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Full text of "Caricature : wit and humor of a nation in picture, song and story"

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find tl 

ds t( 

Illustrated by 

Grant E. Hamilton 


J. Conacher 


U llllllliiilllk. 

W. M. Goodes 

E. Flohri 

'Ip^^ . 

H. M. Wilder 

Art Young 

■ fci 

J no. Cassell 

A. S. Daggy 


im\«wui^ ymiwj^'^^m 

Hy Mayer 

j. M. Flagg 

i/?^i?^» ^iJw^y^^^ai^ 

C. J. Taylor 

T. S. Sullivant 

T. S. AUen 

R. F. Outcault 
Penrhyn StanlaWs 


Bob Addams 
Albert Levering 

F. Nankivel 


Malcolm Strauss 

S. Werner 


F. H. Ladendor 

"Gus" Dirks 

Charles Sarka 

F. L. Fithian 


R. S. Bredin 

"BB" Baker 

Albert Bloch 

J. H. Smith 

\r M%^ 

Bert Levy 

Sydney Adamson 


V. A. Soboda 

Peter Newell 

Fred Lewis 
Gordon Grant 

H. C. Greening Frank Snapp Geo. Herriman 

C. T. Anderson Arthur Lewis Geo. R. Brill 

C. Knowlton 

Poems and Stories by 

Burges Johnson Tom Masson Edwin L. Sabin 

Carolyn Wells 

W. J. Lampton W. D. Nesbit Edward W. Barnard 

Henry Tyrrell 

R. K. Munkittrick Frank H. Brooks Eugene Geary 

and others 





iht, 1908, by Judce Company, 225 FKlh Avenue, New York 


Amphibious Cottage 

By F. P. Pitzcr 

IHEY called it the Amphibious Cottage, I guess, 
because half tlie time it was in the water and 
the other half it was on land. -The proprietor 

' was an old sea-dog ; but the way he chawed 

tobacco made him look more like a sea-cow. The cottage 
stood so close to the sea that the boarders occupying 
front rooms on retiring put on bathing-suTts instead of 
pajamas, because no one knew what minute a wave 
would come up the front stoop and crawl into the rooms. 
Every morning the mosquito nettings were full of fish. 
The pillows were stuffed with cork and the betis were 
built in the form of rafts. There were old-fashioned mot- 
toes hung about the rooms reading, " Paddle your own 
canoe," " We will gather at 
the river," etc. One dark 
night we heard a terrific 
bump against the house. 
Some mistook it for an earth- 
quake on its way home from 
San Francisco ; but upon 
looking out of the parlor- 
window we discovered that 
a ferry-boat from Jersey City 
had run into us. 

There was no shooting 
about the premises, l)Ut 
every Friday the boarders 
used to fish from the roof 
of the cottage. 

One dark night a newly- 
arrived couple held a spoon- 
fest on the front piazza. In 
fact, their yum-yumming was 
so strenuous they actually 
soup-spooned. They did not 
see the tide rising, and as 
they spooned, oblivious of all 
surroundings, the tide riz. 
Soon the water came up 
round them, but they kept 
right on spooning. When 
their feet had been in the 
salt water long enougii to 
be pickled, he said to she, 
" Dost know, Dryid, 'tis get- 
ting dam-damp ?" (No ; the 
man stuttered.) " Yes," said 
she to he; "an' methinkest 
'tis 'goingski to rain — me 
corn aches." But upon 
reaching down for that 
afflicted member she dis- 
covered their predicament. 
She jumped up with a scream 
and a crab dangling froir 

her little toe. Then he jumped up, only to find the 
turn-ups of his trousers full of fish. They both immedi- 
ately got cold feet and retired. 

Amphibious Cottage ! I shall never forget it. 

//i?— "Miss Olkyrl and Mr. Stagit played cards to- 
gether the whole voyage." 
S/ie — "Which won ?" 


ll resulted in a tie." 

I OUD sing the praises of the golden straw 
•^ That slants aloft at forty-five degrees — 
The fr.iil cunnecting link that weds serene 
The rapt soul and the julep lush and cool. 

Mrs. Newlywed — " What did you do with those cigars I bought you last birthday?" 
Mr. Newi.ywkd — " Oh, I'm saving them up for a few of my dearest friends.". 

Mrs. Newlywed — " Till when?' 

Mr. Newlywed— " The first of April." 


A Vegetable Sentiment. 
IT was Memorial day, and an astonishing spirit of sec- 
tional friendliness prevailed.. Flowers had been scat- 
tered indiscriminately over the graves of Federals and 
Confederates, and a regiment wearing both the blue and 
the gray was headed by a 
banner appropriately in- 

Old Uncle Eb had 
brought his mistress's little 
grandson to see the 

"Watch out now, 1 on- 
ey," he said, " when dem 
Yanks and Rabels comes 
along. I dunno zactly why, 
but dey has printed on a 
flag in big letters, ' Pease 
and hominy.' " a. f. m. 

Success Assured. 

Drawing - tea i her — 
" Your son's drawing is 
abominable, sir! His per- 
spective is all wrong, and 
his blending of colors is 
atrocious !" 

Ambitious fnther (de- 
lightedly) — "Good! Then 
I need have no further con- 
cern regarding his success 
as a leading exponent of 
the impressionist school !" 

Smart Little Girl. 

JU OTHER was telling little six-year-old Gertrude a fairy- 
' * tale. 

" Two great princes wished to wed the beautiful prin- 
cess," ran the story. " One of the princes was poor, but 

he had a noble heart. The 
other prince was rich — oh, 
very rich — but he was not 
good. Still, the princess 
could not make up her mind, 
because, you see, the bad 
prince acted very nice to 
the princess. And the prin- 
cess was almost worried to 

death " 

" Well, I think she was 
very silly," broke in little 
Gertrude. "Why didn't 
she marry the rich prince, 
get his money, then divorce 
him and marry the good 
prince ?" 

And little Gertrude's big, 
earnest eyes rested inquir- 
ingly upon mother's face. 

Leaf from a 



' Am 


yo' gwine tcr de masquerade-ball 

Miss Jackson — ' 

ter-night ?" 

Mr. Johnson — " Yes ; Ah's gwine as a ' walkin' delegate.' " 
Miss Jackson — "Wliat am yo' gwiiie ter wear — stripes or 

diamonds ?" 

Ixmnet — 
. nice, 
pawn it 




An irresistible movement of hands on reading the poster. 

Spoiled His Story. 

I( C*IR," says the dignified stranger, walking into the 
•^ office of the chief of pohce of Chicago during con- 
vention week, •' I have a complaint to register against 
your men." 

" What is it ?" politely asks the chief. 

" They are too officious. Before coming here I had 
heard a great deal about the dangers of life in this city, 
but whenever two foot- 
pads* try to hold me up 
an officer steps from the 
shadows and arrests 
them. When a pickpocket 
gets his hands on my 
watch an officer nabs him; 
when a restaurant man 
overcharges me, or a cab- 
man tries to skin me, an 
officer is on the scene and 
readily adjusts matters. 
And so it goes." 

" Well, I certainly can't 
see where you have any 
complaint," said the chief 

" Can't ? Why, how th, 
dickens am I going to put 
any tinge of interest and 
excitement in the story of 
my visit t9 Chicago if this 
thing keeps up ? " 


WHEN Jason sneaked to the Hesi>erides 
And neatly pinched, one night, the Golden Fleece, 
'Twas happily not known to the police, 
Or they would promptly cry. " Our divvy, please !" 
To captains sailing oriental seas 

The pregnant word "backsheesh," was just a peice 
Of native wit, that caused their woes to cease 
And landed were the priceless argosies. 
" How moves the world?" you ask. Well, just the same 
As it revolved a thousand years ago. 

The common people, still raked fore and aft. 
Submit without a murmur to the game. 

'Tis called finesse, diplomacy, we know — 
But in its brazen nakedness 'tis graft. 


A Sure Method. 
,{ I OOK here !" shouted the practical politician, bursting 

^ into the headquarters ot the boss. " We must have 
that new district-attorney kicked right out." 

" What has he been doing ?" inquired the man of ex- 
perience suavely. 

•• ffe's been doing everything and everybody. Why. 
he has even been enforcing the laws." 

"That's pretty bad," said the boss. "What do you 
propose to do about it ?" 

"Do!" exclaimed the irate worker. "I propose to. 
have charges made against him and have him broke." , 

" My son," said the boss, " you are only a beg-.nner. By 
doino- that you'd only place him in a position to liave him- 
self vindicated, and he would be a constant menace to us," 

" But something has got to be done." 

"Quite true, and I'm going to (.[o it." 

" Going to have him sandbagged ?" 

"Worse and worse! I'm going to have liim nomi- 
nated ibr a judgeship, or even for governor." 

" What's that ?" 

" I guess you he.nrd me right. I'm going to promote 
him, for that's the Liiest thing in practical politics. We 
who have experience find it much easier to push a man 
off the roof than to kick him 
out of the basement door, and 
it settles him much more effect- 

What little Willie Fly would like to do if he was a king 


■'ANCE there was a would-be joUe-writer who gave birth 
^"^ to a lunny story. It was known to be funny because 
the man who wrote it, and who, therefore, knew it most 

■ intimately, said it was funny. 

He had heard that it was hard to market literary ma- 
terial by mail. 

So, as a friend of his was going next week to New 
York, the w-riter of the funny yarn said to this friend, 

" As you are goirg to New York next week will you 
not please take my funny story and market it ? I would 
gladly do as much for you sometime." 

As the friend was in the butcher business this was a 
■good, safe promise for the writer to make. 

The butcher-man was anxious not to offend tlie writer, 
as the latter owed him money. 

(The butcher's name was Meredith, and the writer had 
been owin' Meredith for a long time, which was what 
made him think he could write.) 

So the friend took the jest and put it in the inside 
fright-hand pocket of his coat and went. 

First to one office and then to another went the man 
with the funny tale, and everywhere he went the result 

■ was the same. 

Each editor looked at the manuscript a short while and 
'■returned it with thanks that did not seem sincere. 

At last, when the friend's pedometer showed that he 

■ had tramped twenty-three miles, he took the funny story 
from his pocket, tore it into several thousand bits and 

; threw it into an open coal-hole, remarking as he did so, 
"There is such a thing as carrying a joke too far." 


Mr. Wright's Fwright. 

THERE once lived a man named Wright, 
* Who came home very late one dark wnight. 
" You can pull your old freight," 
Said his wife at the geight. 

He forgot what to say in his hvright. 

Had the Papers. 

A FEW bold spirits determined to prevent the new 
lady agitator from Kansas from speaking. 

" ^Vhere is your lecture license ?" they demanded. 

With a glance of withering scorn, mingled with tri- 
umph, she opened her grip, extracted therefrom a paper, 
and waved it in their faces. 

" Here it is !" she shouted vindictively. 

It was her marriage certificate. Even then there was 

■ one man on the committee of protesters who could not 
•understand w-hy his associates acknowledged their defeat 

so readily. He was single. 

Another Odd Thing. 

(( A ND there is another strange thing I have observed," 
remarked the aged philosopher, stroking his long 
white beard. 

" There is ?" asked the interested listener. " What is 
•it ?'• 

" That the coming man is always one who has got 

An Art Critic. 

(( lifHAT ! call that picture art ?" he sneered. 

'' " Those greens give me the blues. 
I know what's good, and, by this beard ! 

What I dislike 1 chews." 

Then sections of that poster rolled 

With gusto down his throat, 
This Ruskin of the summer wold — 

His majesty the goat. 


A Reversal of Fortune. 

IN the vicinity of Los Angeles, before that city was pro- 
vided with a complete drainage system as at present, 
lived and thiove a man of large wealth derived from the 
sale of vegetables raised on land fertilized with the sewage 
of the city. The dissemination of that sort of provender 
In the town was the occasion of much discussion privately 
and in the newspapers. Several crusades were started 
and vigorously maintained against the use of sewage- 
raised vegetables. 

When this excitement was at its height and the city 
council had the matter up for a wrangle at almost every 
session, a newspaper wag remarked, 

" Well, it might be a good deal more practical to be 
suing the old man for damages a while instead of contin- 
uously damning him for sewage." stricki.and w. gilulan. 

Can It Be? 

THE two Russian belles are discussing their mutual 

" And there is Rosiekoff Dimitriskewatchiskebooliske- 
vitch," says the first girl. " I think she is such a sweet 
thing ! Anil don't you think her name is beautiful ?" 

" Oh, yes," concedes the second. " But I have heard 
— now don't you whisper this to a soul — I have heard that 
her name isn't all her own." 

" Mercy 1 What do you mean ? ' 

" It is hinted that she wears an artificial skevitch." 

Kind fates preserve us ! If the ladies in other parts ot 
the world begin amplifying their names as they do their 
hair, we never shall know whether a lady is really pos- 
sessed of the aristocratic cognomen engraved upon her 
cards, or is simply a plain Smith, Jones, or Brown. 

Should Be Equalized. 

DECKONING the w-aiter, the guest says, " 1 see on the 
menu that this house charges extra for one order 
served to two guests." 

'■ Yes, sir," answers the deferential waiter. 

" Well, do you make any reduction for two orders 
served to one guest ?" 

" No, sir." 

" Then I shall proceed to inform the manager of this 
gross injustice. It seems to me that the rule ought to 
work both ways." 

The Man, the Mule and the Maul. 

yy M.^\N hit a mule with a maul 

'• While stealing in stealth past his stall. 

The mule put his heels 

Where the man put his meals 
And the bells are now pealing his p'all. 


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/ \^ 

MoSE Jackson {injai/)^" Ef I on'y had fifty dollars I could git 
Friend—" Huh ! Ef yo' had fifty dollars yo'r lawyer would git it 

Played Football with Him. 

Geraldine — •• You are a baseball player, are you not ?" 
Gerald — " Yes ; and I wish you'd mention it to your 

Geraldine — " What for ?" 

Gerald—-' He took me for a football player last night." 

out on bail." 

A Mournful Finish. 

THERE was e.xcitement in the hen-house. 
* The turkey on the top roost gobbled him- 
self hoarse with frenzy, and ever)' other hen 
in the establishment cackled like a punctured 

"Young Fatten Fluffy was monkeying 
around in the yard," exclaimed the messen- 
ger who had just arrived, " and met the boss 
with a large hatchet." 

" And how did he behave himself ?" asked 
the flurried chorus. 

•' Oh," said tlie messenger, " he lost his 
head completely." 

Small Choice. 

p.ATHER had carved the turkey and had 
given the drumsticks to two of the chil- 
dren, the thighs to two more, the wings to his 
old-maid sisters, the white meat to mother and 
some of the other guests, the back to Uncle 
Bill, who took what he could get and mur- 
mured not, like a true philosopher ; then 
father looked at the platter and mused, " The 
situation grows desperate." He turned the 
remnants over and over and went on, " It 
seems to be neck or nothing with me." 

Where His Mind Was. 

Professor Know ill — " William, please gi»'e me a sen- 
tence showing the diff^erence in meaning between suffi- 
cient and enough." 

Williatn — •' To-morrow I'll have sufficient turkey, but 
I won't have enough." 


Medium— "Madam, I can't seem to get your husband— he won't come at my bidding.^^' 
\VlDOW— "The wretch ! He's probably off flirting with some hussy of a lady-ghost." 




Mrs. Casey — " An' phat did th' docthor say ailed ye?" 
Mr. Casey — '-Appendicitis." 
Mrs. Casey — "Och, worra ! Oi knew he'd say thot if ye wore thot new Sunday suit.' 

Out of Business. 

Cobwigger — "I hear 
the storm blew your tent 
down ?" 

Circus fakir — " Worse 
than that. The rain gave 
the sword - swallower a 
sore throat and washed 
alH the designs off the tat- 
tooed man." 

He Knew. 

Teacher (to class in 
geography) — "And who 
knows what the people 
who live in Turkey are 
called ?" 

Class (ur-ininiously) — 

Teacher — " Right. 
Now, wi.Li can tell me 
what those living in Aus- 
tria are called .'" 

Little b y — " Please, 
mum, I know. Ostrich- 
es !" 

Foiled at Last. 

(( I TELL yew what, them bunco men didn't git none 
o' my money this trip," boasted Uncle Silas. 

" They didn't, hey ?" 

" No, siree ! I lost my pocket-book on the way to 
town, an' they wasn't nothin' fer 'em ter git." 

To Get Out of It Cheap. 

Mrs. Newcomb (on being asked to contribute a dollar 
to help make up the deficit in the minister's salary) — 
" Really, I can't afford to give so much money ; but I'll 
buy two chickens, a pound of coffee, a can of condensed 
milk, a bottle of olives, some 
cottage cheese, a spare-rib, and 
some cut flowers for the church 
supper, the proceeds of which, 
you know, are to be turned in.'' 

Not in the Books. 

««li/HAT are the chief prod- 
ucts of South Ameri- 
ca ?" asked the school-teacher. 
" Tommy Taddells, you may 

" Rubber, coffee, ultimatums, 
and insurrections," replied 

Forever Debarred. 

Lassitudinous Lemuel — " Why was Weary refused 
membership in the brotherhood of enervated pilgrims ?' 

Peregrinating Paul — " We discovered that he was 
born in Bath, Maine." 

Art and Nature. 

" \i/HAT a queer pattern !" says the patron ot the 
tailor. " It looks like one of the maps showing 
the parallels of latitude." 

" Yah," says the tailor. " Id iss a new pattern, made 
especi.iUy for dem bow-legged men's pantses." 



He Is Sorry Now. 

Co Jarvis got his wife by 

advertising V\ 
" Yes; and now he's thinking 
of the exchange column." 

Teacher — "What was 'the restoration.' Bobby?" 
Bobby — " A fake. Pop 's just as bald as before he used it.' 


Miss Strongmynd {zuho has hieti struck for a nickel) — " Well. yo<i 're a fine specimen of a man !" 
Worn Willie — ■■ T'anks. awfullv ; I couldn't so readilv classify )•<"<." 

Fowl Fable. 

THERE was once an humble hen, who hatched out, by 
mistake, a flock of owls. 

Of course, so soon as the owls were big enougli to 
make their debuts they began staying out until all hours 
of the night and mingling in theigiddy whirl of society. 

To this, however, Mamma Hen objected, saying 
that she had not been brought up in such a way, 
and she did not believe that it was proper for her 
children to go gallivanting around. 

At this the owl-chickens conferred among them- 
selves, saying, 

" Poor mamma ! \Vith her antecedents it natu- 
rally is hard for her to know who's whoo." 

Moral — Sometimes it is difficult for the parents to 
enter society. 

Easy Lesson in Politics. 

« pOOD-EVENING, Mr. Buttin," said Gladys, ris- 
ing to greet the caller. " Mr. Honey and I 
were just discussing politics when you arrived. We 
have been arguing about the difference between a 
majority and a plurality." 

" WeU," said Mr. Buttin, with a pitronizing 
glance at Mr. Honey, " it is easily understood. A 
majority is a preponderance of favor between two 
parties, while a plurality is an e.\cess over all." 

" Ah, yes,' sighed Miss Gladys. " It is just 
like the old saying that ' two is company and three 
is a crowd,' isn't it ?" • 

And the meaning look that passed between 
Gladys and Mr. Honey convinced Mr. Buttin that he 
had been counted oiu. 

Reason for His Haste. 

McCloshey — " Phat is yure hoorry, Moike ?" 
McGowan (on the sprinkling-cart) — " Shure, it's 

goin' to rain, Pat, an' it'? me thot wants to git me 

wur-rk done befoor it comes." 


CUDDENLY the bands 
in the great conven- 
tion-hall struck up a ring- 
ing air, which was echoed 
by the bands stationed on 
the streets in the neigh- 
borhood. The great doors 
of the hall were thrown 
open and, preceded by a 
guard of honor and two or 
three bands, and followed 
by another guard of honor 
and four or five bands, a 
small man, trying hard not 
to wear a self-conscious, 
look, was escorted to the 
rostrum. After the cheer- 
ing had subsided the chair- 
man rose and said, 

"Ladies and gentle- 
men, it is unnecessary for 
me to say that we are about to have the pleasure of listen- 
ing to a few remarks from the Honorable Gabe Izzent of 
Hackasack, Florida, the only man in the United States 
who has never had a vice-presidential boom." 

'Mono those inclined to thanksgiving the editor highly ranks ; 
He thanks when he is receiving and always declines with thanks. 

Edith — ■• That is my first male ancestor." 
Percv — •■ Ah^ takett in masquerade costume, I see."' 

- s 

X — 

S = C 

--: '£ 

- 3 

First sailor — 
Second sailor- 

' So you lost your wife last month ? Wasn't it a terrible blow ?" 
-■• It wur a regular tornado. She cleaned out everything in the house before she eloped." 

The Mystery. 

(( UlERE," said the man with ihe paper, " is an account 
of a Reuben who came to town and lost two thou- 
sand dollars to bunco sharks. Isn't it remarkable ?" 

" Not at all," replied the other man. " The remark, 
able part of it is that fellows of that sort ever get the two 
thousand dollars to lose." 

Coming to This. 

THE baseball game being over, the manager gave a sig- 
nal, and large cages, similar to those used in a circus, 
were wheeled into the field. 

Into them, with much cursing and shoving, the play- 
ers were driven. 

After announcing that for a 
small additional entrance fee the 
audience might see the players fed 
and hear the umpire sing his death- 
song, the manager smiled, 

'■ There hasn't been any con- 
tract-jumping since I thought of 
this scheme." 


S.\FE in the editorial desk 
She saw her love-pome laid. 
But still, with hand upon the knob, 

Slie lingered and delayed. 
Upon her face the editor 

A question then could see. 
And answer made. " For pomes like this 
We always P. O. P." 

The damsel, starting, stared and blushed, 

Then hung her pretty head ; 
" Really this is so sudden, sir," 

In faltering voice she said. 
The editor, precipitate. 

Burst out in explanation, 
'•I mean, of course — that is — you know — 

We Pay On Publication !" 


Changed His Tune. 

li I KNEW a feller once," said the nail-keg philosopher, 
" who often said he would not take a million dollars 
for his wife. She run off with a fruit-tree agent, and he 
offered a reward often dollars for her." 

li/ITH a self-satisfied smile the miser reads the book oi 
maxims. He finds nothing therein which he cannot 
improve until he reaches this, " Time is money." 

Then, with much haste, he rushes to the dining-room 
and to the parlor and to the hall, and all over the house, 
and stops every clock he can find. 

Mr. Justwed — '• When I die, love, I want to be cremated." 

Mrs. JiSTWED — " That is a good idea, John. Tlie gold in your teeth ought to pay 
all the expenses." 



OME, listen to a fairy tale 
Which I will tell to you ; 
You'll find the story isn't stale — 

111 fact, it's very new ! 
It's all about a lady fair 
Who had a broken heart, 
And — that's enough ot poetry, 
At all events, to start. 


Now, once upon a time there was a lovely maiden, so 
lovely that her beauty was wont to shatter every mirror 
into which she looked. She never had her photograph 
taken, because photography hadn't been invented in those 
days. You must picture her, therefore, to yourself. She 
loved and lost. The course of frue love didn't run smooth 
even then. The man she lost wasn't to blame, for he 
didn't know she was looking for him. She only saw his 
profile once, but that was enough. She loved that profile. 
It was so Napoleonic ; that is, ante-Napoleonic, and — but 
an inspiration ! 


She fell in love, this lovely miss. 

With a man she didn't know. 
As he was not aware of this, 

It didn't affect him — no ! 
He went away to foreign lands, 

Maybe to Timbuctoo, 
Or else to Afric's sunny sands. 

Or, p'r'ap^, Hon-o-lu-lu ! 


Well, he went away and her heart broke. At all 
events, her heart throbbed so rapidly, when he had gone, 
that she imagined, like all self-respecting maidens of that 
period, it was broken. Then she had an idea. Sne 
would go to a desert island, taking another broken- 
hearted maiden with her as chaperon. There they 
would mend their hearts, and their ways. No more men 
for them ! They might certainly meet monkeys, which 
even in those days were exceedingly like men, but mon- 
keys hadn't been Darwinized yet. The two maidens 
started off — it doesn't matter how — and reached the desert 
island — it doesn't matter where. When they arrived they 
lived on — it doesn't matter what ; but they grew so desper- 
ately miserable that the situation became ludicrous. 
You'll notice this almost immediately. Meantime 


They were quite happy just at first, 

But it grew somewhat slow. 
Though neither of them ever durst 

Acknowledge it was so I 
Yet to the situation then 

One maiden straightway rose, 
But what she did, and how and when. 

Is belter told in prose ! 

As there 


She made up her mind that, broken-heaited or not,'. 
she was going to love somebody or something, 
wasn't a man around, she de- 
termined to fall in love with a 
spring. A young man's f.mcy, 
she knew, had something to do 
with spring. Yes, she fell deep- 
ly in love with a poor, harmless 
spring of water. The spring 
didn't know the maid was in 
love with it any more than the 
man had known. Still, it was 
tliere, and the man wasn't ! It 
was visible and tangible. She 
could drink it, anyway. If it had 
been a human being she would 
probably have wanted to eat it. 
How she did love that spring ! 
She bathed her hands 
in it, sprinkled it all 
over her, and even took 
a cold bath in it every 
morning, when the \: 

weather was warm enough. Her broken-hearted sister^ 
by the way, fell in love with a tree. But she's an item,, 
and that's another story. Well, one day — but this is bet- ■ 
ter warbled ! 

IT IS su::g : 

Upon the sands a ship got stuck. 

And every person lost 
Save one young man, who by great luck 

Was on the island tossed ! 
He did not see the maidens fair ' 

For quite a week or more,. ' '-, . 

In prose I'll tell you when and where; 

Just as I did before ! ( 


He happened to be walking along one day — it was 
Friday — when he heard a voice. He had already seen a 
footprint, but it was so big that he gave ir no thought. 
Had there been a Chicago in those days he might well 
have passed it over. He heard a voice. That voice 
was beautiful, so he listened. There were words of love 
in it. .'\ddressed to whom? W'hy, to him, of course ! 
He listened again. The words were so rapturous and 


complimentary that 
he almost involun- 
tarily ejaculated, 
" Why was I born 
so beautiful ?" Then 
the voice ceased. 
He peeped around 
the corner. The 
lady was bathing 
her h ands in the 
■ ^ ' ■ spring. "He drew 

nearer and nearer. She saw him — saw him — gave one 
cr>', and fell into his arms. It was not the first time a 
lady had fallen into his arms. He knew what to tlo. He 
put her under the spring. That revived her. And — but 
this is too rapturous for prose. 


'• Thou art my love, my love !" said she. 
He mildly acquiesced. 
It seemed to him this course would be 
Presumably the best. 
** Thou art my fountain come to life, ^ 
A fairy set thee free ! 
Whoe'er thou art, I am thy wife ! 
T love, 1 love but thee !" 


This rather startled the prince. He was a prince, of 
course. The hero always is in fairy-tales. He soothed 
the voung maiden and asked her to tell him quietly and 
confidentially what the trouble really was. Then she 
confessed all. She had seen him — at least his profile — 

and had loved hiitl— that is, the profile. He had gone 
away before she had a chance to tell her love. Then she 
had come to the island and fallen in love with the spring, 
which she had personified as him. Did he mind ? Not a 
bit ! It didn't matter. He was quite willing. She was 
beautiful. She had said that he was beautiful — that is, the 
spring, which was his personification, and — well, that 
closed the incident. But, horribile dictu ! 


A rush, a roar, and a rock crashed down 

On the prince and the maiden fair ! 
It hit him exactly on his crown 

And her on the top of her hair ! 
'Twas the jealous spring — or, maybe so, 

Or, p'raps, 'twas an accident, 
Though we shall none of us really know 

Tlie irulh of this sad event ! 


No ! no one ever knew. At all events, the prince and 
the maiden fair perished, and, doubtless, lived happily 
ever afterward in some fairjdand, where there were no 
divorces. What became of the other maiden history' de- 
poneth not. She was, however, merely an item. Proba- 
bly she married the tree, and is now a weeping widow — 
that is, willow ! And now for the last time 


Now tales like this a moral impart. 

No matter if sung or said, 
And this one shows the vulnerable part 

Is not the heart, but the head. 

The Origin of Pumpkin Pie 

/^NCE upon a time — a long while ago, children — there 
lived a wise old man who was always trying to see 
what he could discover. 

Having made several perpetual-motion machines and 
one or two air-ships, he was walking through the fields to 
avoid his creditors, when he came upon a pumpkin. 

"This," he said to himself, bending liown and feeling 
of the yellow orb, " is a vegetable growtli ; but I firmly 
believe that it acquires its hue from small particles of 
gold which it extracts from the earth." 

So he put the pumpkin on his shoulder and took it 
home, telling all anxious inquirers that he was going to 
discover how to extract the gold from it. 

At home, in spiie of all his wife said, he cut the pump- 
kin up and put it in a pot and boiled it — only he argued 
that he was melting it. 

When at last it was a pulpv mass, he poured it out of 
the pot and right on top of a pan of dough that his wife 
had rolled out for the purpose of making a dried-apple 

Now you know the kind ot a wife he had, do you not ? 
A woman who will feed her husband on dried-apple pie 
deserves to be married to two or three inventors, doesn't 
she ? 

And so, he put the pumpkin pie and the dough into the 
oven, asserting that he would harden it with the heat and 
product" a solid sheet of gold, and be so rich that he could 
run for office on a relorm ticket. 

But, bless you ! when the pumpkin and the dough 
came out of the oven it was not a solid sheet of gold at 
all, but a rich, golden, tantalizing section of goodness. 

And the poor inventor was hungry, so he bit into it. 

A few moments later several of his creditors broke 
into the house and came upon him, crying, •' Look here ! 
Where is all that gold you were going to get lor us ?" 

And he never even looked up at them, but kept right 
on eating, saying, " Who cares f'r gold ? (Bite, bite. 
O-o-o-oh !) Who cares f r gold ? Men, I have discovered 
pumpkin pie !" 

And the creditors sat down also and ate, and they, 
too, were happy ever after. 

So now, when you eat pumpkin pie you should be glad 
that thf poor inventor did not succeed in making gold ot 
the pumpkin. For if he had, the pumpkin might never 
have gone further than to fill vour teeth. 

** MAMM.A., is it the Fourth of July in heaven ?" asked 
■ 1'' little Johnny, as he watched a shower of falling 



The Great American Novel. 

Young author — " Ah ! I'm 
glad to find you in. Are you 
busy to-day ?" 

Publisher — "I'm never busy, 
sir. It's .Hgainst my principles." 

Young author — "That is good. 
I came to tallc with you about the 
' great American novel.' " 

Publisher — " Aha ! I suppose 
you have written it ?" 

Young author — " I flatter my- 
self that I have." 

Publisher — "I see. Now, 
young man, to get at the bottom 
of this thing in a hurry, I want to 
ask you a few questions." 

Young author — " Deligiited, I 
assure you." 

Publisher — " How many char- 
acters have you introduced in 
your siory ?" 

Young author — " The usual 
number — about a dozen, I should 

Publisher — " Bad at the start. 
You've got to have at least five 
hundred. How many nationalities 
are represented ? ' 

YouMo author — " Oh, it's pure- 
ly American, don't you know. 
My characters are all American 

Publisher — " Bad again. You- 
've got to have at least fifty differ- 
ent nationalities. Have you sent any of your characters 
across the pond by wireless ?" 

Young author — " But, sir, I don't write impossible, 
improbable stuff. My book is high-class fiction, after the 
style of Hawthorne and Goldsmith and " 

Publisher — "Wait! Have you depicted lynchings, 
head-on collisions, political intrigues, society scandals, 
mobs, riots, strikes, e.\plosions, absconders, homicides, 
infanticides, suicides, poisoners, automobile criminals, 
bridge-jumping, prize-fighting, steamboat and theatrical 
calamities, etc., etc.?" 

Young author — " No, sir ; I " 

Publisher — •' Enough, young man ! You might do to 
edit a fancy-work page in some Old Girls' Home "Jour- 
nal, but as the writer of the coming ' great American 
novel' you are on the wrong train." joe o ie. 



First beetle — " 

Second beetle— 

ing to find wliich one. 

A Liberal View. 


LI.VVE you seen much of Miss Dumonde ? 

What's the matter?" 
" Oh, Mr. Centipede has broken a leg and the doctors are try- 

An Unwritten History. • 

THE humorist was sitting in his office, dull and discour- 
aged, chewing the end of his pen and spitting in the 
direction of the advertising-man's cuspidor. Not a single 
joke for to-morrow's paper could he get. Inspiration had 
fled and burned the bridges behind her. But the darkest 
hour is just — while your chickens are being stolen. 

Just then a creamy, melting, chorus-girl smile diffused 
itself over his face. Taking his feet from the table and 
slapping his legs, he exclaimed, " Oh, I have it ! I will 
write something and call it a weather-prophet joke." And 
it was copied in all the papers, and drummers told it in 
all the hotel-lobbies. 

A Theory. 

She — " The man came to look at the roof to-day, but he 
didn't do any work — ^just looked at it and went away." 

He — " Maybe he's going to mend the leak by Chris- 
tian-science treatment." 

She's apt to be reserved, they say, 
And seldom lets one get beyond 

The commonplace of every day." 

" Oh, yes, indeed ! I saw so much 
That really I was stricken mute, 

Although I only met her once 

But — she was in her bathing-suit !" 

(I IF he wasn't in the wreck why is he suing the railway 
company for damages ?" 
" His wife was on the train, bound for South Dakota to 
get a divorce, and the nervous shock, together with an 
impairment of her complexion, caused her to drop the 


Hi Hunks's Happiness. 

ALI HOUGH the old pertater-bug 
•■ Around the furrers hops. 
The cider that will brim the jug 

Into my dream just pops ; 
So I don't worry much about 

Pertaters. don't you see ? 
When I hev cider 1 kin shout 

An' very thankful be. 
The pigs are gettin' good an' fat, 

An' so 's the hens an' lambs ; 
An' soon the beams, I'll bet my hat, 

Will bendin' be with hams. 
So I will very thankful be. 

Though the pertaters fail, 
For lots of turkeys now I see 

A-settin' on the rail. 
Among the corn-stalk's russet ranks 

I hear the w^ild dove coo. 
An' am so blame chock full of thanks 

I don't know what to do. 
An' when I see the pumpkin bob 

Amid the weeds, breeze-fanned. 
For joy I fill my old " corn-cob " 

An' smoke to beat the band. 


No Wonder. 

CMITHERS says he lights one cigar from 

another now, he smokes so much." 
" I don't wonder, considering the kind of 
cigars that Smithers smokes." 
" Why ?" 
" Matches must cost more." 


No Doubt. 

genius has been defined as an 

you know 

intense capacity for hard work, 
it would be 

" Yes. I suppose it would be much more 
satisfactory if it were a labor-saving device." 

Cinderella's After-thought. 

/^INDERELLA had just finished the slipper- 

An Old Salt's Observations. 

CAME, as far as I can figger out, is bein' popular with a 
lot of strangers that wouldn't like you if they knew 

Th' records of our good times are written with a pencil 
on a slate. Th' records of our sorrows are engraved upon 
a monument with chisels. 

We spend about two-thirds our lives in sayin' that we 
dasn't do things, an' th' other third in bein' sorry that we 
hadn't been afraid to do th' things we dast. 

It must be mighty nice to be a king an' run a country ; 
but I reckon that it ain't a marker on what 'twould be to 
be a queen. She runs the king, you know. 

Th' nearest to th' ideal kick that I 
ever heard a man come was when Bill 
Jones burst out with th' statement, " Gosh 
hang it ! it's bad enough to be poor, with- 
out havin' to work, too." He was an aw- 
ful lazy man. Bill was. 

Life is full of mix-ups, Th' first v'y- 
age I made to sea th' fo'c's'le grub was 
so plum bad that the hungry sailors 
couldn't eat it, while in th' cabin, where 
th' food was fine, there wasn't a passen- 
ger that wasn't seasick an' without an 

I never git mad when I read about an 
American girl a-marryin' of an English- 
man to git his title. All I have to do to 
•calm me do\\n is to look around these 
TJnited States an' see what she might 
have took at home an' not even got a 

A millionaire was on my ship, an' 
■ every chap aboard was lookin' at him en- 
n-ious like an' sayin' that he wished that 
Ihe was him. Next day a block fell an' 
cracked him on th' head. They quit their 
wishin' then. It's only good luck that we 
envy. edward m.'vrshall. 

fitting episode. 
" Dear me !" she remarked as her lover was 
dusting off his knees, "I do hope he is a real 
prince and not a shoe-clerk in disguise." 
Only the assurances of the fairy godmother that every- 
thing was as represented made the young woman keep 
the engagement intact. 

Careful Elizabeth. 

ELIZABETH "s a model child, 
*" Who cleans and sews and bakes. 
Her manner is both sweet and mild ; 
In work much joy she takes. 

" To-day," said she, " I must prepare 
My work-basket, I s'pose. 
And to the flower-garden fare 
To darn the garden-hose." 



Mrs F.\rmlv— '• Well, how did yew find our son Reuben at college ; was he 
at the top of the heap in language?" 

Mr. Farmly— " No, b' gosh ! he was at the bottom o" the heap in a scrimmage. 
His language, Mariar, 1 won't repeat." 


The Principle of the Julep. 

jU AJOR, " asks the northern visitor of Major Shotenfust 
of Clay Corners, Kentucky, " what is the theory of 
the mint julep ? I have heard that it is a pleasant drink, 
but what is the reason for its different ingredients ?" 

" Well, suh, it's simple as shootin' a man across the 
valley. Yo' see, fust yo' have to use watah as a basis ; 
then yo' out in some sugah to hide the fluidity o' the 
watah ; then yo' put in the mint in ordah to mollify the 
unpleasant taste o' the sugah an' watah ; an' lastly, yo' 
covah it with whiskey, so that the fiavoh of the othah 
ingredients may be propehly disguised." 

' A Shining Success. 

Dr. Pellet — " What became of Puffer ? He failed in 
law, medicine and teaching." 

Judge Codex — " Why, he started The Hustler maga- 
zine and wrote articles on ' Why men fail,' and made a 
big thing of it. You see, he was well qualified." 

Had To Qualify. 

4 4 IJOW is the daughter of Mr. Muchstuff getting along ?' 
asked the principal of the summer school. 

" Not very well," answered the assistant. " I am afraid 
she will not make sufficient progress for us to give her a 
diploma entitling her to enter the woman's college she 
wishes to attend." 

" Oh, but she has to," asserted the principal. 

" But she won't pass muster." 

" But we must pass her," said the principal with a wan 


Reporter — " I meant my article to be pathetic, sir." 
Editor — " Pathetic .' You don't know the rudiments 

of pathos, sir ! Here you have written ' baby ' " 

Reporter — " What should I have written, sir ?" 
Editor — •• ' Babe ' — always ■ babe' — when writing 



First kid — " How dirty your face is ! " 

Second kid — -'Yes. Me mudder jes' slapped me." 

The Happy Drum-major. 

HEN I the street along, 
As stiff as starch, 
Unto the wild ding-dong 
Most proudly march. 

I know the reason why 

The ladies smile 
And heave a wistful sigh 

At all my style. 

I am a very great 

And pompous thing. 

The while with vim elate 
I swash and swing — 

The haughty drum-ma-jor. 

Who is the bird 
That swells and leaps before 

The Twentv-third. 

A Bright Night. 
IVTOW, whenn e ye severalle knyghtes of ye rounde-table 
were gathered together, as was theyre customme, to 
cracke merne jokes and sing jollie songes, there was one 
of them, whose name was Sir Burbonne, and he didde 
lalke with an amazinge wittienesse. 

Nor coUle anie one saye aniethynge but whatte he 
wolde come ryghte back atte hymme wyth a replye ye 
whych was even funnyer than whatte had been sayde. 

Soe thatte all ye table didde laugh heartilie. 

Exceple thatte there were one or two who didde seeme 
to have a grouche. And whenne some one sayde unto these 
one or two, 

•• Is notte Sir Burbonne brylliante — is he notte a bryghte 
knyghte ?" 

They made replye, surlilie, 

" Of a truth, he sholde be a bryghte knyghte, seeing 
thatte he is fulle of moonshyne." 

Feminine Timidity. 

/^LD Betsey Nabors was one of the rudely picturesque 
" characters of a large rural district in the mountains 
of Virginia. She was a great, muscular woman, her mas- 
culine appearance being emphasized by heavy boots and 
an immense bundle, since the gentle nomad carried her 
home on her back. 

" I should think, Betsey," said one of the farm- 
" that you'd be scared to death out in the 
woods all night." 

"No, I ain't skeered o' nuthin' — exceptin 
sometimes," she added with a shamefaced air, 
" I do be a bit shy of a b'ar." 


A Musical Effort. 

WH.-VT," we ask of the member of the 
orchestra ; " what instrument do you 
find the most difficult to play ? " 
" The slap-stick. " 

" But we did not know that was an or- 
chestral instrument." 

" It is used in one selection only. There 
is a very difficult slap-stick obligato in Mike- 
towski's' Mosquito Sonata in New Jersey.'" 

The Kindly Cannibal. 

" |\J|V DEAR," said the kmdly cannibal to his wife, " I 
wish you wouUl realize that my business affairs 
are not within your scope. I don't like this habit of yours 
of always putting your finger in my pie." 

" I want you to understand," retorted the wife, " that 
I am going to exercise every right I have. As your 
wife " 

•• And I want you to understand," interrupted the can- 
nibal husband with some heat, " that if you keep on put- 
ting your finger in the pie the first thing you know all the 
rest ot you will go into a pot-pie." 

Silenced, the woman returned to her household duties. 

Dead Easy for Him. 

(( A^'D you found not the slightest discomfort in your 
perilous voyage ?" we asked the man who had re- 
cently gone through the whirlpool rapids in a barrel. 

" Me ?" he chuckled. " Not on your period of years ! 
Evidently you are not aware that I am a regular patron 
of the Manhattan ' L ' roads." 

The Same Feeling. 

Her grandmother (reminiscently) — " Yes, Dorothy ; I 
remember how happy I was when some one told me your 
grandfather's name was one of the best in Burke's 

Dorothy— ''(yn^l 
suppose you felt just 
as I did when I found 
Charlie's name 
was in Brad- 


Miss Johnson 
yo' know." 

Mr. Jackson — "Suttinly not 

But marriage is not all bread an' beer an' kisses. 

I expec's ter git de poker occasionally." 


A Short Study of Short Jokes 

By Walter Eugene Traughbcr 

ON'T you know," said the joke ex- 
pert, when the conversation had 
turned to humor, " that I am in- 
clined to agree with Solomon m 
his assertion that there is nothing 
new under the sun. I also am 
almost a convert to the declara- 
tion of Mark Twain to the effect 
that there are only seven jokes in 
the world and that all the others 
are simply offshoots. 

•' For the past quarter of a 
century- I ha\e been a student of 
short jokes. I do not claim, ot 
course, that I have reaa every 
short joke ever published, but I 
do claim that I have read every 
one that has enjoyed any consid- 
erable circulation ; and not only 
that, but I remember the point ot 

erery joke I have ever heard or 

read, and when I see an old witticism in a new garb I 
recognize it at once, and, without the least hesitancy, fall 
upon its neck, figuraiively speaking, and effusively greet 
it as a valued friend of former days. 

" The fact is that the perusal of the joke columns of 
the humorous papers of to-day reminds me of the econom- 
ical mother, who was asked if the clothing of her three 
little boys was not an expensive undertaking. ' No," she 
replied ; ' you see, I cut Willie's clothes down for Johnny, 
Johnny's down for Robert and Robert's down for Sammy ; 
then, when Sammy wears his suit out I use the material 
for patches for the older boys.' 

•' That's tne way the short joke has been handled for 
the past quarter of a century or more. I do not believe 
that within that period a single good idea has been 
■evolved into a short joke that has not been used over and 
•over and over again in a slightly modified lorm. 

"Jokes, of course, are divided into many classes, two 
of which — the joke told ' on ' the prominent man and the 
joke told • by ' the prominent man — are the most popular 
among jokesmiths. Under the first heading, standing out 
more prominently thaft any of the others, is the railroad- 
magnate joke. 

•' Contemporaneous with the baggage-transfer system 
on railroads, a story was printed to the effect that a 
plainly-dressed man — he is always plainly dressed — no- 
ticed a baggageman at an out-of-the-way station han- 
dling a trunk in a manner well calculated to reduce it 
to frngments. ' Aren't you a little rough with that trunk ?' 
the plainly-dressed man is credited with saying. ' Well, 
■what of it ?' the baggage-smasher retorted. ' You don't 
own this trunk, do you ?' ' No,' responded the plainly- 
ilressed man ; • hut I own this railroad.' 

•■ Now, if there is a railroad magnate in the country 

to-day who hasn't been made the hero of this joke, he 
will leam something to his advantage if he will so advise 
me, backing up his statement with an affidavit. So far as 
I am informed at present, Jim Hill, of the Great Northern, 
is the most recent magnate to have this bit of humor 
attributed to him, the scene being laid at a small station 
in western .Nioniana, and the time within the past six 

" But, coming to the joke told • by the prominent man, 
here is a fair sample : A member of the Metropolitan 
Club, of New York, is made to tell a good story on Gen- 
eral Miles. As the story goes, the general was engaged 
in conversation with a number of friends in the billiard- 
room of the Metropolitan, when a man, having a very 
slight acquaintance with General Miles, approached him. 
The man evidently had oeen drinking, for, as he stepped 
beside the general, he slapped him on the back and ex- 
claimed, ' Well, Miles, old man, how are you ?' For an 
instant a frown shadowed the face of the noted army 
officer, but it soon gave way to a quizzical look, as he rf- 
plied to the offender, ' Don't be so formal, old chap ; just 
call me Nelse.' 

"Good story, isn't it? And it may have happened; 
but if General Miles said anything of the kind the retort 
was not original with him. This story was first told 
more than twenty years ago, and John R. MacLean was 
the hero of it. As the story was told at that time, a fresh 
young reporter, who barely knew Mr. MacLean, ad- 
dressed him as • Mack.' • Don't be so formal, young 
man,' was the quick reply; 'just call me Johnnie.' 

" Here's another : Sir Conan Doyle very recently is 
credited with a story to the effect that a young English 
army officer suffered a severe injury and was compelled to 
undergo an operation in which a portion of his brain was 
removed. Later the surgeon who performed the opera- 
tion met the officer and asked W'hether he was aware of 
the fact that a portion of his brain was in a bottle in a 
laboratory. ' Oh, that does not matter now,' replied the 
officer. ■ I've got a permanent position in the war office.' 

" Of course I am not asserting that the creator of Sher- 
lock Holmes did not tell this story, but if he did he bor- 
rowed it, as it was told in this country long before Sir 
Conan achieved reputation enough to admit of a good 
story being attributed to him. In the American version, 
however, the man who was alleged to have lost a portion 
of his brain explained that he did not need it for the 
reason that he had been elected to a state legislature. 
Not so bad, either, if you know much about state legis- 

" Here's another sample : At the inauguration of Flavel 
S. Luther as president of Trinity College, at Hartford, 
Connecticut, the story is told that Dr. Luther, when rid- 
ing on a car, saw a student crouched down in one comer 
in an advanced st=;ge of intoxication. Leaning over. Dr. 
Luther whispered, ■ Been on a drunk.' The blear-eyed 


student looked at the noted educator and replied, in a 
sleepy tone, 'So have I.' 

" This story is more than a quarter of a centur)' old, 
but it is slightly changed. As first narrated, a Catholic 
priest met one of his parishioners wabbling along the 
street under a very heavy load of intoxicants, and, wish- 
ing to rebuke the man mildly, said, ' Drunk again.' 'So 
am I, father,' was the immediate response of the inebriate, 
who, in all probability, was not as drunk as he might 
have been. According to another old version, a priest 
was being shaved, and the barber, an Irishman, being 
under the influence of liquor, cut his customer's face. 
' You see what whiskey does, Pat ?' remarked the priest. 
' Yis, father,' replied the barber ; • it do make the skin 
mighty tender." 

" Another good one is wafted from the other side of 
the Atlantic. Marie Corelli is made to tell the story of a 
Stratford farmer who went to a dentist and asked him 
what his charges were for pulling a tooth. The dentist 
replied that he charged fifty cents without gas, and one 
dollar with gas. ' Weil, we'll just yank her oiit without 
the gas,' was the rejoinder of the farmer. ' You are 
plucky,' the dentist remarked. ' Let me see the tooth, 
please.' ' Oh, it isn't my tooth," said the farmer. • It's 
my wife's tooth ; she will be along in a minute.' 

"Now, that is what I call a crack-a-jack — a hummer — 
but Marie, if she told the story, purloined it from this side 
of the pond. It was first published, and had a big circu- 
lation in this country, sliortly after alleged painless den- 
tistry came into vogue, years and years ago. 

" Here's another along the same line : ' I thought,' cried 
the victim indignantly, ' that you were a painless dentist.' 
' I am,' replied the smiling operator. ' I do not suffer the 
slightest pain.' 

" This joke is as old as the one credited to Miss Corelli. 
As first told, the dentist was advertising to pull teeth 
without pain, and when a customer put forth a protest, 
after frightfully painful experience, the dentist sprung his 
little joke, and the victim is supposed to have seen the 
point and subsided. 

"John Sharp Williams, I notice, is telling a story of a 
negro down South who had shot a dog which he thought 
intended biting him. When asked why he did not use 
the other end of the gun on the dog, the negro asked the 
owner of the dog w-hy the canine didn't come at him with 
the other end. Of course I would not, for a moment, 
accuse the Democratic minority leader of swiping this 
loke from Sam Jones, but I do assert that the reverend 
Sam wore it out twenty years ago during a tour of the 
middle West. The evangelist, however, made a pitch- 
fork, instead of a gun, tlie weapon used. 

" And now to turn to the short joke proper. Here is 
a fair sample : A young lady is asked if her sweetheart 
got down on his knees when he proposed to her. ' No, 
indeed," she replied ; ' he was too polite.' ' How was 
that ?" is asked. 'Too polite to ask me to get up," is the 

■• If the girl in this case is as old as the joke she would 
find infinitely more comfort in a cushioned chair. This 
joke has flourished for more than twenty-five years. The 
onlv change is that the girl, in the original version, gave 

as the reason for the failure of the young man to get 
down on his knees that she was sitting on them. The 
change, however, tloes not make it a new joke. 

" And again, listen to this : ' Papa,' said little Willie, 
who was looking at a picture of Atlas, ' nobody could 
hold the world on their back, could they ?' 

" ' I don't know about tliat,' answered papa ; I have 
heard people talk about Wheeling, West Virginia." 

" Nice little play upon words, you say ; yes, but it was 
worn out by comedians more than fifteen years ago. Ask 
any old-time specialty man and he will tell you that I am 
correct in this statement. 

" Here's another, more than a quarter of a century old, 
which is still hobbling around the country in first-clasS- 
publications : 

" ■ 1 say, old man, does your wife still call you by the 
sweet names she used to :' 

" ' Oh, yes ; that is to say, with some slight variations. 
Instead of honey, for instance, she now uses the kindred 
term, old beeswax.' 

" I must admit that i never before saw this joke in 
print. It was told to me by my mother before I could read. 
As she told it, a larmer said to his hired man, • The old 
woman almost called me honey this morning." 'That so?' 
queried the hired man. ' Yes," replied the farmer ; 'she 
called me old beeswax.' 

•' Here is one from one of the higliest-class publications- 
of the country, that was deemed worthy of illustratiorv 
recently : 

'■ ' What are you doing, Brown ; training for a race ?' 

" ' No ; racing for a train." 

" I do not know whether Murray and Mack, the farce- 
comedy comedians, have discarded this joke or not, but 
they were making a great hit with it five years ago. 

" Listen to this one, published in one of the leading 
papers of the country : 

" ' Say, do you want to get next to a scheme for mak- 
ing money fast ?' 

" ' Sure I do." 

" ' Then glue it to the floor 1' 

"This gem is more tlian twenty-five years old. It had 
its start in a New York paper, the story, as told then^ 
being to the effect that a sharper was advertising to tell 
people how to make money fast, for the sum of ten cents. 
Those who answered the advertisement were advised tO' 
glue their money to the floor. 

" A weekly publication of great reputation recently 
perpetrated the following : 

" • What did he get three hundred dollars back pen- 
sion for ?' 

" • Oh, he was shot in the back." 

•• It is reasonable to suppose that some bright young 
man pulled down at least fifty cents for this gem, but it 
lacks about seventeen years of being new. As originally 
told, a pension lawyer asked a client who was applying 
for a pension if he wanted a back pension. ' Certainly, 
replied the applicant ; ' that is where I was shot.' 

" Here is still another, handed to us within the past 
few months : ' And so poor Daggs is dead. I never got 
a chance to bid him good-bye. The first thing I do when 
I get to heaven will be to. say how sorry I was.' 


" ' But suppose he didn't get to heaven ?' 

" ' Then you can tell him for me.' 

" Exceptionally neat, isn't it ? But it lacks many, 
many years of being new. This witticism was evolved 
during the well-remembered controversy as to whether 
Bacon was the author of Sliakespeare's works. As origi- 
nally told, a woman said to her husband : • When I get 
to heaven I am going to ask Bacon about it.' 'Suppose 
he is in the other place,' the husband rejoined. 'Then 
you can ask him,' was the retort. 

" Then there is the rough railroad story. It was written 
by Opie Read, tor the Arkansas Traveler, when the paper 
was published in Little Rock, but it is sUU going the 
rounds. The story is to the effect that a passenger who 

had been jostled and bumped until he was in great dis- 
tress finally realized that the train was moving along in 
a highly satisfactory manner. He remarked upon the 
change to the conductor, and that individual said, ' Yes ; 
you see we have run off the track.' And yet Andrew 
Carnegie and George F. Baer are crediteil with telling this 
story withm the last few months, each laying the scene in 
a difteient country. 

" And so it goes, year in and year out. It reminds me 
of what Mr. Dooley said to Mr. Hinnissy, after getting off 
an old joke : • 'Tis mine, Hinnissy. Others made it be- 
fore me, but I made it las'. Th' las' man that makes a 
joke owns it. That's why me fri'nd Chancy Depoo is such 
a humorist.' " 

Concerning the Summer Boarder. 

IIR you folks reckonin' on takin' boarders this 
summer, Luke ?" inquired Seth Turniptop of 
Luke Leatherbottom when the two met, the 
other Saturday, at the post-office. 

1 " Hey — boarders did you say ? Humph ! 

Wa-al, I should reckon not ! I d'want none of them city 
folks 'round me ag'in, arter las' summer. If they warn't 
the peskiest lot o' critters I ever did see ! They cum all 
chuck full of highfalutin' notions, but I guess they got 
some of 'em tuk out of 'em 'fore they went back. They 
bothered ma to death, an' made her that narvous — my ' 
They wanted a separate spoon fer the sugar-bowl, b'gosh ! 
Tew high-toned to stick their own spoons in ! Ever hear 
the like of it ? No ; I reckon not ! Then the table-cloth 
had to be^ took off right in the middle of the week — 
turnin' so 's to hev the spots on the under side warn't 
enougn. Ma mus' hustle it off an' lay a bran' clean one. 
An' the napkins ! One spot on a napkin made 'em sick, 
an' that napkin had X.0 go. Sunday cleanin' warn't often 
enough. What else ? Plenty. They wanted me to give 
'em helpin's, 'stead of passin' the platter an' lettin' each 
feller dish his own mess. Wa-al, I kicked on that, /was 
there to eat, not to scrape fer other people. An' I didn't 
put a collar on, neither, week-day meals, tho' one of the 
boarders— a man, b'gosh ! — was that finicky he hinted to 
ma to ask me to. I had somethin' else to do besides 
dressin' an' undressin'. They wouldn't wash in the basin 
where the res' of us did. Sh 'd say not ! They made liia 
lug water clean up stairs, fer their private use, by jinks ! 
An' each room used three or four towels a week ! Poor 
ma 'bout broke her back washin' things. Sundays they 
wanted risin' bell at seven, 'stead of live, tho' how a body 
kin lay a-bed till near noon is more 'n we kin figger. • 
Durned it some of them people didn't try to eat peas with 
a fork ! Shelled peas, mind ye ! An' the fool talk, an' 
the way they thought they knowed everything. But not a 
one could tell which end of a horse or of a cow riz first 
from the ground, gittin' up. Wa-al, they 'bout wore out 
our forks an' feelin's. an' didn't go any tew soon. No 
more city folks fer us — no, sir ! They're more bother 
than they're wuth." edwin l. sabin. 

/^F two evils it is not always possible to choose the least. 
^^ Sometimes they are twins. 

The Late London Fad. 

(The ladies of London who are in swell society have introduced, as a new 
fad, the study oJ Plato. — Exchange papt'r,] 

THE ladies of London are doting on Plato — 
For, they think, without doubt, it's a delicate way to 
Uplift the low state of iheir trivial society, 
And gather a culture of perfect propriety. 

The gems and the jewels they once could expand on 
Are not now an fait, and their use they abandon ; 
To sparkling champagne they no longer give "sippage"; 
And they've given up all ostentatious equipage. 

They take off, in fact, every fashionable feather, 
To revel in things transcendental together. 
No longer they coo, and call somebody "Dearie," 
But cogitate simply, consider and query. 

What though, by their task, they look paler and hectic, 
Sweet joy they get out of their deep dialectic. 
With the hope that rare things, far beyond this cold real, 
May come from their hunt for some lofty ideal. 

The flight of their minds is, in two senses, Attic, 
Tlirough balancing thoughts in the mmner Socratic ; 
One suspects they design with new wisdom to fool men 
By gaining the art of the subtlest of schoolmen. 

Perhaps if the late Matthew Arnold were living 
He would see in this work happy cause for thanksgiving ; 
And say his " All Hail " for the scheme they have started. 
And think the Philistine's coarse creed had departed. 

For, material ends — money, homes, and their progenies — 
They will loathe — and find better the tub of Diogenes ; 
Things worldly and crass they '11 have little to say to 
Since they're dipped in the depths of the magic of Plato. 

Perhaps, though, we err, with a dullness Teutonic — 
These -'dears " may seek only the love termed '-Platonic"; 
And, holding the old ways, one thing to discover. 
May still be the same to friend, husband, or lover ! 


n |l«Y DISCOURSE next sabbath," said the erudite 
preacher, " shall be upon recognition in heaven— 
a subject which I have studied in Greek, in Latin, in 
Hebrew, and" — with a gesture impressively casual — 
'perhaps in several other languages " 


>f>' V 

r ) 









— . 







2 '-« 

I I 



Love and a Motor-car 

By William J. Lampton 

HAD loved Mary Moore tor sixteen 
months and several days, but had 
never distinctly mentioned the 
fact of my adoring passion, simply 
because I was afraid to. Of course 
I had sent up distress signals at 
frequent and persistent intervals, 
but they had been cruelly ignored. 
Not absolute ignorance, perhaps, 
but enough to be culpable. If I 
had been wrecked a court of in- 
quiry could easily have deter- 
mined the responsibility. 

When Mary acquired a motor- 
car I was pleased because, first, it 
indicated a prosperous condition 
of her finances, and, second, it is 
my nature to rejoice m the pros- 
perity of others. I am a born 
altruist. But the machine itself 
dill not please me. I had dodged 
too many of its kind on narrow 
margins to have any feelings of 
that sort. In addition, I had be- 
come habituated to street-car transportation. Tiiere were 
pecuniary reasons for the habit. 

Nor was I overwhelmed with joy when, later, she 
asked me to go out with her in the pesky whizzer. A 
trolley ride would have been more in harmony with my ' 
taste. . But Mary was an auto enthusiast who had small 
regard for those who thought the automobile was an in- 
vention of the devil. It I had not loved her passionately 
I never would have gone. Perhaps she would not have 
asked me. But I loved her passionately. 

Hers was not one of the gigantic gee-whiz whizzers. 
It was only a, snug little affair accommodating two, and 
she was her own chauffeuse. Have you ever observed 
tl\at automobiles are like women — a little one can make 
just an mucli trouble as a big one ? 

We had not been out more than half an hour before I 
was thoroughly embarrassed by my ignorance of motor- 
cars, and tully realized that I was outclassed. What Mary 
knew about her car was only exceeded by what I didn't 
know of any of the breed, and I keenly felt my total inad- 
eqnacv. I tried to get my mind off of it by referring to the 
.scenery and mentioning tlie Ijeauiies of nature, but Mary 
had no thought of anything on earth except her car. 

We were speeding along a country road at such a rate 
that I could not distinguish a cat from a cow in a pasture, 
and was not trying to, being too busy holding myself 
down on the seat. Mary was exasperatingly composed. 
1 was wontlering when we would loop the loop. 

" Isn't this just too lovely for anything ?"she fairly rev- 
eled at me. 

" For one of my, less exa'^gerated capacity I should say 
it wns quite too,' I managed to reply with some degree of 

sarcasm, and at the same time grab for my hat, which 
was loosening from its foundations. 

'■ You will simply dote on it when you get used to it," 
she laughed in such si'.very tones that I hated the white 
metal from Bryan to tlie Bronx. 

" I hope you are perfectly lamiliar with the manage- 
ment of the brute," I said as we struck a bump in the road 
and I almost lost my anchorage. 

"Have no fear, Harry, dear," she reassured me — 
thank heaven she hadn't heard me call it a brute ! — ■■ this 
is not my first trip." 

For the moment I forgot my auto-nervousness in a 
cold fear that meant more to my impassioned soul than 
the entire output of all the automobile factories in the 

" With other men ?" I asked in jealous, tremulous 

She laughed almost as one who gives his victim the 
horrid ha, lia, and watched me as if I were a mouse. But 
I was no mouse. I was a gieen-eyed monster. 

" One other, only," she said, cruelly deliberate and 
painlully exact. 

I choked down whatever it was rising in my throat. 

" Who was it ?" I demanded, taking a firmer grip on 
something or other that felt solid. It was a crucial mo- 

" The man who taught me how to handle the car," she 
laughed again, and I relapsed and echoed the laugh 
hysterically. The crisis had passed. She was very kind 
not to play football with my throbbing heart, as she might 
have done. I should have thanked her tor that, but the 
reaction drove the smaller amenities from my mind, and 

The car began spluttering, wheezed a time or two, 
staggered and stopped on the highway. 

" What is it ?" I asked spasmodically, returning to 
earth as she quickly jumped out to investigate. 

" Oh, nothing much," she answered carelessly, reach- 
ing under the wagon-bed alter something or otiier that 
had gone wrong. 

"Can I be of any service ?" 1 inquired, preparing to 
join her. 

" What do you know about the mechanism of a motor ?" 
she responded in a tone which indicated that the question 
was less an inquiry for information than it was a veiled 
allusion to the fact that there was no information to be 

I instinctively realized that my duty was to maintain 
an entirely neutral position with discreet silence, and I am 
a slave to duty. I didn't fo much as look her way. Pres- 
ently she resumed her place at the tiller and we went for- 
ward again. There were grease Spois on her gloves and 
a smut on her nose. I did not refer to these things. S/tg 
could see the grease on her gloves and /could see the 
smut on her nose, so why call attention to the obvious ? 

" You know," she explained clearly and concisely, but 

with an air of superiority wliich I hardly thought neces- 
sary, ahhough it might have been, " that this is a chain- 
driven machine, with roller chains and sprockets, in con- 
tradistinction to the direct-driven by longitudinal shaft 
and bevel gear to the rear axle, and a stone got into the 

'• Oh, yes," I assented brightly, under a forced gleam 
of intelligence. " Oh, yes ; did that stop it ?" 

There was more pity than reproof in the glance ^he 
bestowed upon me, and I most devoutly wished that I was 
in town riding in a plain street-car which didn't have 
sprockets, or bevel gears, or other mysterious insides that 
were not responsible for their actions. At the same time, 
if I had not loved her so I should have laughed at that 
ridiculous smut on her nose. It was in such grotesque 
contrast with her superior manner. 

" Really, Harry," she said solicitously, when we had 
jgot going again, as if nothing hail happened, " you ought 
to know something about the mechanism of an automo- 
bile. It is awfully simple, and I learned all about it in 
three or four days. Surely, if a woman can learn machin- 
ery that easy, a man ought to be able to master it much 
inore readily. " 

Wliich might have been a compliment to my sex, or a va- 
grant thrust at me, but I was thinking about something else. 

"Teach me," I implored her, not so much because I 
wanted to learn about the confounded thing, as that she 
wanted me to learn. I should have willingly taken a 
course in burglary and safe-cracking if she had asked me. 

She smiled radiantly. "Iknewyou would want to know 
more about it," she exulted, as if she had already drawn 
me from the moss-back notions of an age of str»et-cars. 

" I do — I do," I urged, thirsting for knowledge — from 
this particular source. 

" Don't you know even the least little bit ?" she asked 
in her tantalizing fashion. " Nothing about carburetors, 
nor induction gears, nor spark plugs, nor jump sparks, nor 
primary sparks, nor any of those ?" 

Possibly there might have been some slight accent on 
that word "sparks," but far be it from me to intimate 
such a thing. 

" As I hope for heaven, I do not," I answered, helpless 
as clay in the potter's hanils. 

She went into such a fit of laughter over my undis- 
guised solemnity that she let go of the pilot-wheel, the 
machine skiddooed, or whatever they call it when it be- 
gins to prance and cavort and cut figure 8s, and I came 
near tumbling into the road. Mary was quick enough to 
catch the wheel on the rebound, and, with a twist or two, 
she brought the crazy vehicle to its proper senses and got 
it straight on its course again. I was disturbed in mind 
and body. 

" That was very nearly a spill for you, wasn't it ?" she 
laughed, as though it were a laughing matter. 

" Does it do that way often .■■" 1 inquired, struggling to 
regain my composure and my place on the seat. 

"Only when people make the driver laugh, so the 
steering-wheel is neglected," she replied, as if I were to 

" What were you laughing at ?" I demanded, innocently 
ignorant of anything amusing having occurred. 

" You." 

If theie is one thing more than another which I aoom- 
inate it is to be laughed at. I always feel a ceitain degree 
of sympatliy for jokes. Good jokes, I mean, which aie 
laughed at. 

" Well," I saiti, with some asperity, " I may be funny, 
but I don't feel funny." 

She laughed again. " But you are funny, and " 

Somethin.; underneath us began to kick and splutter 
an! wheeze, and the car came to a standstill. Her an- 
noying laughter did the same. 

" .Another sprocket dropped a cog ?" I inquired, rather 
sarcastically, I fear, because I felt that she had sand- 
papered my sensibilities too rudely, and I forgot my Chris- 
tian spirit of humility. 

She resented my inopportune inquiry by deigning no 
reply, but hopped out confidently and began tinkering 
under the car. I proffered my services as before, but they 
were declined snippily and in silence. I retained my seat. 
It was so much easier to do so than when the car was 
moving, that it was a positive relief She was busy for 
some time with the machinery, and I was busy with my 
wordless thoughts. She emerged at last, with her hat on 
crooked. It was a bad sign, but I made no comment. I 
have moments of prudence that are almost wisdom. When 
we were going again she kept her eyes on the road. Her 
gloves looked like a map of grease. She must have 
rubbed her nose on them, for the smut was nearly oblit- 
erated. Did you ever notice a machinist's nose? It 
seems to be the only portion of his anatomy which is in 
touch with his grimy hands. Mary was a machinist. She 
had toUl me so. 

" What was the matter, really ?" I asked, so evidently 
anxious to learn that she looked my way and a kindlier 
light brightened her face. 

" I think something is wrong with the carburetor," she 
replied, but not with her former confidence. Indeed, i 
could detect unmistakable doubt. 

"Don't you know?" I plumped the interrogation di- 
rectly at her. 

" Oil, yes ; I know for all ordinary purposes," she said, 
with a brave attempt to recover ; " but I shall have the 
man at the garage look at it when we get back." 

It was an evidence of weakness 1 was glad to hear. A 
man is never at his best with a strong and self-reliant 
woman. But I was not urgent in Mary's necessity. I 
began to appreciate the automobile as my friend. I was 
willing that it should heap coals of fire on my head as 
soon as it was ready to do so. My spirits rose as Mary's 
remained stationary. 

We were going ahead once more, bu, not with the 
oily smoothness which makes perfect autoing a dream of 
motion, as Mary had explained before she tried it on me. 
There was distress in the iron-works somewhere ; for the 
machinery would gulp at intervals, as though choking, 
while other sounds would issue forth which I, inexpert as 
1 was, knew were symptomatic of functional derangement. 
At a cross-roads Mary veered to the left and struck out 
on a new way. This divergence was made without con- 
sulting me. ( 

" I know this road," I ventured with chivalrous polite- 


ness. " It's bad all through, and, if you will take my ad- 
vice, you will continue where you were." 

" It is a short cut home," was all the explanation she 

" Ari: you in such a hurry ' get home ?" I gently 
pleaded, forgetting the tribulatioirs of the machine in this 
new difficulty which she had so unexpectedly thrust into 
the situation. 

" No ; but I'm afraid something is wrong with the 
car, and I prefer to get it back to the garage." 

"What's the difference.'''' I cried heroically. "You 
know all about it and can fix it. I'm willing to trust 

" Thank you very much," she said, h.ilf way between 
sweetness ana sarcasm. " But it is such greasy work to 
get into the machinery, and I'd rather some one else 
did it." 

" I'll do all the rough work," I insisted, " and you can 
do the part calling for skill. Let's don't go home," I 
begged. " It is so beautiful here in the quiet country, 
and I have something to say to you, Maiy." 

She smiled. It was not the first time I liad had some- 
thing to say to her and had not said it. Possiblv she 
thought she would have to wait out there indefinitely. She 
made no effort to change her course. I was becoming 
desperate. I didn't want to go home. Home might have 
charms for her because she had one. I hadn't. I lived 
in a flat. 

Then the car stopped ; this time with a wheeze of de- 
spair and a chug that was ominous. We had got half 
way up a steep bit of hill and the car not only relused to 
proceed, but started back the other way. I didn't know 
what to do, and would have hesitated to do it, even if I 
had known. Mary was running the machine. 

"Jump out and chock it," she commanded, as she 
thrust her dainty little foot hard down on the brake, which 
failed to respond properly. 

1 knew enough about the law ot physics controlling 
automobiles to chock one backing down a hill when I was 
told to do so, and I flatter myself that I did it as well as 
an expert could have done. I felt proud of myself when I 
had chocked it to a dead stop, and I backed off a lew steps 
to survey the entourage. I never saw Mary looking pret- 
tier, and I thought her car was a beauty. Love is blind. 

" I've done all I can do," I reported quite clieerfuUy ; 
" and you will have to do the rest." 

" I suppose so," she replied, as if she firmly believed I 
might as well be at home sewing doll-rags. 

She got out rather reluctantly and with small show of 
confidence in the result of the work before her. What 
she did when she went under the wagon I don't know, but 
within a minute or two she was out again, and there was 
that look in her eyes which those have who go forth on 
hopeless undertakings. 

" Well ?" I said, and waited for her to report on iier 

" I — I," she hesitated pitifully, " I don't know what is 
the matter. I guess the spark-plug must have come out 
of the carburetor, or — or something." 

" What kind of a looking plug was it ?" I asked, sym- 
pathetic and solicitous. " Give me a description and I'll 

go back and see if I can find it. It must be in the road 
somewhere. There wasn't enough pressure on the carbu- 
wretched, or whatever you call it, to blow it over the 
fence, was there ?" 

Her lip trembled and there was positive distress in her 
manner. Never had she been so attractive. I wanted to 
hug the automobile. 

" How far are we from liome ?" she asked, as a child 

I began to feel bully. I wasn't such a mut after all. 
I didn't know motor-cars, maybe, but I knew the country 
we were in. 

" Oh, about a dozen miles or so," I told her, with a 
confidence that was almost insolent. " You ought to 
make the distance back in an hour, even over this road,- 
when you get the machine into running order." 

" But, Harry," and she drew a step nearer to me, " f 
can't put it in order. I don't know how." 

"Gee," I exclaimed, and whistled the remainder of the 
bar, crescendo; 

She came over a little nearer — nearer to me than to 
her beloved car, helpless now in the road. My star was- 
rising. But I could never forget the car for the lift it had' 

" What shall we do ?" she asked in a shaky, scared 

" I can walk to town and send another machine out for 
you," I suggested with unfeeling practicality. 

" And leave me here all alone ?" she sliivered. 

" Oh, you won't be alone," I laughed, like a hyena. 
"You'll have your car; I guess it won't go away and 
leave you." 

" You are horrid and cruel ; that's what you are,' she 
half cried. 

"And you are thoughtless and selfish," I retorted. 
" You should have known what this confounded Juggernaut 
would do in the open air, and thought of others before 
bringing me away out here in the woods to strand me 
like this. You might as well kill people with the blamed 
thing as to scare them to death." 

She was very unhappy and I gloated over her. " For- 
give me, Harry," she pleaded, coming so close that she 
laid her hand on my arm. " Forgive me, and I'll never 
do so again." 

" But I want to come again," I blurted out in haste^ 
forgetting the villain's part I was playing. 

She laughed then, and I laughed, and we sat dowrt 
together on a log by the roadside to consider ways and 
means of relief in our sore extremity. 

" I can fix it so it will go all right," I asserted, after I 
had teased her for some time to my infinite delight and 
her great discomfiture. 

" How ?" she inquired, betraying incipient appreciation 
of my hitherto despised capabilities. 

" By applying a plug, different somewhat from the lost 
one, to the running-gear instead of the carburetor," I 
replied, assuming such a technical tone that I was sure I 
should convince her ot masculine superiority in me- 

I was not mistaken. 

" And you knew all the time how ?" she blazed a' me 

so suddenly that I could not have bounced off of that log 
quicker if a lizard had run up my back. " And you let 
tne worry and work over it trying to fix it myself?" she 
added, rising from the log and facing me. 

I bowed in affirmation. Words would have been fuel 
to the flames and we were ten miles from a fire-engine. 
She patted her foot on the ground with an ill-suppressed 
fierceness that would have frightened me into spasms 
under ordinary circumstances. Shte had actually lost her 
temper. But she should not be judged too harshly. The 
real value of a woman's temper is not appreciated until it 
is lost. 

"Will you Qc Kind enough to procure the plug, Mr. 
Denton ?" she said with a frigidity of manner calculated to 
freeze me beyond the possibility of any future warmth to 

I was ashamed of myself for the imposition I was play- 
ing upon her, but the end should justify the means. 

" You will have to wait here ten minutes," I replied as 
■stiffly as if the congelation had occurred, " until I go to 
a place down the road a bit where they keep such things. 
You are not afraid to wait alone for ten minutes, are 
you ?" I added, with a Samaritan solicitude which 
should have brought tears of gratitude to her eyes, but it 
did not. 

" 1 am not afraid at all," she said, tossing her head de- 
fiantly at every power of evil. A'nd only so shortly before 
she had been palsied by pale fear at the mere thought of 
'being left alone there in the grewsome silence of the 
voiceless fields, the dumb and devious road, the w-ild, 
weird woods. Oh, Mary ! 

I bowed again and slowly retired. Ten or a dozen 
iminutes later, because I hurried when she couldn't see 

me, I came back on a rather rickety but reliable farm 
horse. He was collared and traced for service, and I had 
a rope to attach him to the erstwhile horseless vehicle 
which had brought us to this humiliating strait. She 
stared at us as we approached, but she was too greatly 
overcome to speak. 

I pulled up before her. 

"I have procured the plug," I said with calm confi- 
dence in the potentiality which I straddled. I may have 
felt the victor's emotions of triumph struggling within my 
Ijosom, but I made no sign. 

" Attach it to the running-gear," she responded, a 
great light dawning upon her — a glory envelopmg her 
and the plug and me. It touched with its inspiring radi- 
ance even the mute inglorious motor-car, standing cold 
and still in the middle of the road. She looked up at me 
and laughed ; laughed as though it were tonic to her 
atrophied spirits. 

" Harrv, dear," she cried in a voice of happy hope and 
promise, " you are a jewel." 

" For you to wear always, Mary ?" I murmured 'twixt 
joy and fear, and tumbled incontinently off of the old plug, 
which was the very foundation of our deliverance. Mary 
held out her hands to me and — however, that is an en- 
tirely different matter. 

Ours was not much of a pageant to look at as we 
wended our way homeward, with me now as chauffeur, 
but what did we care ? We were so buoyantly happy 
that we weren't any load at all, and Mary's motor-car had 
a plug attached to its running-gear which for sparking 
purposes made inductions and differentials and bevels and 
carburetors no more than a bunch of sounding brass-works 
and tinkling cymbals. Selah ! 

His Other Half 

IKE was an able-bodied, valuable negro. His master 

regarded him as his best hand. 

Ike also set a high value on himself. He was ambi- 
tious, as well as industrious, and desired to be his own 
owner. Therefore he made his master an offer to become 
his own purchaser. 

On all regulated plantations before the war negroes 
had allotted lands or tasks whereon or whereby they 
could earn money for themselves, the master and mistress 
usually buying from them any products of their industry 
offered for sale. 

The master put a fair price upon Ike — the negro's 
pride would have been deeply hurt had the price been too 
low — and Ike began paying for himself on the installment 
plan. All went very well till Ike had gotten his price 
half paid. 

Whatever happened, Ike had always ready this self- 
^ratulatory assertion, " Um-hum, I half-free anyhow. 

On a holiday for Ike he had hired himself out for driver 
ifor bringing home a drove of newly-purchased cattle to a 
.neighboring plantation. It was high-water time, the sea- 

son of fierce spring freshets and dangerous swollen 
sloughs. Ike got nearly drowned in the big swamp. His 
resuscitation seemed almost a miracle, so nearly had he 
gone over the Great River. 

Next day he came to his master antl stood before him, 
fingering his wool hat, when the following dialogue 

" What is it, Ike ?" 

" Master, 1 sho' liketer been drownded yistiddy !" 

•' You surely were nearly gone, Ike. We had a time 
bringing you to." 

" Yas, massa ; thanky massa. I sho' thought I was 
gone. Massa, I come ax you fer ter buy back fum me 
my y'o'her half." 

" Buy the half you have paid me for ? Want to go 
back to lifelong slavery ? Why ?" 

" Massa, ownin' niggers is too good a way to los' 
money. I liketer los' all dat five hund'ard dollahs worf o( 
my half er me yistiddy by jes drowndin'. Nigger prop- 
e'rty 's too resky fo' me. Gimme back dat five hund'ard 
dollahs. please, sah, an' yo' take de resk er ownin" dis 
niffSfer." martha young. 













in ^ 

" So the living skeleton wanted to marry the fat lad3'?" 

" Yes ; but the manager kicked — said it was a well-known fact that married peciple grew to look 
like one another." 

A Songless Song. 

I JPON the waving birk 
*-• The turk 

Is dreaming ot his 
doom ; 
His wattles to and fro, 
Incarnadine the gloom. 

As second joints and wings 
Are things 
For which he knows 
we long. 
He with his drumsticks 

And hums — 
He is a songless song ; 

A songless song to fill 
And thrill 
Our souls with verve 
and vim, 
Until we see him puffed 
And stuffed 
With chestnuts to the 

The Useful Capitals. 

/^ADMUS sat down one day and 
invented the alphabet. After 
several hours of painstaking toil he 
had designed all the small letters. 

" They are very pretty," he said. 
" I like their curves and curls, and 
no doubt they will be of inestimable 
benefit to the people." Musing for 
a moment, he continued, " I won- 
der, though, if these letters will be 
sufficient to supply all the needs of 
the future. Ah, I had forgotten 
the writers of fables." 

Whereat he turned to and in- 
vented the capital letters. 

Otherwise we might never have 
had any instructive morals in our 
daily reading. 

An Unpardonable Fault. 

Mr. Rounder — " Why did you 
ever let Makeup go .' He was a 
thoroughly reliable man." 

Mr. Bounder (newspaper own- 
er) — " Reliable ? Yes, but careless. 
He printed my best editorial on the 
Venezuela question on the tax-sales 
supplement and signed it 'Old Sub- 
scriber.' Reliable .' Humph !" 

The Quarrel. 

(( UOW did it happen ?" 

■ I "Well, she insisted on go- 
ing to the club and he threatened 
to go home tg his father." 


' But she 's so homely !" 

' Well, that 's her privilege, I suppose " 

■ Yes, I know ; but some persons abuse their irivileges so !" 


Millie's Boat. 

WINKLING ill the breezes, 
Twinkling on tlie brine, 
Bobs that frail and dainty 
Little boat of mine. 

O'er the waves she scampers, 
Rocking all the while. 

And she '11 soon be weary- 
Sailing mile on mile. 

But she will be happy 

When the night is here, 

For then with my playthings, 
Bright and ever dear, 

I will lay her gently. 

And to dreams she'll dart 

With the pasteboard camel 
And the yellow cart. 

Her Little Error. 

H IS SHE gentle .''" asked the city chap, who thought he 

' wanted to buy a steed. 

"Gentle ?" ejaculated the country chap, \<-ho had one 
to sell. " Why, she's as gentle as a suckin' dove. Hain't 
got a fault or failin' in the world — nussir. She don't kick, 
or strike, or bite " 

At that instant the equine paragon swung her head 
viciously around and snapped off a piece of the rural rob- 
ber's southwest ear. 

" That is, not with the deliberate intention of doin' any 
harm. The mare is sorter absent-minded at times, an' 
I kinder guess she must 'a' mistook my ear fer a cabbage- 

Safer, Perhaps. 

(( DELLINGHAM'S religion is. like his property," said 
Trivvet to Dicer. 
" How's that .'" 
•' It's all in his wife's name." 

He Was Hardened. 

f\NCF. there lived a man who went out west 
to hunt squirrels and birds. 

On a lonely road he was captured by a band 
of Indians, who said they composed the west- 
ern branch of the society for the prevention of 
cruelty to the feathered tribe, and as he had 
brought no whiskey with him with which to 
square himself they decided to punish him. 

Accordingly they put him between two 
freight-cars and crushed him twenty minutes. 

But the man still lived. 

Then they threw him down and danced 
fandangoes all over him. 

But the man rose happier than ever. 

Then they put him under a pile driver, 
pummeled him and knocked him around like 
a medicine-ball. 

But the man was as lively as ever and beg- 
ged for more. He said it made him only a lit- 
tle homesick. 

Then it suddenly came to the red men that perhaps 
this individual was possessed of the devil, and they knelt 
down and worshiped him. 

Then they hurried off, and as the liberated man walked 
away he mumbled, 

" Had they known I w-as a Brooklynite and had crossed 
the Brooklyn bridge every night at six o'clock for ten years 
it would have saved them a great deal of humiliation." 

Moral — Before tackling a man have him looked up by 
some mercantile agency. f. i-. pitzer. 

After the Convention. 

A YE.'VR ago they sought me out 
*• To learn my views on this and that; 
They asked me what I thought about 

High tariff, also standing pat. • • 

My silence only urged them on ; 

Bewilderedly to me they turned — 
But all my high estate is gone 

Since they've adjourned. 

A month ago they said of me 

(Although I firmly shook my head), 
*'He is a possibility," 

And paid no heed to what I said ; 
For I — I was so dignified 

And hinted that high place I 
Well, now I walk — I used to ride — 

Since they've adjourned. 

A week ago 'most all the bands 

Were playing in my neighborhood. 
And I was always shaking hands 

And telling folks tiiey were too 
1 can't begin to tell you how 

The rockets whizzed and bonfires 
burned ; 
But all is mighty silent now, 

.Since they've adjourned. 

A dark horse I — and that was all. 

Most cautiously I had been groomed 
And carefully kept in my stall 

And by an "undercurrent" 
Oh, well, it's over. As for me. 

One solid lesson I have learned — 
I'm not a possibility 

Since tliey've adjourned. 

"Ah always makes up mah best jokes jes' aftah .\h wakes up in de mawnin'. 
" Huh ! yo' always tells 'em jes' afore eberybody else goes ter sleep " 




•' Isn't it lovely and quiet up here, Jack ?" 
" Yes, dear. We're right above Phila- 

Mental Microbes. 

THE course of duty is another one that doesn't run 

The way of the transgressor is barred by extradition 

Fate gets a good deal of blame which belongs to 

The vice-presidency is not usually preceded by a vice- 
presidential bee. 

The cloud has no silver lining for the man whose um- 
brella has been borrowed. 

The bee doesn't talk about " making things hum " — it 
does the humming itself. 

The man who rests on his laurels is apt to e.xcite the 
suspicion thai he won them by a fluke. 

If you want ocular demonstration of the fact that the 
world moves, go to Harlem on the first of May. 

The Two John Smiths. 

lOHN SMITH number one stole one chicken. He was 
sent to jail for thirty days. 

While there he reformed and became another man. 
He became John Smith number two. 

Joim Smith number two organized a chicken trust, took, 
two million chickens as his fee for organizing it, and sold 
the chickens when the market was at its highest. 

Thus he was enabled to endow the j.iil with a library. 

This goes to show that if we ponder properly over our 
misdeeds we will readily see where we did not make them 
big enough. 

Gauzy Affairs. 

(( |\'E sworn ofT wearing open-work hosiery," stated the 
fair damsel. 
" Mercy !" cried her friend. " What a sacrifice !" 
" I know it is ; but I hung a pair of them on the Christ- 
mas-tree and all my presents slipped through th"; holes." 

Not Creamery. 

n HOW was the show ?" 


• The first part wasn't bad, but the rest of it ws 
pretty rank." 

" Well, that's not surprising, seeing that it was the 

Insuperable Obstacle. 

Fosdick — "Come and see us, Keedick. You'll Snd us 

in the same place." 

Keedick — " I thought you intended to rrove." 

Fosdick — " We did, but we couldn't find a house that 

suited the cook." 


Mr. Giraffe — " I must certainly buy myself a stronger 
pair of glasses or give up wearing tigh collars I can't see a^ 
thing at this distance." 


c „ 

g s o 

3 2, M 
n C 

g en 




Chimmie — "So yer refuse me 'cause I'm poor? Well, yer'Il find dat money 
don't bring happiness." 

AM.ANDY — "Well, it don't have ter. See? It kin hire it brung." 

Ohio Corn and Pumpkins. 

"THERE happened at my home a party of young 
folks. Amongst them was a young man who 
had been a student in an agricultural college in 
Indiana. He was telling about the wonderful ex- 
hibits of farm products that came to the college 
from different parts of the state, and among the 
things that he n^entioned were pumpkins. After 
he had finished, my father, who was a farmer in 
Ohio in years long gone by, spoke up and said, 

'■ Young man, there never was a time when 
the crops in Indiana could compare with the 
crops in Ohio. Why, one time we lost a sheep, 
and, try as we might, w-e could not find it. We 
lost another one and still we could not find them. 
We kept losing them until nine had disappeared. 
We e.xamined the fences, found them all intact 
and in good repair. We finally wandered into 
tne pumpkin-patch and there found the tail of one 
of the sheep protruding out of the side of one of 
the pumpkins, and upon further examination 
found that all nine of them had burrowed their 
way into that pumpkin. You speak about the 
corn the hoosiers raise in Indiana. Why, I recall 
one time, when a company was building a rail- 
road through Oliio, they had to cut through a 
hill to the depth of ten feet, and while doing so 
one of the teams, in feeding, dropped some grains 
of corn on the yellow clay. The next year a 
young man who happened to be a professor in an 
agricultural college in Indiana happened along, 
and, after viewing this very fine specimen of Ohio 
corn raised in the yellow cla) without any culti- 

vation, pulled out his knife, cut a couple 
of stalks about seven feet long each, with 
two fine ears on it, and remarked, 'Why, 
they raise better corn in the yellow clay 
here in Ohio than we raise in black fertile 
soil in Indiana.' " 

The young student had no more to say 
about the splendid crops on exhibition in 
the agricultural college. 


Over the Wedding Presents. 

** \JOW, marriage isn't a lottery after 

'^ all, is it, dear?" 

"Well, I don't see how we are going 
to get rid of some of these clocks unless 
we hold a raffle." 

Between the Acts. 

Willie — " You don't seem to enjoy that 
sandwich, Miss Magin." 

Bonnie — " No. This chicken tastes 
like sawdust." 

Willie — " Well, Miss Magin, you must 
remember that's ' fine boarc'.' " 

Comedian — 
ply howled." 


• Why, when 1 did my act in Centreville the audience sitn- 

'•And nobody else ihere to put the pup out, I suppose?" 


N ^ N 

73 ^ 7i 

> ■ > 

t U "tJ 

S ■; 55 

! I I 

Human Nature. 

THE Esquimau desires things hot — 
' He seeks the land of Hottentot. 
The Hottentot oft yearns for snow — 
He searches for the Esquimau. 
Thus you and I forever go, 
Like Hottentot and Esquimau, 
In search of cither cold or hot. 
Like Esquimau or Hottentot. 

Lackaday, Ladies ! 

Cobwigger — " Did the women's clubs 
have a harmonious convention ?" 

Merritt — "No. The only time thev 
got together was when they were having 
their picture taken." 

His Quandary. 

Druggist — " What is it, sir ?" 

Mr. Chiney — " I really don't know ; 

I'm in a quandary. The moths have 

almost ruined my wig, and I don't know 

whether to get moth-balls or hair-restorer." 

Freddie — "Say, dad, why did those fel- 
lows in the tally-ho toot the liorn ?" 

Cobwigger — " I guess they were trying 
to revive memories of the time when llieir 
ancestors peddled fisii." 

Uncle Hank — " Yessir ; when I git enough material collected I'm goin' ter build a house thet'Il 
be a regular monument to me an' my ancestors." 

Niece — ■' What kind of a house will it be. uncle?" 

Uncle Hank — " It'll be a brick house — a gold-brick house." 

Visitor — " I trust )-ou will profit by this experience." 
Footpad Pete — " Siu-e ! De next time I won't tackle such a big feller.' 

Her Surprise. 

IT was the first pair of 
bed-socks that Beth 
had ever seen. 

" Goodness !" she ex- 
claimed, surprised ; " I 
wouldn't w-ant to wear 
soft-shelled shoes." 

A Faint-hearted 

Tommy Tuff — " Say, 
fellers ! this kid 's no 
good. He won't play 
pirate 'cause his mudder 
'11 give him a lickin' fer 
gittin' his collar dirty." 

Hot and Cold. 

AN experienced Chica- 
go woman says that 
a fine example of hot and 
cold may be found in the 
case of a lover who be- 
comes a husband. 

Acme of Bliss. 

Pat — "An' phat would 
yez do if yez wor rich ?" 

Mike — " Oi'd hov wan 
av ihim autymobiles thot 
blows a whistle ivery 

Wholesale Mining. 
tir'OLD is often 
found in the 
gizzards of birds shot 
in the Klondike," ob- 
served the man who 
reads the interesting 
notes in the papers. 

"Yes," said the 
other man ; " and if 
I were seeking gold I 
believe I would rather 
train some of those 
birds than hire min- 

•■ Why r 

"Because the miner 
gets the gold in 
quartz, but the bird 
finds it by pecks." 

Marked Down. 

THE marked-down 
habit was strong in 
her. She had been 
telling her husband 
that her dearest 
woman friend had 
made her feel so 

"Like thirty cents ?" 
he queried. 

she replied. 

Her Pipe 

Went Out. 

(( l-IE conies so often 
to call upon 
me, "she mused, "that 
I can draw but one 
inference. Where 
there is so much 
smoke there must be 
some fire. 

Two weeks later 
she was abashed to 
learn that he was go- 
ing to marry another 
girl. Then she re- 
called, bitterly, her 

"The smoke I 
saw," she reflected, 
" must have been that 
from a pipe-dream." 

Slang is sometimes 
a balm to a broken 




iA ADE their mon- 
ey recently ?" 

" Yes. Her father 
was a promoter. It is 
rumored that they are 
going to adopt as a 
coat-of-arms a water- 
ing-pot rampant." 

First elephant — " VVliat a sliame lliey wouldn't allow us to sit in the grand-stand ! 
Second elephant — " Well, tuey had weighly reasons for it." 



U o 


l-< ' -c 

A certain young person of Bray 
Was so very homely, they say. 

Every cluck she looked at 

Not only stood pat, 
But prompily went round the wrong way. 

One Girl's Sacrifice. 

Madge — " How does she come to give up 
so many things during Lent ?" 

Marjoric — "She realizes it It the only way 
she can save enough money to buy an Easter 

an Opinion. 

(( IVO^^'. gentle- 
men," says 
the irate individual 
to the iceman, the 
plumber, and the 
coal man, " I wish 
to voice my opin- 
ion of you while I 
have you all three 
together. I do not 
wonder at your 
roobingme. What 
forces me to stand 
aghast is your con- 
summate nerve in 
dispensing with 
the conveniij - 
mask during the 
operation. Are 
you so utterly lost 
to the proprieties?" 
With a forced 
laugh, they turn 


THOUGH there's 
no love's I equital. 
They're wed in a 
trice ; 
Foi he has the title. 
While she has the 


'• They picked me down at the club to win the 
feather-weight championship to-night." 

" So I see. .\nd the \ did an excellent job. " 

His Bright Idea. 

/^HEOPS was building the pyramid. 

" That was a bright idea of my own," he ex- 
plained. " I was bound to put some laundry-marks 
on a thing they couldn't mangle." 

With a rueful glance at his cuffs, he felt he had 
outwitted his mortal foe. 

" Musici.ins have such long hair !" 
" Yes ; it's the listeners who get bald.' 

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MiiKGENSTERX — " Good-evening, Rosenstcin. I 
see you've got yoiir new cloth ing-ftictory started — 
the Rebecca Suit Company, you call it. Wliy did 
you name it after a wuman ?" 

ROSENSTEIN — " For luck. It's the name of an 
old flame of mine." 

Worse Yet. 

v^^^HlY dear," said Mr. Penheck timidly, pausing in his 

■ W ■ occupation of dusting the chandelier, " did you 

■ A k ■ mail those letters I asked you to post for me ? " 
i^^H I " Of course I did," answered Mrs. Penheck, 
' deep in her perusal of the evening paper. 

" It is strange," commented Mr. Penheck, with a touch 
of doubt in his tone, " that I haven't received any answers 
yet. One of the letters was to Brother AVilliam, and " 

" Maybe somebody forgot to mail the answers," inter- 
rupted Mrs. Penheck. " Don't alw.ays be hinting that I am 
the only woman on earth who forgets to mail letters." 

" I am not hinting, mv angel," faltered IMr. Penheck as 
he started toward the kitchen; "but I certainly think it 
strange " 

" Now just wait," ordered Mrs. Penheck, dropping her 
paper. '• Let's get this all straightened out right now. 1 
<lon't want those letters bobbing up at every meal for the 
next month. When did you give them to me to mail ?" 

'• It was either last Monday or Wednesday " 

"Good heavens, man ! don't you know what day it was?" 

" I am trying to decide. I can't remember whether I 
wrote them after I had hung out the clothes or after I had 
finished the ironing: " 

" It must have been after you finished the ironing. You 
evidently had them on your mind while you were ironing, for 
my white-duck skirts are simply not fit to wear to business." 

"".'.'ell, whenever it was, I remember I made some memo- 
randa on my desk-calendar That will prove it," Mr. Pen- 
heck said with a triumphant smile, going to his own little 
desk in the corner of the room. "Why, here are the letters!" 
he cried. " 1 must have forgotten to hand them to you." 

" I guess you did '" sniffed Mrs. Penheck ; " I guess you 
did ! I do think it is time you were learning to know 
your own mind, Henry." 

" But I " began Mr. Penheck. 

"But nothing! Am I to eat at home this evening or go to 
a restauraflt? Ne.xt thing I know you'll be accusing me ol 
forgetting to eat my dinner when you have forgotten to 
put it on the table." 

Mr. Penheck hurried to the kitchen, while his wife added 
the disputed letters to a bunch of others which were in her 
ample pocket, and which she had forgotten to mail. 

" I'll post the whole batch on my way to the office in the 
morning," she said, "and then Henry will get enough letters 
in reply to keep his mind off my summer clothes until the 
weather gets cooler." 

•• llivin feraive me fer iver makin' ih shtatemint 
lliot a dude wor no use in this wur-nild !" 

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Pure Pessimism. 

JOMEN go tu cuuking-clubs 
And always liire a cook ; 
People go to reading-clubs 
And never buy a book ; 
Women go to sewing-clubs 

And never make a seam ; 
People join the writing-clubs 
And never spoil a ream. 

People go to golfing-clubs 

And never find the tee ; 
People lead in boating-clubs 

Who never see the sea ; 
People join athletic clubs. 

And still their strength is weak ; 
People in debating-clubs 

Are seldom known to speak. 

People in amusement clubs 

Declare this life a bore ; 
Those in peace-procuring clubs 

Are always out for gore ; 
Those who fill the singing-clubs 

Are destitute of song — 
That's the look of all the clubs 

To one who can't belong. 

<t/^UT on the fly !" ex- 

claimed the quick-wit- 
ted but unpopular actor as he 
stopped an egg from which a 
chicken dropped. 


What Would Be Expected. 

Ir^TlOW are you getting along 
1 1 I with your project of or- 
ganizing a breakfast- 
food club ?" asked Clarke. 

"Fairly, only," replied Tigg. 
" You see, I sent out a lot of 
tentative constitutions and by- 
laws, and I suppose the recipi- 
ents have not yet fully digested 
their provisions." 

" There's where you made 
your mistake, man," said 

" Mistake ? How .'" 

" Such a club should have a 
predigested constitution," was 

the answer. 


Will Be Absorbed 

in the Game. 

yason — " I paid twenty-five 
cents fer thet there checker- 

Sania7itJui — "Yew spend- 
thrift ! Yew needed a good 
many other things worse'n yew 
did a checker-board." 

Jason — " I knowed it ; but 
now I won't hev time tew think 
thet I need "em." 

Lizzie — " Aw, say ! me sister Mag 's got Paderewski skinned ter death as a pianist — an' she never took a lesson. 
Chimmie — " HuUy gee ! Me big brudder Mike hez got 'em all fried to a crisp on de violin — an' he made his own 
violin, too, outen a soap-box an' some leather shoe-strings." 















Ha) I-^ 



Zebra—" Say, move over and lei me have that spr.t imder the green bav-tree, will vou?" 
Leopard— " What a foolish wish from one of your stripe '. Don't you know a leopard can't 
ee his spots ?" 

change his spots 


fFrem tht ll'rekly Trtgo Truck, 

THE old man Gunn, 

Of Jayhawker's nm> 

Who had the mon, 

Died to-day at one. 

A neighbor's son 

Shot Ciunn 

With a shot-gtm. 

lie leaves one 


Now even.' one 

Asks every one, 
'■ Shall we call this son. 

This Gunn's son, 

This son ol a Gimn, 

The heir Gimn ?" 

Correct Time. 

Fat — " An' whoy do 
yez carry two watches ?'" 

Mike '• Faith, Oinade 
wan to see how shlow th"' 
other wan is." 


" 5!.^ T'^J °* y°" *° ^""^ '''"' "^'* ^ K"^ ^« if he is a rough diamond." 
" That s the reason he need? cutting." 


Uncle Hiram 'with a sigh of r,!!ief) 
wuz after me." 


Wa-al. this is what I call luck. 


Not Definite. 

ILEASE print in- 
structions for 
smoking sausage," 
wrote the constan' 
reader to the " an- 
swers-for-the-anxious " 

'■Which — the long 
or the fine cut?" he 
w rote beneath the 

Thought sure 'Mandy 

IJ.4YNE had just writ- 
ten " Home, sweet 

" Yes," he admitted 
proudly; "I don't 
think it is bad. I got 
my inspiration while 
I was watching Kelly 
slide for it." 

Eagerly he scanned 
the score to see if 
the home team had 

Don't Rush the Season. 

{Rc-member '"Punch's" adz'ice,) 
|E.\RD a robin on the limb — 
Took my flannels off to him. 
Saw a bluejay on the wing — 
Pitched goloshes with a fling. 


Saw a fish-worm on the lawn — 
Winter coat went into pawn. 
On the fence an old tomcnt — 
Out of sight my old cloth hat. 

Saw the merry kids at play — 
Bought a light top-coat that day. 
Hurdy-gurdy struck toy ear — 
Then 1 said, "I know it s here."* 

That night came a snow and 

sleet — 
Ergo, cold and clammy feet. u=r 
Backache, earache, nosea-whiz — 
Laid up now with rheumatiz. 

* The spring-fever. 

A FELLER took a pig to sea 
an" give him th' best room 
in th' first cabin. He fed him 
on prime beefsteak; he 
dressed him in th' finest clo'es; 
he put money in liis pocket. 
" Ain't you happy ?" he says 
to th' pig. " No, " says the 
pig ; " not by a long shot !" 
says th' pig. " There ain't no 
mud aooard to waller in, an' 
what I like to eat is swill." 

Mr. Jones— 

Mks. JoNES- 

dicitis can wait," 


' I think I'm going to have appendicitis." 

'■ Oh. you do? Well, I think I'm going to have a new hat, and your appen- 

Advertisements in the " Hourly Digest " for 1925. 

OST — A splendid opportunity to rise by a 
young man who did not take our cor- 
respondence course in " air-ship navi- 
gation." Address Findem & Fal^em. 

Female help wanted — A cook ; no 
questions asked about place just left. 
We have no children, no hobbies, and 
can furnish recommendations from 
former cooks. Cook can have every 
ot'ier afternoon off, and the remaining 
afternoons can entertain in the parlor. Call on Mrs. Long 

To let — A corner room in the Smoke-stack building on 
the forty-second floor. Room has four window fire-escapes, 
six chemical extinguishers, three parachutes, and an asbestos 
air-ship. Call at building after non-union hours — three p. m. 

v^ ' 


Captain Crumb — '• The kind of bait I uses. Cap'n Blunt, depends on wot 
I fish fer." '■■ 

"Do you know, Cholly, I could just die yachting." 
"Yes? I feel hke giving up everything for it." 

The Classical Bee-keeper. 

lifE venture to complain to the bee-keeper of 
the quality of tlie honey he has sent us. 

"We don't believe the stuff is pure," we 
declare. " It seems to us that it has been 

" ' Honey soit qui mal y pense," " he quotes 

Awed somewhat by the sonorous quality of- 
his speech we retreat in semi-confusion. 

For sale — An original and polished 
monkey. Can be used at dinners. The 
owner is going to retire from society and 
write a society novel. Mrs. Will Gadabout. 

He Stopped. 

<( IVJOW, there was Jones. He was one oi 
your methodical men — always boast- 
ed that his business ran like clockwork." 

"What of it ?" 

" Well, that was what there was of it. 
He thought he could lose all the time he 
wished and the business would run on just 
the same. The result was he had several 
strikes when he wasn't looking for them, 
and finally his creditors wound him up." 

" What became of him ?" 

"Saw him yesterday. He's as set in 
his ways as ever." 

Captain Bujnt — "What in the wide seas are ye fishin' fer now, Cap'n 




An Old Salt's Observations. 

I YELLER journalist crossed with me. " ^Yhat do 
you use such tarnation big head-lines fei .''" I 
asked of him. " What do you use such surprisin' 

' ' big sails far ?" he asked of me. " To make th' 

ship go," I says. " Same with me," says he. 

I knew a farmer whose crops was a-sufferin' from 
drought to git down on his marrow-bones an' thank God 
when a shower come on. His daughter was at the county 
fair that day. She come home a-cryin' 'cause th' rain had 
spi'led her new hat. 

A ship's caulker, gittin' a dol- 
lar an' a half a day, might, by 
doin' bad work with his hammer 
an' his oakum, be responsible fer 
the loss of a ship worth five hun- 
dred thousand dollars an' carryin' 
a hundred an' forty-eight passen- 
gers, besides th' crew an' fo'c's'le 

A brook-trout kicked because 
th' pool he lived in was too small. 
I took him an' put him in th' 
ocean. " There," says I ; " I reckon 
that '11 be big enough fer you. 
How do you like it .'" " Lands 
sake I" says the brook-trout. " It's 
salt, ain't it ? Take me back home, 
please, captain." 

I dropped a ten - dollar gold 
piece overboard once, an' it sunk 
like a shot. Very same day I 
dropped an empty tomato-can into 
th' boundin' ocean — an' I bet it's 
floatin' yet. That's th' way with 

men. I've seen solid merit that 
seerried to be too heavy to stay 
at the top. 

A sailor was cast on a desert 
island with sixteen hunderd an' 
four dollars in gold coin, an' jest 
exactly two hunderd an' seventy- 
six thousan' dollars in one-thou- 
sand-dollar bills. He also had 
a gun an' quite a lot of powder, 
but he didn't have no shot, an' 
he was shy of waddin'. He cut 
th' coin up into slugs fer shot an' 
used th' bills fer wads. Then he 
shot a bird fer supper. It was 
a very nice, fat bird, an' tasted 
mighty good. " Beats all what 
money '11 do !" says he. 

I knew a farmer that had th' 

reputation of bein' awful careful. 

He'd spend six weeks considerin' 

'fore he'd buy a cow. My ! how 

careful he would be examinin' 

that cow's meat an' milk an' dis- 

• position ! But he married a girl 

he'd only known two weeks, an' 

then said marriage was a failure 'cause she couldn't make 

good butter. 

Far Ahead of His Time. 

r\E,\IOSTHENES was practicing with pebbles in his 

" How foolish !" said his wife. 
Russian yet." 

Perceiving his wasted efforts, 
his attempt. 

" Nobody is speaking 
he at once abandoned 

Lady [ivho is posing and rather tired) — '• Oh, my dear Mr. Dcolan, haven't you yet 
got it all right for taking me?" 

Mr. Doolan (amateur photographer) — " My dear lady, it'll be fine? You're just in 
the very attitude. Come round, now, and see for yourself." 

J t 

"o " 


Ferd Sclofferinsky's Confession 

UPON the fiddle all the day. 
And sometimes a'l llie night, 
I with my finest vigor play, 
And quickly put to flight 

The grim mosquitoes as they file 

The air in manner gay 
About my little domicile 

In Morristown, Is'. J. 

I'm worth my weight in gold because 
I make the skeeter scoot, 

And more than spike his hungry jaws 
And beat the burning boot 

In swiftly knocking him awry ; 

And so I shout ' ' Hooray ! 
No skeeter 's fiddle-proof when I 

A fugue from Wagner play." 

lUDGIN li from what they have to 
show for it, some people's time 
must be counterfeit monev. 

An iayl of 

the Street. 

T was in Broad- 
way at the cab- 
stand by Gree- 
ley square. A 
foolish questioner, who 
belonged to the great ag- 
gregation of the blind to 
the obvious, came by. 
She paused and ap- 
proaclied a cabman on 
his box. 

" Are you the driver of 
the cab ?" she asked. 

The cabman was cyn- 
ical, as cabmen grow to 
be in their profession. 

•■ No, ma'am," he re- 
sponded, with a dipping 
motion of his bent inde.x- 
finger toward the animal 
in the shafts. " That's 
thedriver; I'm the horse." 
Only a seasoned cab- 
man could have done it 
as he did, and tlie lady, 
with an indignant sniff, 
woke up. 


Cora — " She didn't tell 
him that she has been 
engaged before ?" 

Dora — "Oh, no. She's 
keeping that quiet for 
strategic reasons." 


■• \ ou say you are crying because you jammed your 
finger, little bov ?" 

•■ V-yetli, thir ; I put my finger in the jam an' m- 
miither caught me doing it." 

Dr. Mo.nk — ■ H'm ! No appetite— can't eat a thing, eh ? Diet on tacks and small nails and take a magnet befnre eacl> meal." 


His wife — " Sir, you are intoxicated ; your speech betrays you !" 

Mr. Hibaul — " Madam, 'ahmshamed of your (hie) ignorance ; you're 'way behind timsh — don't 
you know golf dialect when you (hie) h-h-hear it ? ' 

From the Spanist 

[rgaiURING a review 
I PJ of his soldiers the 
cer, observing that he 
could not see the shirt 
of one of the soldiers, 
approached him, unbut- 
toned his coat and dis- 
covered that he wore 

" How is this, you 
dirty fellow," he ex- 
claimed; " where 's 
your shirt ?" 

" Ah, captain," re- 
plied the soldier, " I 
sold it to buy some soap 
with which to wash it, 
for it was sadly in need 
of it."" 

IF YOU want a neigh- 
bor — be one. 


An Eye for 


DON'T want to 
do any advertis- 
ing," growls the 
merchant when the so- 
licitor approaches him. 

" But I am sure you 
will soon see the advan- 
tage of having your 
name and firm men- 
tioned in our paper," 
argues the solicitor. 
" Let me show you our 
last circulation state- 
ment, and " 

"Now, look here, 
young man ! Can't you 
take no for an answer ? 
First thing you know 
I'll lose my temper, 
and " 

" If you do, sir," sug- 
gests the courteous so- 
licitor, " try our lost- 
and-found column. 
You're sure to get quick 

XN I ^'^ 

II U£ has a wife in 
ev'ry port," says 
they. "No wonder, 
then, he stays to sea," 
says I. 


First burglar—-' We had ter torture de old gent ter make him give up his dough.' 

Second burglar—" Burn him ?" 

First burglar — -No ; me partner played Wagner on de pianner." 



't4 <U 







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S " 

TO ^ 


4J -i::j 

< V 



He'd Heard 

About Them. 

illTTING before his 
straw bungalow 
was Mustafa 
Dhrinke, king of Cana- 
bilia-on-tlie-bog. H i s 
slaves stood like a min- 
strel troupe in a semi- 
circle about him, salaam- 
ing so low that they 
burned their foreheads 
on the hot sands of the 

" By the beard of 
Pfeffer !" began the king, 
" here I've been ringing 
for a waiter for the past 
moon. Hereafter I swear 
by the left ear of Bryan 
that I will deduct a peso 
from your wajiis for ev- 
ery kilometre that you 
keep me waiting. What 

was that you served me yesterday a. m.? It upset me 

" That, oh, Pickleface V began the tallest slave in 
a sing-song tone of voice, arising and reading from a 
yellow papyrus, " was a United States senator from 

" Well, the next time you serve one of those things," 
yelled Mustafa, " if you'll just serve liim without his whisk- 

*' The outcry against abbreviated bathing-suits is all nonsense." 
" I'm afraid you don't look at the question from a high standpoint." 
'• Lideed, I do. I watch them from the top of the bluff every morning.' 

ers it won't taste so much like bird's-nest soup. Sabbe ? 
What have you on the men-u for tu-dhiy ?" 

" A good missionary," replied the chef. 

" To fudge with a missionary !" hoarsely replied the 
chief " My stummique is too weak for that. Besides, these 
Amerikhans tell us it's hartl to keep a good man down. 
Bring me a shredded hobo. Avaunt !" 

And thev avaunted. 

' I want you to recline on that divan, and don't move. I'll give you a dollar an hoiu'. Do you feel equal to it ?" 
' Equal to it? Say, miss, stick a pin into me an' wake me up, will yer?" 

Mrs. Grl'mpy — "Joel, I do wish you wuzn't ferever borrowin' trouble." 
Joel Grumpy — " \Va-al, tUet don't need ter worry ye. I giner'ly pay back I borrow, don't I ?" 

The Trouble, 

|r^g]\'ERY man is the 
I |p| architect of his own 
fortune," declares 
the human quotation- 

"Quite so," agrees the 
white -bearded philoso- 
pher.' " But I have ob- 
served that he usually at- 
tempts to build it on plans 
suggestive of the fashion- 
magazine hints on 'How 
to construct a neat sub- 
urban home for fifteen 
hundred dollars.' " 

Their Choice. 

DROTHER smokes "The 
^ Turk's Delight," 

Uncle. "Golden R.iy"; 
Hired man finds relief each 
In "Sweet Vii^inny 
Father chews "Carliny 
And mother chews the 
This house is just a case in 
Of tag, tag, tag. 

A Military Necessity in this War. 
IfSBTlHY," demanded the Russian general of an orderly 
I A I who had brought news of an engagement in which 
many were killed and wounded, " did not your 
colonel send to me the names of the poor fellows who suf- 
fered in this disaster ?" 

The orderly saluted. "Sir," 
said he, " he wished to ; but my 
horse was weak from over-riding 
and not strong enough to carry 

"Ah!" said the general. "It 
is well that we have the Trans- 
Siberian railroad. Have them 
dipped to me by freight." 

Jes' Waitin'. • 

JES' a-waitin' fo' de robin. 
Jes' a-watchin' fo' de jay, 
Jes' a-lis'nin' fo' de hummin'- 
Bird dat's loafiu' on de way. 

Gittin' tired ob eatin' 'possum, 

Giltin' tired ob roaslin' yam ; 
Nigh a-found'rin' on de side meat. 

Nebber want ter taste ob ham. 

Moujhly weary wakin' mawnin's 

Wid de shivers an' de shakes ; 
Kind ob achin' fo' spring-feber — 

Wouldn t mind ter see sum snakes. 

Jes' a-waitin' by de hen-house 
Fo' de dominick ter hatch. 
WTien dese am cum de watahmilyun 
" Will be ripenin' in de patch. 

A Wonderful Deterrent. 

Crawford — " There isn't as much talk about the war in 
the far east as might be expected." 

Crabshaw — " That must be because most of us don't 
know how to pronounce the names of the pliices." 



MiST.\H Jackson— " How yo'r son makin' out up in Noo Yawk ? Do it cost moah to' 
vittles up dah ?" 

U.NCLE Sambo — "Free times as much Henry sez dat dere ain't a chicking-coop er a 

»atahmilhi>ii-ii:itch in de whole pi. ice." 


An Old Salt's Observations. 

lOST explanations is no good. I looked in the dictionary to f5nd 
out about fiddler crabs. I found out that they wasn't re'Uy 
fiildler crabs, but gelasimus pugilators. Then I looked up 
gelasimus, an' I found out that it was Greek, an' meant some- 
thin' about laughin'. I also found out that fiddler crabs didn't 
have no posterior pleurobranchije, an' that anteriors of the 
same thing was mostly missin' from 'em. Furthermore, th' 
book said that th' two pairs of pleurobranchise vestigial was 
also wholly absent from th' critters. Now, that was honest, 
wasn't it ? 

There was a sailor who went with me for a number of v'y- 
ages, an' as good a man to work as ever I had on my ship ; 
but he would grumble. One v'yage I'd had her all refitted. I 
tell you, th' Lyddy's fo'c'sle was a palace. There wasn't no work to speak of to do, 
for th' weather was fine. I see he was unhappy, an' guessed th' reason was that 

■ • ' ■^YA^-^1_^K# .A;. 

" He claims to have caught a ten-pound trout." 
" Why, trout don't grow as large as that." 
" They (Jo after you've told the story a few times." 


The rose—" I knew the lily bore 
a bad reputation, but I never thought 
they would tie him to the stake. I sup- 
pose they will set fire to him next." 

there simply wasn't nothin" he could 
kick about. He got real down- 
hearted over it. But one mornin' he 
seemed pretty cheerful an' begun to 
cuss as natural as life. Oh, he was 
a-kickin' to beat the band I I asked 
him what the matter was, an' he 
growled out, " I'm goin' to quit the 
sea. There ain't no use of bein' a 
sailor. Th' seaman 's alius th' un- 
der dog !" "Why.'" says I. "Look 
at th' farmers," says he, " an' see 
what they git from th' government !*' 
" What do they git that you don't 
git ?" I asks. " Rural free delivery 
of mail I" he says ; an' was as hap- 
py as a clam a-groanin' about it for 
th' hull rest of th' v'yage. 

I used to kind 6{ smile when peo- 
ple talked about the dangers that 
they'd passed through on land. 
Didn't seem to me there could be 
no dangers on land. But, then, one 
day I was ashore in San Francisco, 
an' somebody — wasn't that mali- 
cious ? — got me to try to ride a 
buckin' bronco pony. My ! how I 
did pray that God would please let 
me git back to sea, where every^ 
thing is nice an' safe ! 

Tryin' to maintain your reputa- 
tion on a basis of lies an' false 
dealin' is like tryin' to hold your 
pants up with one suspender an' all 
your buttons off. 

n - 


Mrs. Gaddington — "They have postponed the 
wedding four times." 

Mrs. BiFFiNCTox — " WVU. I hope they'll do as 
well with the divorce." 

A Practical Connoisseur. 

Mrs. Cobwigger — " What a beautiful collection of an- 
tiques you have, my dear !" 

Mrs. Parvenue — " It should be. My husband knows 
all about such things, and had them made to order." 

The Happy Future. 

Mrs. Waggles — "Everything we have here in the 
house is so old it is shabby." 

Wangles — " Have a little patience, my dear. \Vhen 
they get a little older they will be antique." 

The Man and the Hour. 

Mrs. Mason-Lodge (waking suddenly) — " Is that you, 
Henry ? What time is it ?" 

Mr.' Mason-Lodge (comfortingly) — " 'Sh, dear! 'S 
mush earlier 'n us'ly is at thish time, I 'sure you." 


Teddie — " Pa, where do we get our milk from ?" 

Father — " From cows, my son." 

Teddie — " And where do cows get their milk from ?" 

Father — " Why, Teddie, where do you get yourj 
tears ?" 

Teddie (after a long, thoughtful pause) — " Do they havel 
to spank cows, papa ?" 


First Colombiaii reiwlutionist — " I tell you, we are. 
putting UD a pretty stiff rebellion this time." 

Second Colombian revolutionist (proudly) — "Stiff? 
Why, I understand there was a magazine article written 
about us last month." 


Sl'M-MER GIRL — " Don't you love the scent of new- 
mown hay?" 

Vacation man — "Oh. passionately — but I'd a lit- 
tle sooner buy it by the ounce at a drug-store !" 




Teacher (of Eng- 
lish) — ■' Michael, 
when I have fin- 
ished you may re- 
peat what I have 
read in your own 
words. ' See the 
cow. Isn't she a 
pretty cow? Can 
the cow run ? Yes, 
the cow can run. 
Can she run as 
fast as the horse ? 
No, shq. cannot run 
as fast as the 
horse.' " 

Future mayor 
(of Boston^ — " Git 

To make tlie latest Style veil, take a plain veil 
and apply corn-plasters. 


Grief is simply joy in the third per- 

It is the listener, not the teller, who 
makes or mars a story. 

A man does not usually think twice 
^before he marries, but it often happens 
^hat he marries twice before he thinks. 
The flight of time is largely a matter 
of temperament. Any practical person 
■may prove this to another person by at- 
tempting to disprove it. 

Mighty is the sovereignty of mind 
■over matter. At a low estimate seven- 
tenths of the world's mental emotion 
springs from a sore toe or its equivalent. 

Mr. Apple— "Oh, I'm a wise guy. \\'hen I 
pack a barrel <if farmers for market I always put 
the big ones on '.op." 

on to de cow. Ain't she a beaut .' Kin de 
cow git a gait on her ? Sure. Kin de cow 
hustle it wid de horse ? Xit — de cow ain't 

in it wid de horse." 


" \Vhat will there be for dessert, mam- 
ma ?" asked little Percy. 

There was to be a "company" dinner, 
and Percy was inquisitive as to the details. 

" There will be nuts, but you must not 
tell during the meal." 

Percy said he wouldn't. 

When dinner was about half over he 
called out to the guest of honor, 

" You don't know what there is for des- 
sert. I'm not allowed to tell, but it's some- 
thing to crack and pick good things out of." 



Ballade of Aspiration. 

nHEY tell of joys most exquisite, 
Of joys that last through 
many a day ; 
But happiness will somehow flit 
Prom every heart and fly away. 
But oh. one thing from May to May 
Would fill my soul with vast delight. 

Just think how all my debts I'd pay 
If I successful books could write ! 

Within my cozy den I'd sit 

And scribble till the twilight gray 
Forced me to rest my Ijrain a bit 

From puzzling plot and bitter fray. 

For greater joys I would not pray 
Than this — for I'm a humble wight. 

And how I would attend the play 
If I successful books could write ! 

At evening, when the lamps were lit, 

I'd hie me forth in garb most gay, 
That I might see if what I'd writ 

Would make a drama. Who will 

I could not the foundation lay 
Of many fortunes far from slight, 

A.nd' through Fame's hall pursue 
my W'ay, 
If I successful books could write ! 

Good people, ye who read my lay, 
Brief is this song that meets your 
A greater task were yours to-day 
If I successful books could write. 

Mrs. Fallon — " Good - marnin', 
Mrs. Toolan ! Do yez t'ink we'll hov 

Mrs. Toolan—" Oi don't know, 
Mrs. Fallon. It depind< greatly pheth- 
er yez do or don't fergit to return th' 
flat-irons yez borrowed av me. Do 
yez moind?" 

Drumming Up an Excuse. 

nHE tattoo artist to the king 
Had always been most dutiful, 
And he could tattoo anything 

In manner that was beautiful. 

One day the king thought of a test 

And called the artist, telling him 
Another artist was the best, 

And he should be excelling him. 

The king produced a rare design 

Upon a tattooed attache 
And said, "Beat that in every line 

Upon the form of Katisha." 

The tattoo artist took a knife 

And gloomily sought suicide. 
" Though I should labor all my life 

I can't beat that tattoo," he sighed. 

The Dawn of Reasoning. 

<< PA," asked the little Wise boy, 
" what is a buttery ?" 

" A buttery, my son," explained 
Mr. Wise, " is where people make 

" Then do they make augers in 
an augury ?" 

Lovely Mary—" What fine boys you have, Mr. Stone ! And each a step above the other. 
Me. Stone—" Yes. I call them my Stone steps." 

An Artistic Revelation. 

LL the things that bob and blow in the blooming mead 
In wild ecstasy I paint, for the scads I need. 
Oft I paint the golden rod on the earthen jug ; 
On the tambourine I paint butterfly and bug. 
As this is the kind of art that ne'er fetches fame, 
On my air}' splashes ne'er do I put my name. 
For I have a level head, and whene'er I whizz 
In the holy name of art it is purely biz. 
While I have an appetite big to satisfy 
With the oyster and the prune and the fleeting pie 
I will paint the sort of stuff that corrals the gold, 
That about the said layout I myself may fold 
And proclaim unto the world e'er I'll be a go — 
I. old Botticelli Mike Titian .\ngelo. 


HOU can't believe all the aphor- 
isms you hear," said Snooper 
to Sumway. 
•■ No ?" 

" The fact that b.inks are invari- 
ably quiet places gives the lie to the 
oft-heard proverb that says ' money 
talks." " 

"THERE'S one good thing about 
bein' to sea. If my ship sinks in 
mid-ocean I don't have to git up th' 
next mornin' an' read all about it in 
th' newspapers. 

Their Spheres of Action. 

AM tlie ship of the desert," proudly says the camel. 
" All my passengers get seasick." 

" I am the trolley-car of the desert," put in the 
ostrich. " I hold everytliing." 

"I guess I must be the automobile of the ocean," 
meekly murmured the smelt. 



i^.ALlLEO had invented the clock. 

" Phat's the use .■'" queried a Florentine. " Begorra : 
Oi know enough to shtop wurk whin the whistle blows." 

Fearing he had perfected a useless article, the inventor 
was plunged into despair. 

Automobile dealer—'' This machine we guarantee can 
be stopped in three lengths, going at full speed." 

Prospective purchaser— " Um-m-m ! Which side up ?" 

Two Sides to It. 

il piSH !" petulantly 

• pouts the pretty 
wife. " From the way 
you object to my bills 
one would think yo i 
regarded a dollar as 
being as big as a cart- 

" Huh !" haughtily 
retorts the huffy hus- 
band. " From the way 
you run up accounts 
one w-ould think you 
regarded dollars as be- 
ing fly-wheels." 

Really Valuable. 

« RUT, my dear, I 
'"' don't under- 
stand !" exclaimed Mrs. 
Gadabout. " You got 
so many lovely things at 
the auction, and yet you 
say you think that cheap 
little kitchen-chair the 
greatest bargain." 

" Yes," replied Mrs. 
Truthly; " that was the 
only thing that I really 

Cobwigoer — " Is your wife of much help to you in your 
literary work ?" 

Penfield — " I should say so ! Wlien I'm writing she 
keeps the liaby quiet." 

she wants a pro- 
tector. Has she ever 
looked in her mirror ? 

Customer — " Have you any brains?" 
Butcher — "No. ma'am ; I'm oud ohf brains alrctty.' 


His A-1 Joy. 

FTER all my day's labor I fly like a snipe 

And lake down from the cupboard my dandy clay pipe, 
And I blow up the smoke-rings in time double quick 
As I puflf and I blow on the killikinick. 

Oh, I see all the flowers that climb on a string, 
And I see all the robins that chirp as they wing, 
And I dream of the barge and the picnic the while 
'Round the pipe-stem I twist my gay bottle-green smile. 

Oh, my pocket's gold-lined and my head wears a crown 
As I swing high my arms while I dance a breakdown ; 
And the secret of all my wild joy as I kick 
May be found in my pipeful of 


sprung a 
leak. You 
have got to 

His Last Words. 

THE murderer was about to be execut- 
ed, and he was asked if he had any- 
thing that he wanted to say. His an- 
swer was in the affirmative, and he 
spoke as follows : 

"I know that it is the custom at a time 
like this for the condemned man to pro- 
test that he is innocent of the crime of 
which he has been declared guilty. I do 
not propose to make any such protest, 
and could not if I would, as you all know 
that I killed the man. Even my able 
lawyers were not able to deny that. You 
all, I have no doubt, know the circum- 
stances — that the night before the kill- 
ing I had a quarrel with the man I 
killed the following day. I did not kill 
him then, as I might have done, but the 
next morning I waylaid him and com- 
mitted the crime for which I am about 
to pay the penalty. The verdict, you 
know, was murder in the first degree, as 
the time intervening between the quarrel 
and the killing was sufficient to let the 
state prove that there was premedi- 
tation. Now, had I killed the man dur- 
ing our quarrel of the night before it 
would have been apparently done with- 
out premeditation, and instead of stand- 
ing here to-day 1 should be serving a 
life sentence in the state-prison, with a 
chance of getting out, as the verdict 
would have undoubtedly been murder 
in the second degree. In view of these 
facts there is one thing that I want to 
say in closing, and that is in the way of 
advice. Never put off until to-morrow 
what you can do to-day." 

don't do no good when you've 

In Style. 

({ VOUR lawn-hose leaks badly," says 
the neighboi leaning over the 
fence and noticing how the water sprays 
out of liny holes about every three inches 
in the rubber tube. 

" Yes," says the man, dodging a 
fresh outburst of dampness ; " but my 
wife thinks this is what we ought to 

" That's funny, isn't it ?" 

" Tolerably funny. But she has been 
reading in the Ladies' Own Journal 
that open-work lawn-hose are abso 
lutely de rigueur." 

UT to sea it don't make no difference 
how old the newspaper is. 

The OWL— " Hoot ! hoot! hoot! hoot!" 

Willie McT-ev. {of Llandudno)— " Hoot awa' ! Ya '11 na' make the braw Skutch 
though ya practice all day." 

accent on American heather. 



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j|HE had a sil- 
very laugh 
and golden 
hair. He had plen- 
ty of brass. He 
knew she was en- 
gaged to another 
man, but believed 
he could copper 
the other fellow's 
bet3. But one day 
he met her on 
the golf-links. Her 
arms were bronzed 
and her teeth 
gleamed as pearls 
when she smiled at 

" Your lips," he 
said, " are like ru- 
bies and your eyes 
are like great dia- 

■'And your 
nerve," she tittered, 
" is like steel, but 
you haven't got enough tin." 

It was then that the iron entered his soul, 
he sighed, " she can never be mine." 


•' Geoi^e. dear, where are you ?" 
'• I'm under this Sund.iy newspaper, trying to find the baby.' 



O, no !" said 
the smging- 
teacher who 
was instructing the 
class of Kentuck- 
ians ; " this will not 
do. You must let 
your voices blend. 
Get more of a mel- 
low effect. Each of 
you seems to strike 
out on his own line, 
according to his own 
■ " Wa-al, c u n - 
nel," said the first 
basso, " Ah doan' 
b'lieve yo' kin git 
any blend hyuh. 
Half th' boys has 
been drinkin' ry-e 
an' th' otheh half 
drinkin' bouhbon, 
an' they woan' 

Alas !" 

"HE Lord created woman, but you would never guess 
it from the evidence of the fashion-plate. 

Had Heard Him. 

(( I BELIEVE," said the minister, " that it would be a 
good idea to have an ' S. R. O.' sign for our church, 
that we might use on occasion." 

" Yes," agreed the carping parishioner ; " I suppose it 
would mean • sleeping room only.' " 


Cholly — •' Now. see here. You lay a bet on Bon Ton and you'll pull out good money." 
Fekdy — '• Oi course. II I pulled uut bad money the boijkie wouldn't take it." 

What the Baby Thought. 

pdngwj »?^^rfaY^ ^P °f f^" a"d '°"g 

>«l (Ai_) ; .^j; H^iB^ ) o*^ breath, the infant 
Up ^^1' 'i'jVA "^^Vj. lay upon the couch. 

* Over it bent the moth- 

er, who had been given every advantage in musical 
training. m fact, until she spoiled her future by 
marrying well, she had cherished vague dreams of 
enthralling thousands by the magic of her voice. 

The baby howled for some reason or other. May- 
be it howled for no reason at all. They usually do. 

" Bless its little heart !" whispered the mother. 
" I will sing it to sleep." 

She lifted up her voice in Sleybach's arrangement 
of Chogner's fifth lullaby. 

" Sle-e-e-p, sle-e-e-p, my little one, 
My little one. my little one ! 
Ah-h-h ! Ah-ah-ah-a-a-a-a-h ! Tr-r-r-r-r-r-trill-I-l ! 
Slee-ee-eep ! Slec-ee-eep !" 

Wonderingly the infant blinked at her. Encour- 
aged by its show of interest, she bent over it again. 
The child squalled louder than ever. She resumed 

'• Now the night — now-w-w the n-i-i-i-ight has come. 
Sle-e-e-e-e-e-e-ep ! Sle-e-e-e-e-e-ep ! 
Closevoureyesingent!eslumber-r-r-r-r-r-r-r ! 


But now the infant was redoubling its shrieks. 
Convinced that something terrible was ailing it, the 


She squeezes in her waist until 

The other girls seem on the shelf 

She thinks that she is dressed to kill, 
While merely dressed to kill herself. 


Cholly — " Before I had sat in the game ten minutes I 
had lost fifteen dollars ; tlien my luck began to change." 

Fred — •' Of course !" 

Cholly — "Yes; and in the next two hours I only lost 
seven dollars and a quarter, bah Jove !" _^_, 

distracted mother rushed from the room to seek aid. The 
infant ceased its weeping, looked about for her, but did not 
discover her. 

"Gee !" it murmured to itself. "She must have had a pin 
sticking her pretty bad." 

When the mother, accompanied by the papa and the maternal 
grandmother and tne nurse, hurried to the room they found the 
chdd peacefully slumbering. 

Strike Season. 

THE laborers were standing en masse about the huge rostrum 
erected tor the present occasion. On the platform, speaking 
with the emphasis of a full-blown orator and with the allegorical 
gesticulations of a Demosthenes, was the champion of labor 

"Strike ! strike ! strike !" he shouted, banging his fist on the 
rail confronting him. " Strike ! strike ! strike !" he shrieked at 
the end of each platitude. 

" No doubt he was at one time in congress," said a smooth- 
faced individual to the man standing beside him. 

"Congress nuttin' !" said the tough one in reply. " Dat feller 
used ter be a baseball umpire." 


.I/r. Newrocks — " What sort of folks are the Bluebloods next 
door, Mariah ?" 

Mrs. Newrocks (patronizingly) — " Pleasant ; but they must 
be frightfully hard up. They haven't got any mechanical attach- 
ment for their piano and have to play it by hand." 

JoXES — '• How much do you want for that dog ?" 

Colored man — "Does yo' t'inh fo'teen cents would be too much, bo^s?" 
Jones — -'Yes. Attything would be too much if you want fourteen cents for him.' 

Bacillus and the Bugaboos. 

D ACILLUS had been discovered and sent out into the 
work! on his mission of misery. 

He loitered by the way and his discoverer waxed ex- 
ceeding wroth and said, 

" Why do you not get busy, oh. Bacillus, anil fill the 
world with bugaboos ?" 

Bacillus wept tears of typlioid and replied in a malarious 

" Behold, I am alone and there 
is no one to help me. I need an 

Then the discoverer found 
Microbe and sent him forth to 
the help of Bacillus. 

The twain soon found Germ, 
and the three became partners. 

Bugbears, bugaboos and 
scares in thousands were planted 
all over the world and the dis- 
coverer was wroth no more. 

But a lot of people were al- 
most frightened to death nearly 
every day. 

Tempera Mutantur. 

(( VOU used to say," declared 
the angry wife, "that I was 
all the world to you." 

" That," sneered the brutal hus- 
band, " was before you grew so 

And he saw stars before he 
could escape from her orbit. 


THOUGH Crusoe on the island 

* Our fancy may appall, 

The berry in the shortcake 

Is loneliest of all. 

The Wisdom of the Serpent. 

Ex'e — "But I don't like apples, 
any way." 

The serpent — " That doesn't 
matter. They are excellent for 
the complexion." 

Eve — " Indeed ! Well, per- 
haps I'll try it." 


(< VOUR aunt is shut up in an asylum, isn't she ?" 

•' Well, she is and she isn't. She is in there all 
right enough, but they can't stop her talking." 

The professor — " We owe a great deal to chemistry." 
Friend — " Yes, indeed. To chemistry, for instance, 
we owe a great many of our blondes." 

One Advantage. 

First deaf- mute (making 
signs) — " Did your wife complain 
because you stayed out until 
alter midnight ?" 
. Second deaf-mute (chuckling) 
— " Did she ? You should have 
seen her ! But when it began to 
get monotonous 1 just turned out 
the light." 

Ethel — " I don't see how you can tell a wild duck from a tame one." 
Cholly — " Dead easy. If you can get near enough to shoot him he's a tame one.' 


Cosmopolites who haply go But since they do not bring you back, 

As far as distant Tokio, Oli. bit of female bric-a-brac. 

Say you don't need to try to please, We wish you — widow, maid or wife — ' 

You fascinate with (Japan) ease. y\t home a happy, Jappy life. 


Common Fourth- 

of-July Scene. 

<' ll/HO is thSt heavy-set gentle- 

man who is walking up the 

street alone, carrying his heavy 


? He seems to be a distta- 


•• What in the deuce ails Scribble? He used to be the noisiest man in the place ; now 
he never talks above a whisper, and tiptoes around like a kitten." 
"Why, haven't you heard? 

Scribble has a baby up at his liouse." 

guished man, and also seems in 
doubt as to where he wants to go." 

The speaker was a visitor to 
Anyoletown on the fourth of July. 

" Who — that man over there ?" 
asked the citizen. "' Why, that's 
the honorable George B. HoUeran, 
the eloquent orator. The town 's 
payin' him ten dollars an' expenses 
to deliver the oration this after- 

" And that other man — that lit- 
tle fellow with the curly hair, who 
is surrounded by such a crowd — 
w^ho is he ? Everybody seems to 
want to carry his grip for him and 
shake hands with him. Is he a 
speaker, also ?" 

" Nope. That's Senyore Al- 
phozzo de Ga?zaggeroo, the cele- 
brated tight-ropist an' hair-raiser- 
ist. We pay him two hundred dol- 
lars to walk a rope to-night with a 
bunch o' fireworks tied to each foot 
an' a ring o' Roman candles an' 
sky-rockets on liis head," 

A Bit of Color. 

AN ARTIST took his colors 
To paint a modern youth 
Who thought the world all beauty 
And thought all language truth. 

He got his canvas ready 

To hold the pleasing scene, 

Then carefully discarded 

Each pigment save the green. 


In Old Kentucky. 

Thirsty Mtirpliy — "Please, 
colonel, gimme a dime. Honest, 
I hain't had a drink fer t'ree days." 

Colonel Nosepaint (deeply 
moved) — "My poo' man! heah's 
the money ; but don't go and 
squandah it fo' food." 

A Costly Error. 

First commuter — " Oh, hang it 
all !" 

Second commuter — " What's the 
matter ?" 

First commuter (bitterly) — "Let 
the conductor punch my fifty-serv- 
ant intelligence-office ticket in- 
stead of m^y commutation." 

- >cV 

Dolly — "I like the bathing at this resort.' 
Reggie — " Why?" 
Dolly — " The ocean is so swell." 

A Piscatorial Enthusiast. 

I YANK from the brooklet with 

' verve and with vim. 

The finest of fishes that wriggle 

and swim — 
The perch and the sunfish, the 

chub and the trout, 
Within my deep basket are flop- 
ping about. 

From sunrise to sunset I fish, all 

With rapture that's finer than 

gold, don't you know ; 
Yea, finer it is than their fizz in 

the pan, 
That's heard by the ears of my 

old inner man. 

Oh. Eden 's. full often I ia.ncy 
and wish, 
A place where I'll have naught to do but to fish 
Through all the bright day with my bent pin and cork 
And think I'm up here in old Horseheads, New York. 



Mrs. Crawford — "Has your 
son finished his theological stud- 
ies ?" 

Mrs. Crabshaiv — " Oh, yes ; 
but in order to get a fashionable 
call he finds it necessary to take 
a post-graduate course in golf." 

A Problem. 

Penelope — " I suppose you are 
going to have an automobile boat." 

Constance — " Yes. I am won- 
dering which I should have em- 
broidered on the sleeve — an an- 
chor or a monkev-wrencli." 

li/HEN you see some folks a- 
comin', pass the " good morn- 
in' " an' keep a-steppin'. 


^.Terrible Possibility. 

VES," said the man from' 

Michigan, " we are going to- 

appeal to congress to pass more 

stringent laws against the wasteful 

destruction of timber-land." 

"Lumber getting scarce up 
there?" asked the man from 

" Lumber?" repeated the Michi- 
gander. "\Vhat do we care about 
lumber ? We've got to protect 
the breakfast-food industry, have- 
n't we ? And if the sawdust gives 
out where will we be ?" 

Cholly^" Darling, say that you will be mine! 
I worship you ! To me you are as a goddess 

TRUTH is occasionally, though 
not frequently, stranger than 

war- rumors. 




a pedestal." 


Foolish Jap. 

THE Japanese offi- 
cer was being 

"If you have any 
excuse to offer for 
allowing your com- 
mand to be cap- 
tured," said the gen- 
eral, " I will hear it 


The man on trial 
shook his head 

"I ha vc none, 
sir," he replied. '■ It 
was my own fault 
entirely. We had 
captured a Russian 
spy, and before 
we started to re- 
treat from our dangerous position I asked him to tell 
me his given name. Ere he had finished the enemy sur- 
rounded us." 

The Reply Couneous. 

ti VOU have the temper of a bear," weeps the young 
wife when her husband criticises her biscuits. 

" Weil, maybe if I had the digestion of an ostrich I 
shouldn't have that kind of a temper," he e.xplains. 

Still, she is not mollified. 

Rescler — " Hold on a bit ! I may never get a chance like this again." 

A Diagnosis. 

«ili/HAT do you 
suppose is the 
trouble with those 
American colonies 
of mine?" asked 
George III. while 
his physician was 
looking at the gouty 

" I should say," 
remarked the physi- 
cian gravely, " that, 
from all the symp- 
toms, the colonies 
have become affect- 
ed with independen- 
citis, and that is a 
hard trouble to 

events proved that the physician was correct, but it re- 
quired a great many operations to relieve King George. 

The Old Question. 

CHADRACH, Meshach and Abed-nego had spent the 
night in the fiery furnace. 

" Good-morning," they remarked when the doors were 
opened. " Is it hot enough for you ?" 

With a savage, baffled yell, their persecutors fled the 


Cholly {nfrv0us/y) — •• But won't this canoe turn bottom-side up?" 

Boatman (<■*<•«/«//>■)—•• Possibly ; but it 's steadier bottom-side up than any other way, you know.' 


v: ;i- ^ 

5 » a 

a. T < 

c -^ > 

F - 2 

T 5 

? o 


As to Nonsense Verse. 

T was a plodding poet-man. 
\\ ho wrote some iionseii^t- 
\'erse — 

The siirt l)iat frabbled readers 
With curdlous. crushful curse. 

He sang about a bhjojus jay 
Whicli dimmed a bushy 
And thus gave him a recksome 
To blendifv witli month. 

He gleedled of the jelly-tree 
Where foodled muggers wink. 

And tlumght up hip]5<>d(j(i]iu- 
Till he ran out of ink. 

He sent it by tlie whizzous mail. 
With stampness for retiu-n. 

It reached a writhous editor. 
Who swore a dingful durn. 

And this is why the glinking sun 
Retains its goldsome glint — 

The bugsome blob of nonsense 
Was never put in print. 

Jones ?" 


\(ni know, you rascals, that 1 am his honor, Judge 

den, dis is er genuine case uv honor among t'ieves. 

The Last Straw. 

|HERE were some things 
about the king which 
his subjects did not 
like. For instance, he was an 
inveterate punster. All pun- 
sters are inveterate ; but as 
folks have to laugh at a king s 
puns, he is bound to be invet- 
erater, and his puns inverte- 
brater, than any otliers. But, 
nevertheless, the people were 
willing to put up with a few 
little foibles. 

" Oh, king," said the 
chief of a large deputaticn 
of citizens, " may your reign 
be one long era of sunshine !" 

" What !" shouted the 
king. " Won't it be funny to 
have a long reign and not an 
umljrella raised .'" 

It was then that the leader 
of the hoi polloi gave the sig- 
nal to sack the palace and 
bag the king. Served him 
rioht, too. 

Kkf.I'ER (of i/isane-asy/iim) — " Thut patient thinks lie is an automobile." 
Visitor — " What caused his insanity?" 
KEEfER — " He fell off a loof and broke both legs, Ixjth arms, ten ribs, his skull and jaw, and injured himself internally." 

The Peels. 

PHBtIITH majestic grace 
IVj the stately ship 
cleft her way 
through the fog. All, in- 
deed, was light and hap- 
piness aboard. Siuhlenly 
peel after peel rent the 
air. Swiftly a tug came 
to her side and hailed. 

" Do you need assist- 
ance ?" asked the cap- 
tain of the tug. 

" No," answered the 
captain of tlie steamer. 
" It's only these country 
e.xcursionisls throwing 
their banana-peels over- 


An "L" Incident. 

Y JOVE!" said 
the e.xcited pas- 
senger, "there's 
a vacant seat in the 
next car." And jump- 
ing to his feet, he would 
have dashed madly 
forward had not his 
friend grasped his 

" What's the matter ? 
Haven't we seats al- 
ready ?" 

" So we have !" said 
the first passenger, sink- 
ing back. " Upon my 
word, it's so unusual I 
didn't realize it." 



Muriel — •• Nuxt summer, dear, you will take a long journey abroad aiiJ become engaged to a tall, fair man with heaiw of 

MlLLlCENT — ■■ Fine ! That will just suit me to a t." 

Muriel — •■ But the next card says that a dark man will come along and cross your t." 


A Slight Correc- 
tion in Title. 

[r=«EFORE they were 
I W married," says the 

knowing one, " he 

called her the angel of 
his life." 

■■ Well ?" asked the 

" Now he says she is the angle of his life." 

" And why ?" 

" Says she brought him up with a short turn." 

Table d'HSte, Fifty Cents. 

^K^^/;«a—" What's the matter, Edmund— swallowed some, 
thing the wrong way ?" 

Edmund (hastily)— " No ; swallowed the wrong thmg the 

right way." 

Paradoxical, But True. 

H T\0 PECKHAM and his wife get on well together ?" 
*-' •■ Oh, yes ; they get on very well together 
they are apart." 

LET I * » 
- I) 1 



Mrs. Newlywed— " How dare you object to 
my bills? Papa pays them all." 

Mr. Newlywed— " Yes, hang it! But 1 
haven't the nerve to ask him to pay any of mine 
while you are touching him up all the time." 

Diplococcus Lanceolotus. 

(Some doctors say that a " cold" has nothing to do with cold 
itsell ; it is merely an attack ol certain micro-organisms.-iJ--. 

SINCE modern doctors now declare 
We have no "colds "—that vicious air 
Is that which pains our systems so— 
'Tis well tills latest truth to know : 
That vicious air obtains its sway 
Through millions of bacteri-a. 

These diplococcus lanceo- 

Lotus (small imps) are now " the go." 

For half the folks you chance to meet 

Upon the cars and in the street 

Have them quite badly ; but we "re told 

They are just suffering from a -'cold." 

The pathogenic critics say 

You cannot name the thing this way — 

That it's much wiser to be sure 

Of the right num-en-cla-ture, 

Which, bv its tortuous length, explains 

Much better all these aches and pains. 

So weather cold and weather hot 
Are blameless, and should be forgot. 
What we must fight and drive away 
Are those absurd bacteri-a 
Till they are as a story told — 
And no one henceforth has a '-cold." 

Should some one ask what harms us so, 

Say diplococcus lanceo- 

Ixitus— and more if there be time. 

For this long word, which will not rhyme. 

Ought to drive questioners away, 

And even kill bacteri-a. 

War on the Mosquito. 

(A largely-attended meeting was held this afternoon at the rooms of the board 
of trade and transportation, tlie object of which was to devise ways and means for 
the extermination of tlie mosquito.— £v^nin^ Sun.} 

'fZ^YM ^Ta*< l*w^ 


Alice — " I thought you were going to marry Miss 
Gruet ?" 

Algy — ■•Well, 1 guess not. I pro]iosed to her by 
letter and she accepted me on a postal-card." 

Alice — " She's just the girl you want. You can 
bet she'll be careful of your money." 

Filled All Requirements. 

HAVE here," said the poor inventor, " an arti- 
ficial egg." 
The purse-proud capitalist waved him away. 
" Nope," growled the capitalist ; " there's 
nothing to it. Couldn't find a market for 'em." 

•' But, sir," pleaded the poor inventor, " by a secret 
process I have been able to give these eggs the consist- 
ency and flavor of the cold-storage egg of commerce." 

That afternoon the agreement was drawn up and 
the poor inventor went home with his little old ten mil- 
lions in stock in his inside pocket. 

The trick is not to invent a substitute for what the 
public wants, but to get up an imitation of what the 
public is used to. 


j"^^^HLE.-\K January — and each Jersey dune 
I 9_J With winter's crystal fretwork's glittering o'er. 

I ^ J And sad-eyed residents along the shore 

^~^^*l With fear look forward to the month of June, 
When the mosquito comes witli siren tune 
To illustrate phlebotomy once more. 
And draw full many a quart of native gore 
With fell intent beneath the gibbous moon. 
Onward, brave soldiers ! Pour the kerosene 
In hogsheads o'er the festive swamp until. 

'Mid trumpets' blare, you 've finished up the biz. 
Stamp out the lychnobite that mars the scene. 
And when the job is done present your bill 
Before the deadly skeeter puts in his. 

Mabel — " Were you married in haste?" 
Tom— "No. Philadelphia." 



A Scrap of History. 

HE New Zealamler was sketching the ruins of St. 
Paul's when a sturdy Briton approached. 
" Pegging your pardon, sir," saiil the latter, "do 
vou appen to know 'ow this 'appened ?" 

■■ Don't you know ?" queried the New Zealander in 
some surprise. 

" No, sir. The censorship is very strict just now, and 
ot' course all loyal subjects of his majesty are willing to 
wait patiently until the news leaks out ; but I tliought as 
'ow you might 'ave 'eard something." 

The New Zealander imparted the desired information. 


The Other Side of It. 

HE amateur reformer is apparently much e.xercised. 
" Enough money," he says, " is spent in this 
country annually for fireworks to feed and clothe 
half the population of the -Soudan." 

" Yes," answers a smoke-stained person who is holding 
some lighted punk in his hand ; " and if we didn't send so 
much money over there to buy clothes and breakfast-food 
for those savages we could have two glorious Eourths 
every year." 

EN who are born great are not always great at 
the finish. 



Mrs. YovNGHUB — " He hasn't taken his wife anywhere since they were married." 
Mr. Yoi'NciHl'B — "No. Since he took her for belter or worse he seems to think he has taken her encnigh." 


Almost a Winner. 

.1) he win a prize in the 
matrimonial niarl<et ?" 
"Well, hardly. I think he 
got honorable mention." 



IN one place the audience 
simply raved over the per- 
formance," says Horatio Ham- 
latter, the eminent tragedian. 

" Yes," comments lago Denok- 
ker, the rival tragedian ; " I saw 
in some paper that you hati ap- 
peared in a charity performance 
at an insane-asylum." 

THE good fish that are in the sea 

are particular about the bait i 
with which they are to be caught. ^^_ 

Nkwlvweu (/r(;«(//j') — "Our baby is so broad- 
minded — so liberal in his views !" 

Oletimer (astonishfii) — -'L- liberal, broad- 
) minded?" 

:' Newlywed — "Oh, very. Why, he allows me 
and Jane to do almost as we please." 

All Business. 

(( r\0 you really think that he is in earnest 
with his courtship ?" 
" Certainly. He offered to deposit a certi- 
fied cheque with his proposal." 

When He Walked. 

De Style — " I suppose you've seen a great 
many footlights in your time ?" 

Old aclor — " Yes ; and a great many he,i(i- 
lig-hts, too." 

I. This is our small, delicate neighbor, after 
being blown up by a subway explosion and run 
over by an automobile, at his office next morn- 
ing, hustling as usual. 

According to the Century. 

11* V brother John a dairy keeps. 

' • In emulating Samuel Pepys. 

I tell him, though he shirks and skips, 

If he would make a hit like Pepys, 

Inevitably the first step is 

To have a name like Mr. Pepys. 

It Sometimes Happens. 

LIOW often, on the gladsome Fourth, 
' ' We take the train to mount or sea, 
Intent upon enjoying all 

The celebrating there can be — 
And later find the folks at home 

Had a much better time than we. 

2. And this is our big, healthy neighbor. 
and took to his bed for a month. 

Pinched his finger in the jamb of a door 


Mad a Plenty. 

fASSUH," said Unc' Mose ; " 'Lije Hossfut 
done got smaht down ter de 'traded 
meetin' las' night, an' dey p'intedly 'jected 
'im f'um de chu'ch — dat what dey do." 

" Not old Deacon 'Lije ?" says the 

" Yassuh ; ol' Deacon 'Lije Hossfut — 

" Why, I thought he was one of the 
pillars of the church." 

" Reckon he war, but he ain't no mo'." 
" That must have been a great take-down for him. 
Wasn't he put out a great deal over it ?" 

" No, suh ; not er great deal. Des' once seemed ter 
sa'sfy 'im." 

Two Excellent Subterfuges. 

*' WHAT excuse," we ask of our erring friend ; " what 
e.vcuse can you have tor drinking ? It seems to 
us that no man could ever find a sufificient reason for im- 
bibing the vile stuff." 

He smiles knowingly. 

" I have two good excuses," he explains, " and am so 
fortunate that one of them is always within my reach. In 
the daytime I play golf and at night I have stomach-ache." 

Hard To Collect. 

<<THE world owes me a living," said 
" I suppose so," said the old c 
not so fortunate as to be a preferred creditor.' 

the young man. 

" Try this acid on it and see if it's gold." 
" Acid nothing ! Give me a match — 1 think it's coal.'' 

I2>®S> aSBOKlff- 


The vulture—" What's that stuck in your throat?" 
The tiger — " My last meal had a wooden leg, darn him !" 


His Idea of It. 

T the theatre the ladies are discussing the attire 
of those about them, as usual. By and by their 
attention is attracted to a lady who is the cen- 
tral figure of a box-party. 
" Isn't she stunning ?" murmurs one of the fair ones. 
" She is dressed in mauve satin, is she not ?" 

" No, no !" corrects another of the ladies ; " it is a 
pearl-gray satin." 
"Now," laughs 
another of them. 
" let us leave it 
to the professor 
here. What has 
he to say of it ? 
What is she 
dressed in, pro- 
fessor ?" 

Here the pro- 
fessor, who has 
been studying the 
sights and scenes 
with all the inter- 
est of a savant, 
takes a casual 
glance at the 
object of the dis- 
cussion and ven- 
tures, "As nearly 
as I can judge 
from here, she is 
dressed in puris 

Whereat they 
laugh, thinking 
he refers to peau 
de soie, or some 
such fabric, and 
has merely made 
one of the numer- 
ous blunders 
which are com- 
mon to the un- 
tutored man. 

What Is Need- 

owner of the 
at the wreck, from 
which the chauf- 
feur is crawling, 
a look of apology mingling with the mud on his face. 

" Didn't I tell you not to try to make that turn at full 
speed ?" asks the owner. " If I hadn't jumped in time I 
might have been killed." 

" But, sir," protests the chauffeur, " I thought " 

" Don't bother to tell me what you thought !" orders the 
angry man. " I should think a person who claims to be 
able to run an autn would have a little horseless sense." 



" I told papa yoiir poems were the children of your brain." 

" What did he say?" 

" Said they were bad enough to put in the reform-school." 

The Reai Thing, 

E listen in rapt attention while the successful 
novelist tells of his manner and method of 
composition. Especially are we interested m 
his exposition of the way in which his charac- 
ters assume shape and form in his mind until at last 
they becoii.e living, breathing entities to him, and he 
feels a deej. personal interest m their actions. 

" And so all 
these kings and 
queens and 
princes and prin- 
cesses of your 
stories are real 
people to you ?" 
we murmur, with 
something of awe 
in our tone. 

" Ce rtainly," 
he responds. 
" To an author 
all royalties are 
the real thing." 


Sniff'—" I see 
that an ancient 
poem, supposed 
to have been 
written by Ho- 
mer, has just 
come to light." 

Shawe — " Ah, 
he had sent it to 
some magazine 
that paid on pub- 
lication, I sup- 

The Thought- 
ful Employer. 
«JVOW, John," 
said the 

thoughtful e m - 
plover to the as- 
tute youth whom 
he had 'engaged 
as office-boy and 
general utility 
person, " while 
you are resting 
from the labor of 
sweeping out the 

office you might take the rugs out into the area-way and 

beat the dust from them." 

" But I am not tired, sir," explained the new boy. " I 

really do not feel it necessary to take a rest." 

" All right," responded the thoughtful employer. " You 

may take out the rugs and beat, them until you are tired, 

and by that time I will have thought of something elsQ 

you may do while you are resting^" 


The Wrong Simile. 

TE KNEELS at the 
feet of the heiress. 
Now, in order 
to make plain what is to 
follow, let us state that 
the heiress weiglis three 
hundred pounds. True 
love, however, we will 
concede, for the sake of 
argument, knows no 
waist-lines. And no wo- 
man is ever so fat as her 
fortune. Therefore, to 
proceed, messieurs. 

He kneels, as we have 
previously said, at the 
feet of the heiress. 

'* You are all the 
world to me !" he ex- 

"What?" she pants. 
" You wretch ! are you 
aware of the fact that 
the equator is the largest 
diameter of the world ?" 

In vain does he argue that the equator is an imaginary 
line. This only makes it worse. 

Metaphorically, she sits down on him ; metaphorically, 
he is crushed. 


Mart.^ — " Will you love me all your life, darling ?" 
TmuiAS — '• Dearest. I'll love you all my nine lives." 

A Bit Personal. 

OWN !" shrieked 
the centre rush. 
The opposing 
player, who had been 
flung to theearth, writhed 
violently; but the centre- 
rush only pushed his 
hand the more firmly in- 
to the face of the foe and 
cried exultantly, 
" Down !" 

Here the opponent 
wriggled from beneath 
and caught the centre 
rush a terrific left-hander 
on the chin that sent 
him to the grass and 
kept him there for the 
count. The referee, the 
players, the reserve play- 
ers, and the police ran to 
the spot and clamored 
loudly for an explana- 
tion, saying it had 
been agreed that there 
was be no rowdyism in the game. 

" I don't care !" excitedly said the offender. "When a 
man rubs his hand over my chin and yells ' down,' after 1 
have been shaving for two whole months, it makes me mad." 

A WOMAN flatters with her eyes ; a man with his tongue. SOCIETY is human nature on dress-parade. 



"My idea of business is to put all your eggs in one basket and watch that basket." 
-" My idea is to put all your eggs in one incubator and heat that incubator." 

Literary Perplexities. 

pHE plodding author gazes 
disconsolately at the heap 
of manuscript before him. 
" Is it not yet finished ?" 
we ask. " It does not seem 
long since you told us you 
were at work on the book 
of the century. 

" Oh," he answers, " this 
is another story entirely. I 
did not finish the book of 
the century." 

•• So ? Why not ?" 
" Why, when I was half-way through writ- 
ing it some fellow published the book of the 
decade. Before that had touched the high- 
water mark of sales the book of the decade 


"It says here, Samanthy, thet Reverend Too- 
good was a saloon passenger on the Majestic. Heals 
all liiiw them preachers do cut ii[> when they git 
away from lium." 

A Sordid Soul. 

S Samson Huskiman going to coach 


your football team this season ?" 
asks the visitor of the quarter-back. 
" Samson Huskiinan ? Don't re- 
peat tiiat name on the campus." 

" Why, have you heard anything wrong 


" Wrong ? Listen. Instead of playing 
with the boys this year, what do you suppose 
he is going to do .'" 

" Going into professional athletics ?" 
" Worse — infinitely worse ! He has ac- 
cepted the offer of a thousand dollars a week 
as demonstrator for a hair-tonic." 

1. BiNO — ■' Do you think you can make it ?" 
Bang—" If I do it'll be 

was in the half-page advertisements. No 
sooner was the book of the decade on the 
counters than the book of the year was an- 
nounced. It was eclipsed by the book bf the 
month, and that died before the onward rush 
of the book of the week, and that sank into 
oblivion under the irrepressible rush of the 
book of the day, which was hurled into the 
limbo of forgotten things by the arrival of the 
book of the hour." He resumes shaking his 
head sadly. 

" And," we venture, " is this work you 
are now engaged upon to be the book of the 
minute ?" 

" I had hoped so," he tells us ; "I had 
hoped so. But who can say ? Maybe before 
I have reached the last page of the manuscript 
literature will have struck a split-second gait." 

-an accident." 















The king — "Truly, retainer, thou hast a goodly wit 
Chamberluiii, for that merry crack 

-I will have him knighted.- 


-By my halidom I've changed my mind !" 



The fly — '• Run, boys, run ! There's one of those volcanoes just breaking out' 

It Got Twisted. 

HE visitor from 
Kansas gazes in- 
tently at the spi- 
ral fire-escape which 
winds its way clown the 
rear of the fifteen-story 

" By jox !" he says, 
"that must have been a 
d.irned long ladder a- 
fore the cyclone hit it." 

A Good Character. 

T/!e /cuius — " What 
sort of a |)erson is Mrs. 
Newcome, Mr. Hopper?" 

T/u- general dealer — 
" She's a perfect lady — 
doesn't know one brand 
o' goods from another," 

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Old lady — " Little boy, can you direct me toDacey's?" 

Little boy — " Yes'm ; you walk right up this street till 
you come to a big drug-store." 

Old lady— "Well ?" 

Little bov — '" Well, then you go inside and ask some 
of the clerks and they'll tell you " 


Never bet your money early in the campaign. You 
may have a chance of losing it at better odds. 

Never work for a candidate with a poor memory. 

Never argue politics with a fool unless you're a fool 
yourself. It takes a fool to vanquish a fool. 

Never write letters during the campaign. Document- 
ary evidence is hard to lie down. .„..,„.. ..^. „ ^ .„ 

Never run lor office unless your character will stand the smile the other night and she took it in champagne." 
witness-box test. 

Never vote for a candidate who speaks involved sen- Niver judge a man boy his looks, me b'y ; judge him boy 

tences. He is sure to have an involved head. th' 'ooks av his woman. 

5-r ftHUwi., 

Jayson — " That girl's smile haunts me still." 
Payson — " Her smile haunts me too. I asked her to have a 



Jim Jonsing, aged six, and the turkeys. 

Jim Jonsing and the turkeys ten years later 




One Way To Do It. 

<( "THE problem is this," 
said the teacher. " I 
have fifteen apples, which I 
am to divide among twelve 
boys. Now, how shall I 
distribute the apples ?" 

After considerable chew- 
ing of pencils and scratch- 
ing of paper the little Wise 
I) o y raised his hand. 
" Well, Johnny ?" 

"You should giveoneap- 
ple to three-fifths of a boy." 

War as It May Be. 

(Extract from "With Neither Side 
in the Late War."} 

(( IT was in the thickest of 
the battle when the 
captain's hoarse order rang 
out, ' Repel boarders !' 

" Instantly, with that 
trained precision tound in 
no other navy, each sailor 
advanced and offered the 
enemy a plate of hash." 

Domestic Tribulations at the Zoo. 

Mrs. Monkey — " I wish you'd drop in and see our 
milkman, Charlie, and give him a good calling down." 
Mr. Monkey — " Why, what's the matter now ?" 
Mrs. Monkey — " I told him to leave three cocoanuts 
this morning, and he only left two, and one of them was 
only half full." 


DETWEEN the acts, like 
^^ other men. 

He stole away a while, 
And when he came to her 

A Mining Boom. 

t( Z^* REAT activity in Idunno mining stock to-day !" 
" You don't say so !" 

" Ye-ah. Bill Sykes took forty thousand shares and 
eight dollars cash for that horse he was askin' twenty dol- 
lars for yesterday." 

" Well, he made eight dollars on the deal, any way." 

His face betrayed 


" No one will know," he softly 
(A foolish thing to say) ; 
" For every time you turn )uur 
It takes my breath 

A Polite Reply. 

(( pvON'T you think Miss 
Squairface ought to 
take more beauty-sleeps ?" 
asked the dearest friend of 
Miss Squairface. 

" Well," answered the 
young man who was trying 
to make an impression on 
the dearest friend, "possibly 
she suffers from insomnia." 

"My ! what a peculiar style of riding !" 
" Ya-as ; I s'pose it does seem peculiali 
ter people wot's neber rid enny ob dese razor- 
back hosses." 

A Spirited 


irmlOUR eyes," stam- 
I H mered the wooer, 
" are intoxicating 
to me." 

The heartless damsel 
laughed roguishly at this. 

" For your own good," 
she hinted, " I should 
advise you to sign the 

It took some moments 
for hit" to grasp the idea 
that tliis was his congd ; 
then, resenting her chaff- 
ing, he arose from his 
knees and observed, 

" Pardon me, but you 
interrupted my remark. I 
was about to say that 
your eyes are intoxicat- 
mg because they have a 
wry look." 

The Heroine. 

IN the drama of existence. 
Should you take a 
searching look, 
You will find the leading lady 
Very often is the cook. 

A Public Benefactor. 

H' ES, I took out an 

' Uncle Tom's Cab- 
in ' company last 
season and played to 
packed houses every- 

" Impossible ! With 
that old chestnut ?" 

" But I did it just the 

" How did you work 

" Gave 'em a produc- 
tion which guaranteed 
absolutely no Topsys, 
Lawyer Markses or 
bloodhounds. This sea- 
son I'm going to elaborate 
it, leaving out Uncle Tom 
and little Eva, and filling 
.up with a ballet and some 
Dutch comedians andone 
or two popular songs." 

Dorothy — " Say, auntie, is religion something to wear?" 
AUiNT Julia — •' My dear, why do you ask such foolish questions?" 
Dorothy — " 'Cause papa said you used your religion for a cloak.' 

quite heroic. 
But we'd have less cause 
to grieve 
Had lie only shot the apple 
From the head of Moth- 
er Eve. 

Photographer — " If 5'ou have a dozen in this style, madam, we present you with an oil-painting enlargement like 

this — unframed." 

Madam — " Yes ; but it will cost considerable to have it firamed." 

Photographer — " Ah ! but if you take a second dozen we present you with a frame." 

Madam — " Yes ; but in the house I occupy at present I would not have room for it, and I wouldn't know what to 

do with a third dozen." 







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Eastern sportsman—" Is there any danger of a man g -tting shot out here by mistake for a deer?" 
Bronco Bill—" Why, tenderfnr.t. how you talk ! No. Who ever heerd of a deer gettin' drunk an' sassy 
in a saloon ?" 

Reverend Si Slopper's 

DAR will be a quiltin' pahtj' 
At Miss Yokum's Mond'y 
Fo' terstahtde 'scripshunpapah 
Fo' de pastah's ycahly fight. 

Doan' fo'git de weekly meetin' 
Ob de amen-cu'nah set ; 

Reckomcmbah dat yo'r pastah 
Got tcr rise dat mawgedge 

Raffle-pahty git togeddah 

Eb'ry Choosd'y night at 
eight ; 

Any offerin's dat yo' min' ter 
May be left at pastah's gate. 

Convu'ts cum on We'n'sd'y 

Wid deir weekly sacerfice ; 
'Membah dat de pastah need it 

When he cut de debil's ice. 

Thu'sd'y night de pickaninnies 
Christen'd by deir rightful 
Dar should be sum conterbu- 
Fo' ''e pastah's chillun's 

Frid'y night de ole folk gaddah 

Fo' ter 'range 'bout buyin' 


Fo' de chu'ch an' fo' de pah- 


An' de pastah's gen'ral good. 

Sat'd'y night de chu'ch choir 
'sembles — 
Tune yo'r voice ter sing de 
When de ushers Sund'y mawnin' 
Shoves de plates ter maik a 


Pat — " Casey 's the model husband. He thinks ivirything av his woife." 

Mike — " He do?" . _, 

Pat—" He do. Iviry toime he blacks her eye he goes out an' gits a sirloin shteak to put on it. 

The Unending 


«<Vk7ELL," says the 
first man, " my 
wife has finally quit 
worrying because the 
fall bonnet she bought 
in September did not 
prove to be just what 
she wanted." 

" That's good," said 
the second man. 

"I don't know. Now 
she's begun worrying 
about what kind of 
trimming she ought to 
have on the bonnet she 
will buy in April." 

Bleeker — " Yes ; ]ioor Jones lost control of his auto." 
Baxter — " Htavcns ! How did it liappen?" 
Bleeker — ■• Why, he foolishly taught his wife how to run it.' 

Olii Griiiiiii — 
room at the top." 

] 'oiiiig Spravjley — 
for the elevator now." 

Remember, young man, there is always 
Oh, I know that. I'm waitincr 


uVk/H.\T kind of a 
hat should a man 
wear with a pepper- 
and-salt suit ?" asked 
the handkerchief sales- 
man of the genius who 
held sway over the 
neckware counter. 
" .\ castor, of course," responded the cravat clerk 
with the insouciance of a man who is studying for the 
stage by spending ten, twenty, or even thirty cents, as 
the case may be, every Friday evening. 



Host — " Have 'no- 
ther drink 'fore you go, 
ole f'ler." 

Guest — " Like to, 
bu' dashn't " 

Host — " You' lasht 
man I'd 'xpected to be 
■fraid o' goo' whiskey." 

Guest — " 'Tain't 
whiskey — 'ts shtairs 
Moved in 'is mornin' 
an' don't know 'm yet." 

Neither Beast 

Nor Human. 

W'ai^glcs — " There's 
one thing about art th it 
has always puzzled me. ' 

J dingles — " What's 

Waggles — " Where 
t'lose artists who draw 
ilie f.ishion-plate figures 
ni ui.a;.:;e to get their 

The hired hand—-' If ye think ye kin change yer mind 'hout me not bein' good enough fer yer 
darter's hand mebbe I'll change my mind 'bout lettin' ye stay right where ye are." 

As Business 


lUT why," asks the 
pTl lawyer for the de- 
fendant of the 

eminent hand-writing ex- 
pert, " are you so cock 
sure that your decision 
on this chirography is 
correct ?" 

" Sir," replies the ex- 
pert with some dignity, 
" I have had the i's ex- 
amined by my consulting 
oculist, the p's by my 
gardener, the b's by my 
apiarist, the c's by a re- 
tired ship-captain, the e's 
by a tramp that I picked 
up some time ago, the 
h's by a globe-trotter who 
has done England, the j's 
by a professional bunco- 
man, the k's by a scien- 
tific cheese-maker, the g's 
by the best teamster I 
could find, the fs by a 
renowned musician, the 
I's by an elevated-railway 
president, the m's by the 


Uncle Amos Beeser — "Say, mister actor, are they, goin' to be eny 
high kickin' at thet show t'-night ? My old woman sez we don't go a 
step if they be." 

The actor — "No high kicking on the stage, uncle ; but, of course, 
we are not responsible for what goes on in the audience." 

president of the typo- 
graphical union, the o's 
by three shrewd bill-col- 
lectors, the q's by a Chi- 
nese savant, the t's by 
one of our leading im- 
porters, the v's and x's 
by a committee of bank- 
cashiers, the w's by a 
green-apple grower, the 
y's by a few members of 
a college faculty, and 
have relied on my own 
judgment as to the rest." 
" Your honor," said 
the lawyer, " we have 
no further questions to 

Everybody Has 

Them Now. 

THE editor-in-chief of 
the comic weekly 
called his staff about 

"Gentlemen," he ob- 
served, " I perceive a 
tendency on your part to 
continue producing ap- 
pendicitis jokes. C u t 
them out, please." 


'Rastus — " Yo' see. Mis' Jackson, he wuz alius kickin' mah carts ter pieces ; so I remembered mah experience on paddle- 
wheel steamboats, an' utilized his kickin'-power ter propel mah equipage in dis mannah." 


• Ah, Lenore ! for a horse, a horse I that we might go hence quickly." 
" Methinks, my lord, that is your hobby." 

They Are Usually So. 

OME OF these verses for 
monuments," observed the 
widow, who was making 
a selection, " are very sweet in- 

" Yes, ma'am," answered the 
marble-cutter, without ceasing his 
work of carving. " Most of 'em 
is epitaphy, you might say." 

Stage Gossip. 

The acfrcss — " Lottie Light- 
foot has had a row with her press- 

The actor — " Whnt's the trou- 
l)le ?" 

The ac/ress — " Why, when she 
\>as examined in supplementary 
proceedings the papers only gave 
her a paragraph when she ex- 
pected a column." 

The New Literature. 

Friend—" What is your new- 
novel about ?" 

iXovelist — "Oh, 1 couldn't tell 
you that. You see, the publishers 
are going to offer a prize to any 
one who discovers the plot." 

A Give-away. 

RY a radium cocktail," suggests the bar-tender, giv- 
ing the mirror an upper-cut with the towel. 

" I guess not," says the man who is eating cioves. 
" If I drank one of those things 
and then went home rnd put up 
the usual excuses to my wife for 
being out late she would see 
through me in a minute." 

A Quanette of Ifs. 

I'D LIKE to hear the mauser crack, 

* The cannon's thund'rous tone. 
If I could do the hearing by 
Long-distance telephone. 

I'd like to fight the Russian bold 

With wild and fiendish grin 
If I could wear some armor-plate 

And uniform of tin. 

I'd like t© help the Japanese 

At morning, night and noon 
If I quite ©ut of reach could fight 

Afloat in a balloon. 

I'd like to camp out in the fields 

With all the men of might 
If I could eat' at a hotel 

And sleep at home at night. 

An Inquiry. 

He — " I don't see why you shouldn't believe that you're 
the only girl I ever loved." 

^Jie — " Why ; did all the other girls believe it ?" 

IF that Panama canal could only 
be dug elsewhere and shipped 
where it is needed, its construc- 
tion would not be delayed. 

Tramping Thorlev — '■ Did yer git de hand-out ye expected uv de lady ?" 
MiRV S.MOLLETT ( growling) — " Naw ! I got a hand-out I didn't expect, consistin" uv 
bones and knuckles. Blamed if it wuzn't almost a knock-out." 

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Keeper — " Yes ; it'll cost de state free hundred dollars to electrocute you." 
COHENSTEIN — "I tell you vat I do — I'll shoot mysellul fer a hundred an' fifty." 

The Song of the Chauffeur. 

(St^ntprt- con gasoline — Molto veloce.) 
T cloudless mom, with ceaseless 
My horseless reckless speeds. 
If thoughtless men stand careless then 
Their wives wear widow's weeds. 

Remorseless pace, this goal-less race, 

But lawless on I steer. 
A hapless cow is legless now 

And spinneth on her ear. 

In helpless wrath my heartless path 
With speechless folk is filled. 

A guileless child — its name is filed 
Among those "also spilled." 

A luckless goat, a hairless shoat, 
Run senseless, tactless, by. 

The pig is pork ; the wingless goat 
I make a butter fly. 

With toneless toot and fearless scoot 

I drive the heartless car. 
There's no redress, methinks — unless 

It be the gates ajar. 

To Doris. 

pvORIS, empty now the place is 
*^ Where my heart was wont to be. 
With the skill of all youi graces, 
Won't you fill it up for me ? 

His Satisfactory Status. 

SUCCESSFUL man, eh ? Has he held some high 
office, achieved a great commercial victory, won a 
name in any of the arts, or become lamous in some 
certain direction ?" 

" Well, no ; not exactly. But he is the solidest farmer 
in the county, lives within his income, is never bothered 
by autograph-hunters, don't know 
he's got a stomach, has sense 
enough to be aware that he's not 
a logical candidate for anything, 
cares even less than he knows 
about good form, has a wife who 
is uncursed by social aspirations, 
trains up his children in the way 
they should go an' goes along 
with them in it, is not distantly 
related to any great man, can 
swap horses without skinnin' or 
never called 

bein' skinned, is 
prominent or stigmatized as ' colo- 
nel,' owns a roadster that is just a 
little bit faster than any other in 
the region, an' has a son-in-law 
that he's abundantly able to lick if 
they ever have a quarrel. Them's 
some of the reasons why I call 
John G. Fullen wider a successful 

The Up-to-date Boy. 

<< \l/ILL your employer be in after dinner ?" inquired the 
visitor of the office-boy. 

" Nope,'' was the laconic reply. 

" What makes you think so .'" was the next query. 

" 'Coz," replied the boy as he prepared to dodge, 
" that's what he went out after." 

HE that would have an oyster 
from the soup must have a 
long spoon, a stout heart, and the 
eye of faith. 


Mr. Medders — "Yes ; it's a tony hat, but it's too blamed big. It comes down over 
my eyes." 

Mr. Cohenburger — "Rachel, get the scissors qvick, an' cut der chentleman's two 
eye-holes in his hat !" 

Poor Judgment. 

HOUR proposal," 
sighed the young 
woman, gazing 
upon the man who knelt 
before her, "is very 
beautiful ; but it sounds 
to me like the one Hec- 
tor de Bauvilleine made 
to Genevra Colincourt in 
' The Romance of Old 
Chizzlewick Castle.' " 

" It is," confessed 
the swain ; " it is almost 
word for word the 
same proposal. You 
see, it seemed to me 
that it was the best form 
I had ever seen, so I 
adopted it." 

" Well, did you read 
the rest of the story ?" 

" No ; only to see 
that she accepted him. 
That's as far as I read." 

" You do not know, 
then, that Hector de 
Bauvilleine ran away 
with the cook after steal- 
ing all of Genevra's jewels and 
I shudder when I think of what 

" Have yez had yer breakfast yit, Muike I" 
"Not a dhrop." 

money ? Please go away. " Intoxicating ?" sniffs 

I have escaped." saw her. The dress was 

Literary Names. 

HES," says the fond 
mamma; " I think 
we picked real 
pretty names for the 
twins. Pa got them 
out of a book. I always 
did like a name with a 
literary tone to it." 

" And what do you 
call the little darlings ?" 

"Fauna and Flora. 
It's from a book in the 
library down town that 
tells about 'The Fauna 
and Flora of the west- 
ern hemisphere.' " 


Spirited Criticism. 

wore a claret-col- 
ored gown with ver- 
mouth braid and rye 
ribbon and bourbon 
laces," says the first 
young woman. " And I 
heard Orville Bings tell 
her she was perfectly in- 
toxicating. Tee-hee !" 
the second young woman. " I 
a mile too tight for her !" 

" So Silas was charged with havin' seven wives. Was th' judge severe on him ?" 
" Awful ! He discharged him with all seven of his wives waitin' fer him in th' corridor.' 

A Musical Confession. 

PLAV oil the fiddle from morning till night, 
To gather the touch that is airy and light ; 
I play to the daisies that bob to and fro. 
And seem to be dancing with rapture aglow. 

T play, and the pussy-cats on the back fence 
All caper about with a joy that's intense ; 
And spotted old Carlo, quite lost in liis mirth, 
Sits up and barks gayly for all he is worth. 

■ Good friends, let me tell you that this is the way 
I practice all night and 1 practice all day ; 
And ^^•llen I can rattle the rag-time so sweet 
That quick 'twill get into the wayfarer's feet 

I'll go for a job on the Rockaway boat. 
And saw the four strings with my ringlets afloat. 
And hear the folks shout, '• He's a genius most rare ! 
Ye gods ! and he hasn't chrysanlhemum liair," 


4<lifHAT are you doing ?" asks the husband, watching 
his wife snipping into some goods with her scissors, 
" Cutting out my spring suit," 
He laughs merrily at her, 

'■ Good joke on you," he says. " You have mistaken 
a map of the war in Manchuria for the pattern." 

" It will not make so much difTerence," she smiles, put- 
•X'mz some more pins in her mouth. '■ It is to have a Rus- 
sian-blouse effect." 

The Merry Manicurist. 

|JE watches the deft hands of the manicurist as she pol- 
ishes his nails. 

" I suppose you get a good many tips, do you not ?" 
he asks. 

" Yes ; finger-tips," she tells him, swinging the chamois 
polisher a little more vigorously. 

Why Homer Only Nodded. 

UOMER nodded. Resenting his curtness, the members 
of the woman's literary club lifted their chins in the 
air and passed on coldly. 

" I can't help it," mused Homer, dipping his pen in tlie 
ink again and resuming work on his poem. " If I should 
smile and bow the whole crowd would cross the street and 
demand autographs." 


(( A ^D what are you doing ?' asks the chairman of the 
committee on labor and charities, who is inspecting 
the factory where are made the perpetuated palms, 

" I am telling fortunes," shyly answered the young 
woman whom he addressed. 

" Telling fortunes ?" 

" Yes, sir. Can you not see I am reeding palms ?" 

And with agay, insouciant giggle she bent over her work. 

Barber — "I trust the shave pleases you, sir?" 

Customer — '• Delighted ! That's the best map of the scene of hostilities between the Russians and Japs I've seen yet." 


M r-^iW^'l 


I feel as if I'd like tn vault 
And turn an airy somersault ; 
Fur on my claw I have a ring, 
Wliich makes me glad as anything, 
Ui.til my S(jul with music flows, 
All made of dear Lysander crows ; 
And so I am in ]ierfect tune. 
Dreaming of wedding-bells and June. 

The Dropped Letter. 

OV made quite a mistake in my article on the 
modern hotel," said Mr. M. Inehost to the editor. 
" I'm sorry to hear that. Wliat was the er- 
ror ? We will try to correct it." 
"Well, where I wrote, 'The problem of feeding the 
corps of attendants and attaches has grown to be one ol 
great importance,' your printers made it read ' the prob- 
lem of feeing.' " 

"Oh, that's nothing," said the editor, turning again to 
his work. " I thought at first that we had made some mis- 
statement of fact." 

The Purse and the Sow's Ear. 

Freddie — "What's a connoisseur, dad ?" 
Cobwigger — " He's a fellow who can find bric-k-brac 
by poking about in a junk-shop." 


Carrying Out the Simile. 

H !" SIGHED the romantic lady, as she and her 
escort stood at the top of the toboggan-slide 
at Montreal, " how much love resembles tobog- 
ganing ! At first there is the pondering over 
the choice of a mate ; then the settling down and coming 
to an understanding as to the rules of the game ; and 
then together the happy couple sail far, far away, thinking 
of nothing except the delight and joy of being together." 

" Yes," answered her practical escort ; " and then 
comes marriage." 

" Oh, ves'," she simpered. 

" Yes; then comes marriage. That consists in pulling 
the toboggan up hill with the girl on the toboggan." 
There was no thaw that day. 


Ebenezer — " Say, Gawge, whar wuz yo' gwine t udder 
day when I saw yo' gwine ter mill ?" 

George — " Gwine ter mill, ob co'se. 
I didn't see yo'." 

Ebenezer—" I nebber seed yo", nudder' till yo, got 
clean outen sight, an' den ef I hadn't a-seed yo' I wouldn't 
'a' node yo'." 

Whar wuz vo' at ? 

" Didn't I just give you a quarter down on Twenty-third 

'• Ves, nia'am ; I've g(jt a branch office there." 

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His Dream of Joy. 

LL soon be on the bleachers 
And watch the zipping ball 
A-cutting down the daisies 
That whisker all the mall. 

I'll perch there like a shanghai 
Upon the moonlit limb 

And eat the bun-bound, varnished 
Frankfurter full of vim. 

I'll root for all the " giants," 

And stamp and clap and cheer, 

And punctuate my gladness 
With now and then a beer. 

Hurrah for good old baseball 
That soon will be on deck 

From Brooklyn to Chicago 
And back to Little Neck ! 

'Twill see me. like a monkey, 
Upon the bleachers sit. 

As happy as a king, while 
The sunny moments flit. 

The while I chant serenely, 
'• Oh, never, never fret ; 
One baseball makes a summer 
In first-class style, you bet !" 

'HE man who is his own worst 
enemy should declare war 


For the Picnic. 

ND when I return," says 
the home-going mission- 
ary to the converted can- 
nibal chief, " we shall 
get our little flock together and 
have a church picnic, as is the cus- 
tom in my native land. Now, is 
there anything I can bring back 
with me that would please you ?" 

" Well," said the cannibal chief, 
" suppose you bring a few sand- 
wich-men just for that picnic." 

Quid Pro Quo. 

(( A NOTHER fifty-dollar hat this 
spring ?" asks the irate hus- 
band. " Why, you got one last year 
and only wore it once." 

" What if I did ?" asks the argu- 
mentative wife. " You only spent 
the fifty dollars once last spring, 
didn't you ?" 

No Cough for Him. 

»WHEN Bliggers had a cough he 
'• Was told to drink no coffee ; 

And now he's sued. 

For he is rude 
And won't cough up his cough fee. 

Pat—" Would ye accept me if Oi should propose, Norah?" 
NoRAH— " Y-yis ; but Oi should want at least two weeks to consider th' matther ' 

All Are Skaters. 


"Has van Dauber finished that painting of a ten-dollar bill?" 

.. No. l^ie poor fellow couldn't resist the temptation of painting the town with his model. 

0LL the world's a 
Of ice. begirt with 

Many skaters take 

A header as they go. 
Some stay on their feet 

If they heed advice ; 
Others take a tumble 

Trying to cut the ice. 

The Obstacle. 

(( IT'S a wonder Mr. 
Henpeck doesn't 
stand on his rights." 

" He can't. Mrs. 
Henpeck always sits on 

The Limit. 

Blibson — " Foggs is 
becoming autocratic." 

Glib son — "Worse ; 
he's becoming automo- 

Graduated Eyesight. 

HES, SIR," said the Den- 
ver hotel-clerk to the new 
arrival ; "that white- 
capped mountain away off 
there is in the Rockies, and it is 
a hundred and fifty miles from 

" Who would have imagined 
it was so far ?" commented the 

" Oh," was the airy response 
from the clerk, " if the atmos- 
phere was only a little clearer 
it would be three hundred miles 

i<THE corkscrew," said' the 
' white-haired philosopher, 

" has been one of the greatest 

aids to temperance." 

"Nonsense!" answered the 

hook-nosed disputant. " Why, 

the corkscrew is one of the 

first things a man wants 

when he thinks of taking a 


" I know ; but he has always 

mislaid or lost it, and frequently 

he can't find another." 


joNBS— " I wish you would figure on a new house for me." 
Architect— "Something about five thousand dollars?" ^ . , . 

Jones-" No; something about five hundred. I've only got five thousand to 
spend on it." 

^■C=,-^cS:^^i^^^^S:^"4 " """'"«i. .1 


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A Business Head. 

HE interviewers ask the nobleman who has just arrived, why 
he is carrying the neat little savings-bank among his baggage. 
" I wish." he explains, " to apply American business meth- 
ods to my love affair — if there should be one." 

"But we thought that would be perfectly understood," 
murmur a few of the interviewers. 

" Ah, gentlemen, I see you do not understand. You see, 

I read the .■\merican papers. I observe how one may buy a 

piano, or a house, or a set of books, or anything, and take 

possession of it without paying in full. The dealers supply 

him with a small savings-bank, similar to the one I have. 

Then each day the purchaser slips a dime or a quarter or a 

dollar into the bank, the dealer retaining the key. Presto ! 

Before you know it you have paid for what you bought and do not notice the expense.'' 

" And you — how will you apply this method to your own case ?" 

•' -And I — if I marry an heiress whose father is temporarily tangled in the markets 

I shall install the little savings-bank in my home, retaining the key, of course, and 

my wife shall place each day a small sum in the bank. You see, messieurs, it will 
make it pleasanter all around " 


Customer {wAo has ordered a book) — -'Have you got the encyclopaedia?" 
New assistant — "Oh. no. sir ! It's something you can't ketch." 

The Woman of It. 

li/HEN Mrs. Pot met Mrs. Kettle 
"' the memory of the 'little dis- 
pute of their husbands was fresh 
in their minds. However, jdrs. 
Pot got over it gracefully, and the 
other members of the club said no 
one could have been nicer or more 
thoughtful about it. Mrs. Kettle 
advanced cordially, took Mrs. Pot's 
hand, and murmured her pleasure. 
Mrs. Pot cried, 

" So glad to see you ! And how 
well you look ! Black, my dear, is 
so becoming to you !" 

A Smoker's Joy- 

I WALK the quiet thoroughfare, 
As if on breezy springs, 
And blow serenely in the air 
These flor del fumar rings. 

I see them slowly drift away 
While I cavort in style 

And heave my chest in manner gay 
And wear a happy smile. 

And as my arms about me fly 
And in the zephyr wave, 

They envy me the weed that I 
Puff on the purple pave. 

And j'et I have a little joke 

While on my way I dive — 

The flor del fumars that I smoke • 
Are always " three for five." 

Spring Bulletin. 

THERE'S a most excited twitter 
' Going on just overhead, 
For a newsboy robin shiiuted, 

'• Extra I Extra! Winter's dead!" 

IT is a wise leap-year girl that looks 
carefully before she leaps. 






X — 



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a: of 

The Horrors 

of War. 

TWO men sat in 
the smoking- 

" Have you read 
the account of the 
capture of Seoul ?" 
asked the one witii 
the newspaper. 

"No ," replied 
the other. " Let us 
hear it." 

He of the news- 
paper began to 

" At dawn the 
Russian column 
moved on the out- 
works, under com- 
mand of Gener- 
al lanovitchkiple- 
When within seven 
hundred yards the 
enemy opened fire. 
The Japanese exe- 
cution was terrific 
— seventeen Rus- 
sian officers fell al- 
most immediately. 
Among these were 
General lanovitch- 
vitch, Colonel Og- 
oroffak 1 i eff ravone 
vitslnoff, Captain 

Romaniefflaysklergnopieff, Lieutenant Veranolieherallieff- 
kjonakoff" The reader's voice suddenly ceased. 

r ■ — 


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Mrs. Kelly — " It sez here thot if wimmen wor prize-foigliters ye wouMn't be 
able to knock thim out." 

Kelly — " No ; there's no use thryin' to put a woman to shlape be hittiii' lier 
on th' jaw." 

Mrs. Park — " No. I am sure he 
hope that I wouldn't ask him to buy m 

He fell writhing to 
the floor, and a 
physician was has- 
tily summoned. 

The man of med- 
icine was shown 
the newspaper ar- 
ticle. L^pon seeing 
it he shuddered 
and shook his head 

"Seven this 
morning," he said 
in a choked voice. 
" Send for the cor- 

Why He Knew. 

n /""AN no child 
tell me what 
kind of a bird 
Noah sent out of 
the ark ?" asked 
the superintend- 
ent. " 

" Billy can," vol- 
unteered the chil- 
dren. " His father 
keeps a bird-store'." 


Mrs. Grainercy 
— " Weren't you 
pleased when your 
husband said you 
looked pretty in 
that dress ?" 

just said it in the 

e a new one." 


Mother — "Johnny Jones, did you get that awful cold out skating ?" 
Son — "Molher. I think I cauglit it washing my face yesterday mornino. 

Patrick — " Phwat's th' name av th' bur-rd, Sandy ?" 
Sandy — "Macaw." 

Patrick — •• G'lang widyezl A bur-rd wid a nose loike thot named McAugh .' R^de 
th' soign ag'in, Sandy." 

QERHAPS the reason we are so prone to find tault with 

our neighbors is that it helps us to forget our own 


One Reason. 

<« ALSO," con- 
tinued the 
portly la<ly who 
was delivering a 
lecture on " the 
duties of the mod- 
el wife " before 
" we should al- 
ways greet our 
husbands with a 
kiss when they 
come home. 
Now, will one of 
my auditors tell 
the underlying 
principleof this?" 

A stern, cold 
woman arises in 
the rear of the 

" It's the surest 
way to catch 'em 
if they 've been 
drinking," she 
says with a know- 
ing nod. 

The Reform Debil. 

pvE DEBIL ain't no roarin' lion, 

^^ Seekin' fo' to devour. 
He quit dem tic-tacs long ago 
When he t0()k on mo' power. 

He done cut off da^ fo'ked tail 
An flung dem lKx)fs aside 

When he diskivered dat de world 
War runnin' open wide. 

He quit de pitch-fo'k fo' de fan — 
He smile so bery nice 

Vo' t'ink dey's nuflin' down below 
'Cept skatin' on de ice. 

De debil sol' his coal-mine out, 
Vacation fo' to take. 

Col'-storage plants are boomin' now 
Down by de brimstone lake. 

At the Present Time. 

Jimpson — " The horrors of 
war are certainly unspeakable." 

Simpson — "And the names 
of the naval commanders are 
equally unpronounceable." 

A Test of Altruism. 

Little Willie — " Pa, what's 
an al-tru-ist ?" 

His father — •' A man, my 
child, who carries his umbrella 
all day without using it, and then is glad it didn't rain, on 
account of the people who had no umbrellas with them." 


Both owners (simultaneousfy)- 

-" Hey, friend ! what do you say to you and me swapping dogs?' 

Too Practical. 

nHE young woman, her hair tossed 
carelessly by the sighing zephyrs 
of the evening, her cheeks 
flushed with the glow of radiant 
health, and her lips parted in a 
bantering smile, asked, 

" And am I really beautiful?" 
Now, the young man w as a stu- 
dent — he was a statistical studeni. 
Wishing to be exact and 
truthful in all things, he 
drew from his pocket a 
small note-book, 
turned to a well- 
thumbed page, and 
read aloud, 

■' ' The perfectly 
beautiful woman — 
The head should be a 
seventh part of the 
body — that is, the height 
shou d be equal to seven 
heads.' " 

The girl looked at him in wonder. 

" I should say," commented the young 
man, " that you are not quite seven times 
as high as your head ; but still " 

" If I were seven times as high ? s my head I should be 
thirty-five feet high," asserted the girl. 

" It doesn't mean that, Miss Purteigh. It means that if 
your head were to be taken -off and six more like it put on 
top of it, it would result in a row of heads that should equal 
your height, if you were mathematically correct." 

" Thev'll never do that with me unless I have to work 
in a museum," answered the girl. 

The young man returned to his book. 

" ' The eyebrows should be well marked 
and the lashes should be long and silky. 
Eyes that are shaped like almonds are 
the most beautiful.' " 

" And what is the shape of my eyes?'' 
she demanded. 

• To be honest," he replied, "they 
are something the shape of an egg." 

" Well, I'm glad they don't look 
ike peanuts," she sniffed. 

Sill unconscious of the 
trouble he was danc- 
ing over, he resumed. 
" • The nose should 
equal the forehead in 
length. Its thickness 
should be in propor- 
tion to the features.' " 
The girl clapped her 
fingers over her nose. 
" You sha'n't meas- 
ure my nose !" she de- 
clared in muffled tones. 
" Very well,' an- 
swered the scientific 
youth. " Let us go on. 
' The chin should be 
delicately rounded and free from indention.' " She put her 
other hand over the dimple in her chin. 

' ' The hands should be long and plump, with tapering 

fingers ' " 

" Herbert Muggser." came from bc-eath the hands, 
" you stop ! You go home, and stay till I send for you." 
" Wlien will that be ?" 

" Whenever I find a book of rules on h w to tell 
whether a man has good sense." 

Will Biddy "stand pat"? 


Mrs. Lently — " Have you read that article about the Kpiscopai canons excommunicating divorced members who remarry?" 
Mr. Le.ntlv — '• Ves. "The new canons seem to be of the rapid-fire order, don't they?" 




A Family Affair. 

IfaBTlILL you marry me ?" asked the fair young thing. 
■ Al " ^ — ' — really, this is so sudden !" answered the 

^^^ timid youth. •• I fear I may only be a brother to 
you, but you might ask papa. ' 

"You'll be a brother to me, anyhow," she replied. 
" Mamma is asking your papa, too." 


His Home Shave. 

SIT ON the keg and I let the brush fly 
All over my face, Jrom the chin to the eye ; 
Then with the old razor I have, full of joy, 
The shave that is velvet, and not corduroy. 

I push the old razor with speed o'er my chin. 

And crack the wire whiskers two days 'neath the skin ; 

And as the keg wabbles I break into song. 

While to its andante I shave right along. 

At last, when I've finished, I feel spick and span. 
And quite like another hen-bred Afri-can. 
Tis then loud I shout, while my fealures I lave, 
Hurrah for the joys of tiie dandy home-shave !" 

Moralizing Mehaffey— '^ How foolish uv dose high-toned folks to be out in de cold hittin' up a little ball V' 
Parched Partington— " Yes ; but how sensible it would be if us low-toned indiwiduals wuz tn out uv de cold 
hittin' up a big da/// Now, wouldn't it?" 


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A Rural Pessimist. 


A Celestial Conversation. 

[VERY now and then 
the newly -arrived 
spirit was rather 
^^—^—^ inclined to throw 
on style, which, considering 
his abiding-place, was un- 
called for, and w.ts naturally 
distasteful to the rther spirits. 
He was rlway-. talking ab lUt 
how many things had hap- 
pened to him wh le he so- 
journed on earth. One day 
he fell in with i mild-manner- 
ed spirit who listened patient- 
ly to his boasting. 

" And so you think you 
are entitled to some special 
distinction because you en- 
dured so much in your other 
life ?" asked the mild-man- 
nered spirit. 

" Oh, I don't say that, ex- 
actly," was the airy, noncha- 
lant reply; "but of course 
anyone who has gone through 
what I did is of necessity en- 
titled to ^ome distinction." 

" Um-m-m I Well, what 
was the most trying ordeal 
you suffered ?" 

" The very worst, I should 
say, was being operated upon 
for appendicitis." 

The mild-mannered spirit 
laughed satirically. "Appen- 
dicitis ?" he chuckled. " My 
good fellow, you don't know 
the least thing about critical 
operations. I've got voit 

IWHILE good folks are 
"' shoutin' 

I am very glum. 
All these dancin' blossoms 

Do not mean a plum. 

On the peach's blossom 
You can never bet 

Thet a peach fur certain 
You will ever get. 

Folks may;take ter dancin'. 

Bui your Uncle Cale • 
Bets his bottom dollar 

Thet the crops 'II fail. 

A Sign of Spring. 

Cobwigger — "What 
• 10 you want with a set 
of wheels .'" 

Freddie — " Want to 
make an express-wagon 
out jf the bobsled." 

double discounted." And he floated away, with a trail of 
sardonic laughter in his wake. 

"Who is that old boaster?" asked the new spirit of a 

" The one you were talking with ? Don t you knew 
him ? That's Adam." 

He Was Flourishing. 

(( I HEAR that Jimpkins is getting along fine in the city," 

said Blobbson. 
" I suppose he is, maybe ; but I never thought he 
would," commented Niverly. 

" His father told me he was flourishing, though." 
" Yes. he is. He is teaching penmanship." 

THE royal housekeeper found King Midas in the cellar 
' weeping golden lears that were rattling down on the 

floor like hail. ' 

"Good master!" cried she, "what is the matter?" 

" Alack, alack !" cried the unlucky king. " It was darK 

down here, and 1 have put my hand in the coal-bin by 


The cabby {soliloquising) — " Shure. Oi knew from th' shtart 'twould be a match. He niver 
mintioned a wur-rd about th' price av' tli' fare, bless his heart I" 

1 lope on the flagstone at morning and night. 
And peddle the jV^vs with a grin of delight ; 
I yell of great battles that never were fought, 
And all my big pack in a jiffy is bought. 

I shout like a war-painted Indian, you bet, 
And smoke, while I'm shouting, the gay cigarette, 
And whirl in my flight like a der\'ish of song, 
Until my staccato is heard in Hong-Kimg. 

And then when my coins in the twilight I count 
The cliarger of rapture instanter I mount 
And glide to my chateau upon the Back bay. 
And fancy I lounge on the sward in Cathay. 

And that's why I'm ever alert and elate, 
AVhile dancing and snapping my fingers at fate, 
And filling the ambient zephyr apace 
With news of the battles that never took place. 

Not Always. 

(( \J0 ; the models are not a bad lot," says the artist. 
'^ "I hardly thought they could be as bad as 
you paint them," comments the friend. 


Casey {from his hiding-place) — " Whist, Muldoon I How's 
th' Or-rangeman Oi shwatted yisterday ?" 

MuLDOON — " He's in th' hospital, hangin' betwixt loife an' 

Casey — " Hangin' is he? Shure, thot's too good fer him." 





Widower — •• Are you happy, Sarah?" 
Sarah (or her spirit) — "Yes. Henry; perfectly happy. 
leen-incU corset, and the smallest size shoes never pinch." 

1 can now squeeze myself into a six- 


H^O YOU think you 
'■^ could read my 
future if I would 
let you hold my hand ?'' 
asks the maiden. 

" Well, don't you 
think it shows more 
consideration for you 
than to go out and fig- 
ure on the stars ?" he 

Ten minutes later 
he was holding her 
hand and his own fu- 
ture had been settled. 


Jo h n ny Wise — ' ' Pa , 
what is a prospective 
bridegroom .■"" 

Mr. IVise—'-V^eW, 
my son, a prospective 
bridegroom nowadays 
is a young man pros- 
pecting for an heiress." 


Her Falseness. 

ND so," ejaculates the wild-eyed lover, " you will not 
be my valentine ?" 

" Why, the idea !" titters the fair young thing, 
smiling in derision and revealing a row of pearly teeth. 

"You laugh at me ?" cries the youth. " At last I see 
your falseness !" 

With a start the girl 
ceases smiling, closing 
her lips firmly. S! e 
also nervously clutchts 
her top hair. 

" Ha, ha !" is the 
bitter laugh of the re- 
jected one. " I only 
meant to refer meta- 
phorically to your heart, 
I had my suspicion^, 
however, as to your 
teeth and hair." 

M aje sti cally he 
stalked from the room, 
while the woman, ut. 
terly crushed, fell to 
weeping before her 

A 'Prentice Hand. 

jiTH.^T man you had doing some carpenter work is 
a fraud." 
" How do you know ? He did good work." 
" That may be ; but he's no carpenter. He cleared 

up the mess he m.ide." 

the things that are 
too good to be true are 
a good deal scarcer 
than the things that are 
too true to be good. 

William — "I say, Joseph ; what's the good word?" 
Joseph — " 'Sh I Don't bother me, my boy. I'm getting my part for to-nightr 


Their First Punishment. 

j]HAT are you doing, Cha- 
ron ?" asked one of the 
shades who were loaf- 
ing on the landing-pier at the 
Styxian ferry terminal. 

" I'm rigging up a lot of 
straps on a rail over the centre 
of my boat, ' explained Charon. 
' Its a new wrinkle we 've in- 
vented for the benefit of street- 
railway barons who do not run 
sufficient cars to accommodate 
their patronage. We '11 make 
'em hang on to these straps for 
fifteen round trips before we 
let 'em off the boat, and I'm 
going to stand close to 'em 
and holler ' Fare !' right in 
their ears about every two sec- 

A Gilt-edged Outlook. 

^liE crops are all o. k. ; 

They're comin' mighty 
1 fine. 

An' with the millionaire 
I'll shortly be in line. 

The cabbage an' the squash, 
The turnip an' the bean, 

Just bust to beat the band 

An' make the future green. 

Oh, soon I '11 find tliat they 
Are just as good as wheat, 

An' sell them for the price 

They're gettin' now fer meat. 

An' then a millionaire 

1 '11 caper, don't you know, 
An' hang forever up 

The shovel an' the hoe. 


• How can you tell that tlie Shamrock is an Irish boat?" 

• By the wake." 

CA'EN Christian science 
^ would hate to tackle error 
on the ball-grounds. 

Frayed Fagin — '• Wof's good fer a dog-bite ?" 

Sunny Beam — " Git a hair uv de dog dat bit yer an' " 

Frayed Fagin—" I ain't got a chance. Dis wuz a Mexican hairless dog 



HERE'S Gabb- 
sey over in the 
corner with 
Popsey, telling him 
all about the smart 
things little Willie 
has been saying," re- 
marks Migglebury. 

" Yes ; and just 
notice what an inter- 
est Popsey is taking 
in it," answers Fa- 

" 1 don't see how 
the man can stand it." 

" Oh, he'll get his 
evens all right." 

•• How ?•■ 

" Why, didn't you 
know that Popsey 
has a set of triplets, 
and they are only be- 
ginning to talk, and 
they all three say 
bright things at 
once ?" 


fluiKCU 6c^t~ 


Why weeps the cow ? Why don't slie give 

The fly a swishing shoo? 
See how the artist drew her tail — 

Whai can the poor cow do? 

A Reminiscence. 

T IS the tenth 
year of the 
world. Colo- 
nel Adam Adam, the 
popular farmer of 
the land of Nod, is 
busy in his field, 
when a political del- 
egation calls on 
him. By way of open- 
ing the conversation, 
the chairman ob- 

" We are having 
an early fall, this 
year, colonel." 

" Not half as early 
as we had in one," 
snortsColonel Adam, 
turning his back on 
the delegation. 

Realizing that they 
have fractured the 
entente cordiale, the 
visitors silently with- 

r\ID you ever see a newsp per portrait of a man who A PENNILESS man is always telling you how charitable 
was in politics for his health ? he would be if he had the price. 

'■ What are you plunging back in the water for? You just swam ashore.' 
" Shure, Oi had to save meself first ; now Oi'm goin' to fetch Moike." 

He Knew. 

14 THERE is a good 
deal of illiteracy 
around here, isn't 
there?" asked the 
man from the north, 
who was journeying 
through the wilds of 

•' Thar used to be, 
stranger," replied the 
native to whom the 
inquiry wasaddressed, 
" but them confound- 
ed revenue officers 
have done busted the 
business plumb up." 

His Role. 

((I SEE that de Ran- 
tem is going to 
be a star next season," 
observed Brutus Fut- 
lites to Beatrice Lite- 

"A shooting -star, 
no doubt," comment- 
ed Beatrice with that 
spontaneous wit which 
has made her press- 
agent famous ; " for 1 
understand he is to 
have the leading role 
in a wild-west drama." 

The Merry Mag- 

«I-IA, HA!" laughed 
the first street- 
railway magnate, 
who was going 
through his mail. 
" Here's a funny let- 

"What is it?" 
asked the second 
street - railway mag- 

" Oh, the usual 
bunch of complaints 
about the service," 
explained the first 
speaker ; " but it is 
signed ' A patron of 
twenty years' stand- 

" By hookey ! thet must be tlie lire-water I've heerd the Indians tell so 
much on but never seed before." 

Mc Jigger — " I saw 
Markley blowing off 
that theatrical man- 
ager to a ten-dollar 
dinner yesterday." 

Th i n g u in b b — 
" Yes ; a scheme of 
his, and it worked 
beautifully. He was 
working him for a 
couple of passes." 


In the Gro- 

BSaMES," said 
'==' the honest 
grocer to his in- 
dustrious clerk, 
" I find that you 
have taken in a 
counterfeit dollar 
and two or three 
lead quarters this 
week. You must 
be more careful. 
I have spoken to 
you several times 
about giving bet- 
ter attention to 
your work. Now, 
hereafter you 
must notice tlie 
money that is 
handed to you, 
and not let these 
swindlers palm 
off imitations on 
you. While I am 
on .the subject of 
your inattention 
— 1 might say 
carelessness, but 
let's call it inattention 
you not to pour any 
pure cider-vinegar. It 
complaint, and it will 

'Say, boss, I bet dis yere combinashun 's gwine ter ketch me sumthin'.' 

to duty — I might as well tell 

more water into that barrel of 

's almost too weak now to avoid 

not do to reduce it further. 

Where's that 'pure country butter' sign? 
Hunt it up and put it on this tub of butter 
that has just come in from the packing- 
house. You ought to have done that when 
the goods came in. And what have you 
done with the ' new-laid eggs ' card ? Get 
It right away and place it on this crate 
from the storage-house. Oh, yes ; and 
don't forget to push this genuine maple- 
syrup to the customers. Here's a couple 
of bottles I brought back from home. We 
can't eat the stuff. Put the bottles in stock 
,and get rid of them. Now, move a little 
ivelier, James, and look 
out for bad money, and 
you'll be all right." 

Useful Piece of 

THEY are going to 
have a bureau of 
information at 
the corner drug- 
store during the 
convention," said 
Mrs. Perkins. 

" Wonder if we 
couldn't get it af- 
is over," mused 
her husband. 
" Get it ? Get what ?" inquired Mrs. Perkins. 
" The bureau of information. We need one in the 
house. I could keep my handkerchiefs in it. Nobody 
ever knows where they are now." 

Farmer — -' Mutlier, I hain't got the heart ter do it. It 'd seem too much like killin' one o' the family." 

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Helpful Hints. 

IHE anxious mother rings up 
what she thinks is the day- 
nursery to asl< for some 
' ' advice as to her child. 

She asks the central for the " nurs- 
ery," and is given Mr. Gottfried 

Gluber, the florist and tree-dealer. 
The following conversation ensues : 

•• I called up the nursery. Is this 
the nursery ?" 

•' Yes, ma'am." 

" I am so worried about my lit- 
tle Rose." 

" Vat seems to be der madder ?" 

"Oh, not so very much, peniaps, 
but just a general listlessness and 
lack ot life." 

" Ain'd growing righd, eh ?" 

"No, sir." 

" Veil, I dell you vat you do. You 
dake der skissors und cut off apoud 
two inches vrom der limbs, und" 

" Wha-a-at ?" 

" I say, dake der skissors und cut off apoud two inches 
vrom der limbs, und den turn der garten-hose on for apoud 
four hours m der morning " 

" \Vha-a-at ?" 

" Turn der garten-hose on for apoud four hours in der 
morning, und den pile a lot ohf plack dirt all arount, und 
shprinkle mit inseg'-powter all ofer der top " 

" Sir-r-r ?" 

" Shprinkle mit insegt-powter all ofer der top. You know- 
usually id is noddings but pugs dot " 

'• How dare you ? What do ,ou mean by using such 
language ?" 

" Noddings but pugs dot chenerally causes der trou- 
bles ; und den you vant to vash der rose mit a liquid 



H.A.RRY Upstart — '• Well, this is the day I 
throw up my job. I realize ihat it will be hard to 
fill my place, but you have never appreciated my 
ability ; so I am goi;ig to make money for myself 
instead of piling it lip for you." 

breparations I haf for sale " 

" Who in the world are you, 

anyway ?" 

" Gottfried Gluber, der florists." 
"O-o-oh !" weakly. " Good-bye !" 

Sambo in the Storm. 

jlHEN de big clouds dark de 
An' de crows begin to fly ; 
When a mewl prick up 
his ears — 
Dat's de time a niggah skeers. 
\\Tien de lightnin' make a streak 
'Crost de fiel' an' down de creek ; 
When de thunder growl an' roll — 
Good Lawd, save a niggah's soul 1 

When de screech-owl bulge his eyes 
Ten times bigger dan dar size ; 
When de tree-tops swing an' bend — 
Good Lawd, be de niggah's friend. 

When de winds in canebrakes roar, 
When de rains break loose an' pour. 
When de debit turn out wild — 
Good Lawd, hope dis niggah child. 


His Estimate. 

OU used to tell me I was birdlike," complains the 
fond wife. 
The brutal husband continues to bury his nose in the 

" You used to tell me I was birdlike," repeats the fond 
wife, " but now you never act as if you thought so." 
" You're still birdlike," growls the brutal husband. 

" One wouldn't think you thought so, to judge by " 

" Isn't a parrot a bird ?" 

WHEN the red-haired young lady goes out for a stroll 
No longer a white horse with dread fills her soul. 
But oh, what unspeakable joy does she feel 
At the sight of a snowy-white automobile ! 

In business for himseJl^ 

A Costly 


Kir by — "Poor 
Benedict thought 
two could live as 
cheaply as one." 

Corby — "Dis- 
covered h i s mis- 
take, eh ?' 

Kir by — ' Sure ! 
He entirely over- 
looked the bar- 
gain days." 

Misnomers. ^^s^ 

How often do we 
' ' witness 

Quite a run on 
And who finds ac- 
In accommoda- 
tion trains? 

Harry Upstart (a year later) — " Are you 
in need of an office-boy, sir?" 


At a Revival. 

THE parson, after a sermon of fiery eloquence, 
exhorting the congregation to accept the spirit 
of the Lord and be saved, concluded his ser- 
mon by inviting every one to come forward for 
prayer, and all did so except Farmer Jones, who 
remained in his seat. There was a moment of 
awkward silence. 

" Mr. Jones," said the parson in his mos 
persuasive manner, " won't you come forward 
for prayer ?" 

" No ; guess not," said the farmer quietly. 
" Don't you want to be born again ?" 
queried the parson. 
" Xo, I do not." 
•' And why not, may I ask ?" 
" 'Fraid I shoild be a girl." 


Bron'CO Bill — "Lord! Jack's made a glaring 

Grizzly Pete — "Why, de game ain't started 
yet !" 

Bronco Bill^— " Nope ; but he's going inter de 
game without his gun !" 

" A paced race." 

Preceptress (to fair one beginning Virgil)—. 
" Miss Jones, you may begin." 

Miss yones — " ' I sing of arms and tlie man' — 
let me see — ' I sing of arms and the rnan ' " 

Preceptress — " Well, Miss Jones, what fol- 
lows ?" 

Miss Jones (with confidence) — " Oh ! an 
engagement, I am sure." 

A Bud of Passage. 

IJE JOYED that she 
* ' was back in town. 
He had resolved to tell 
his love. 
To meet her train, he 
hurried down 
In ardent haste his fate 
to prove. 

"You're glad to be at 
home ?" His pause 
She filled as fast as she 
could speak — 
" Glad? yes, I'm awfully 
glad — because 
We sail for India next 
week !" 


Joties — " In what 
time does McGovern 
usually win ?" 

Bones — " Jig" 

MagGiE — " Ain't it orful de extravagance uv de rich ?" 

Nora — " Sinful ! I'll bet de money dat young guy wastes on champagne and cigars would keep 
two or three poor families in mixed ale and terbacker !" 

His Mission. 

|m|E gayly sports 
lUI About the lot. 
And oft cavorts 
In joy red-hot 

To keep in trim 

His kicking gear 

For lifting him 

That ventures 

Around the bland 
Sky to gyrate. 

To scatter and 

Friend — " Mar- 
riage is a lotter)'." 

Confirmed bach- 
elor — " Take no 

(( A RE you a good all-round girl ?" 

" Shure, mum, it's all round the town Oi've bin 
in the lasht two months." 

Mrs. Flynn — "It must hov bin a great blow whin 
Dinny died, Mrs. Murphy." 

Mrs. Murphy — " Yis ; but Oi r-remimbered we are all 
in the hands av an unshcrupulous providince." 

'• Don't cry, litUe boy, and I will give you half of the 
worm out of this apple." 

Blibson — " I understand that South American general 
has resolved to sell his life dearly?" 

Glibson — " Yes ; he wants ten dollars for the library 


Tatterden Toran — " Bill 's on de hog-train all right." 

Westward HoE — -'He is?" 

Tatterden Toran — " Yes. He's a brakeman on de elevated railroad, down in New York.' 


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Tramp — " Lady, I hev no place ter lay me head" 

Lady — " Pcwr man ! Here is fifty cents for a sofa-pillow,' 

The World's Cold 

Mr. Quiller (the law- 
yer) — " By the way, I 
wonder what became of 
little 'Scrappy' McGin- 
nis, who used to play 
' hookey ' to play baseball 
when we were back in 
the little stone school- 
house ? I'll bet he came 
to no good end." 

Dr. Poorpreach (re- 
gretfully) — " He's now 
getting ten thousand dol- 
lars a summer as a base- 
ball pitcher." 

From Stake to Steak. 

jjTHE horse must go." 
I Full soon he '11 be 
A figment and a fable. 

The auto on the road we see. 
The equine on the table. 


Conflicting Emotions. 

HE two girls — they were schoolmates once and ate ol- 
ives from the same jar and made fudge over the same 
gas-jet — the two girls meet after the lapse of years. 

" Oh, you dear old thing !" is of course the first ex- 
clamation from each of them. 

The first confesses, with some embarrassment, that she 
has not yet been married. 

" I am married, though," acknowledges the second. 

" How sweet ! Whom did you marry ?" 

" Tullyrand Stitchem, the famous ladies' tailor." 

" Isn't that just 
grand ? Now you 
can have your frocks 
made for nothing." 

" Yes ; but think 
what it is to know 
that your husband is 
making gowns for 
other women and 
may make one of 
them a handsomer 
one than he makes 
you !" 

At this the first 
girl is properly sym- 


An Acquired Taste. 

T A luncheon to which little Mary and her mother 
were invited a peculiar kind of cake, new to 
the three-year-old, was served. After tasting it 
thoughtfully she said, " Mother, I wish you'd get the 
recipe for this." 

" Why, darling ?" said the gratified hostess. " Do you 
like it?" 

" Not at all," answered the cherub decidedly ; " but 
if mother 'd make it and make it I might learn to 
like it." 

He (enthusiastic- 
ally) — " How true 
to life Miss Warble 
sang that coon- 
song !" 

She (acridly) — 
" Well, I should say 
so ! Why, she was 
black in the face." 


MosE — "Dat's de bull Jeff swapped his ole mule fer." 
Pete — "Huh ! Jeff 's got a seat on de stock-exchange.' 


" How am vo'r bloomin' bride segastiatin' dis mawnin', sah ?" , ,, „ 

•^ She am fe'elin' quite preposterous, sah. In fact, she am de only toad in de puddle. 


There had been a high time at the fashionable sum- 
mer resort for some weeks, and the hero of it was a man 
of fascinating appearance and all the usual qualities to be 
found in the hero of modern fiction. When he smiled all 
the women were at his feet, and not simply because he was 
the only good-looking man in the 

The gossips were already be- 
ginning to whisper and to predict 
an engagement between him and 
the belle of the town. They were 
constantly together, and the story 
of her heart could be read in her 

But the end came at last. 
One day they were sifling to- 
gether in a secluded corner, 
when he pulled his handkerchiet 
from his pocket and something 
fell to the floor. The adoring 
girl immediately grabbed it, 
saying that she would keep it 
as a souvenir of him, but when 
she looked at it their romance 
was ended. There was no 
need to be a Sherlock Holmes 
to know that he was a family 
man, and, what was even worse, 
that his home was probably in 
Brooklyn. The souvenir that 
she had picked up was a safe- 


To be a big gim 

Was what he desired, 

So first he got loaded 
And then he was fired. 


Some fresh-air children were 
staying in a large farm-house on 
the outskirts of a pretty town. 
One of the little girls had a bad 
toothache. It was found neces- 
sar)- to drive into town with her 
and have the tooth removed. 
Next morning two more of the 
children announced that their 
teeth ached. They were taken in 
for treatment. Coming back the 
older boy was overheard to say, 
" .Ain't this bully ? I told Jim to 
come, but he was skeered. Didn't 
hurt much." 

Tears sprang to the eyes ot 
Mrs. A. as she realized, with a 
gasp, that for the sake of the ride 
into town the boys had sacrificed 
their teeth. An omnibus was 
provided to take the children driv- 
ing every day after that, and there 
was not another case of toothache. 


Freddie — '■ What is circumstantial evidence ?" 
Cobvjigger — " As a general thing it's the theory of 

an expert, which is proved to be entirely wrong when the 

truth comes out." 


"Dat -feller wid de four-in-han' run me off de bridge an' make me 'take water,' an' iaf« 
som'thin' I neber do if I can help it." 

I f'> 



First cucumber — " I say ! what the deuce are you getting into that pickle for?' 
Second cucumrER — •' Merely as a matter of self-preservation." 

The New Ceremony. 

(( IF ANY person," says the judge solemnly, " knows of 
any reason why this couple should not be divorced, 
let him now speak or forever after hold his peace." 

The plaintiff and defendant gaze nervously about the 

'■ I object to this ceremony going any further !" cries a 
person in a rear seat, who springs to his feet. 

" Why ?" asks the judge. 

" The woman has no histrionic ability whatever." 

Sternly the judge orders 
the bailiff to escort the baffled 
pair to the door. 


li/HEN first upon a platter 
' ' My heart was served to you, 
The cooking you did flatter 
Because the dish was new. 

My heart again did Cupid 
Serve as a r^chaufce. 

^'ou said the cook was stupid 
To serve it every day. 

Convinced that he must hide it 
(ISase use for hearts to stoop), 

He cut it up and fried it 

And served it in the soup. 

Works Both Ways. 

{< |F ^VE had more money at 
our command," declare the 
polar explorers, " we could find 
the north pole in no time." 

"If you had more north 
poles," retort the plutocrats, 
" you could discover one once in 
a while, too." 

Whereat the explorers dis- 
cover that their compasses have been deflected by the 
wrong bank-account. 


Did Not Appeal to Him. 

\JO," SAID the cannibal king ; " I take great pleasure 
in informing you that I have abandoned my former 
custom of dining on such sailors as should be sliipwrecked 
on my island. 1 have lost all liking for them." 

" Ah ! ' mused the missionary. " The salt has lost 
its savor." 

No Trail. 

(I'THE crime," declares the 
great detective, " was 
evidently committed by a 

•■ Ah !" says the listener. 
" And do you expect to dis- 
cover her trail ?" 

" No," asserts the wise 
sleuth " And I will tell you 
why. My deductions impel 
me to the belief that the 
w Oman wore a rainy-day 

The Difference. 

I TFE is light as any feather 
" If we're steering clear ot 

fogs ; 
And 'tis only " beastly " weather 
When 'tis raining cats and 

He has an eye that seeks the light 

That shines in lovely faces. 
And an arm that is successful quite 

In getting round waist places. 





HE place is too pitifully prosaic for words," 
complained Miss Kitty Kildare poutfuUy, 
tracing on the sand with the point of her 
pink parasol a most affrightingly grotesque 
figure ; " here three days and not even a 
proposal !" 

She stabbed the beach savagely with the 
ferrule of her sun shield, then suddenly sat bolt upright 
in the stationary chair which was hers for the season. 
The ever-dancing light in the big brown eyes flashed with 
a swift accession of fire, the parasol dropped from her 
dimpled fingers, and she sat with her bare elbows resting 
on her knees, staring intently into the boisterous sea. 
Then slowly she rose, gathering up her skirts and tread- 
ing daintily across the strip to the short boardwalk which 
led to the road, noting not the laughing bathers in the 
surf or the tanned loungers on the shore. 

"Not a bad-looking girl, that Miss Kildare," mused 
Montgomery, the big-bodied young broker, watching her 
from his seat 'neath the arbor. " I must find more time 
for cultivating her." 

" Regular picture-girl," decided little Stewart, the law- 
yer ; " she blends beautifully with that gentle ocean breeze. 
Guess I'll see a bit more of her." 

Meantime, Miss Kildare gained the roadway and stepped 
into the dog-cart drawn by the fat little pony Pronto, so 
called on account of his undeviating dislike of fast motion. 
It is to be said of Pronto, the pony, that not only did he 
regard the frequently posted warnings as to illegal speeds 
— he actually anticipated them. And so it was that Miss 
Kildare reached the hotel not so soon as she wished, and 
jumping hastily from the cart, bitterly reproached Pronto 
for his deliberateness, to the which Pronto responded by 
showing his teeth in a smile of faint derision. 

Miss Kildare hurried to her room, sought her writing- 
desk and wrote rapidly for ten minutes. Then she 
stretched back in the chair, chewed abstractedly on the 
end of the penholder and read her composition. In all. 
she had written two letters, and the first of these was 

" My dear Mr. Montgomery : I scarcely know how 
to set about answering you, because the task is certainly 
the most distasteful I have ever had put to me. The 
words I should like to use will not come freely, and the 
words that do suggest themselves are much too hackneyed 
to be used on such an occasion. Of course I might tell 
you that I am immensely honored by the offer you have 
made me, and sincerely regret that I am not able to do as 
you wish. And, after all, I fancy that is the best thing 
for me to say. The expression is not new, l)ut it is won- 
drously true. I do greatly respect you, Mr. Montgomery, 
and I do very earnestly thank you for asking me to be 
your wife, but I cannot marry you. You have been so 

frank and manly with me that I feel a like candor is due 
you. When I say I do not care for you in that way, it is 
because I do care for some one else in that way, and this 
makes me the more considerate of your feelings because 
that some one has as yet given no sign that the sentiment 
is mutual. He is all things that are worthy — as a matter 
of fact, he is staying here for the season, and you must 
know him and his many fine qualities — and he has won my 
heart. I do not say this in the spirit to exalt him at this 
time, but rather because I wish you to know just why I 
cannot answer you as you wish, and also to prove to you that 
others suffer in afTairs of this sort besides yourself. I trust 
that things being as they are will not make any change 
in our friendship. I respect you highly and shall value 
your continued acquaintance — but my love is no longer 
mine to give. Believe me, 

" Very, very sincerely yours, 

" K.\THERiNE Kildare." 

The other letter occupied the same number of pages, 
as indeed, why should it not, seeing that, word for word, 
the notes were indentical ? The only difference was in 
the address. The second epistle started, " My dear Mr. 

Miss Kildare addressed two envelopes, following her 
critical inspection of her product. The one superscrip- 
tion was, 

Mr. Martin Montgomery, 

The Twiggeries, 
Iiitportani. Town. 

As for the other envelope, the legend ran, 
Mr. Donald Stewart, 

Hotel Hollyhock, 
Important. Town. 

Whereupon, with an inscrutable look in the still danc- 
ing eyes. Miss Kitty Kildare folded and properly creased 
the note of rejection to Mr. Montgomery and inclosed it 
in the envelope directed to Mr. Stewart. This leaving 
one note and one envelope, Miss Kildare effected a com- 
bination by placing the letter to Mr. Stewart in the wrap- 
per marked for Mr. Montgomery, sealed the correspond- 
ence, and, tripping lightly to the reading-room, dropped 
both communications in the mail-box and sighed raptur- 

Mr. Martin Montgomery, at jreakfast next morning, 
devouring the stock list in the city paper with almost as 
much relish as he did the porterhouse and grilled eggs, 
grumblingly laid aside the market report as an attendant 
handed him a letter. The momentary ill-humor speedily 
gave place to curiosity as the young broker regarded the 
' " Postmarked here," he commented, " and in the hand- 

writing of a woman. And "town, too. I don't believe I 
know any girl here who writes to me." 

He tore open the envelope in a puzzled sort of waj-, and 
the air of mystification with which he had received the 
note heightened as he read the first few lines. Then he 
laid the letter down and picked up the envelope, which he 
e.xamined with the utmost care. This, too, he laid down, 
and for a full minute he regarded the ceiling with an in- 
tentness which drew out the respectful alarm of the head- 
waiter. Then he put4he envelope in his pocket and read 
the letter slowly and painstakingly. 

After breakfast he walked out in the sycamore grove 
and dropped into a shaded arbor, where again he read 
the letter written by Miss Kildare and rejecting Mr. Stew- 
art. Finally his thoughts took shape. 

"So little Stewart has been proposing to Miss Kildare, 
eh ?" he mused. "And been properly turned down, eh ? 
Well, why not.' What could a goddessy creature like 
that girl see in a little two-by-four lawyer ? When she 
marries, I'll bet she marries some man she will have to look 
up to, a big, athletic fellow who can protect her, a fellow 
like — well, well, what am I thinking of ? Now, I wonder 
who the man is she's in love with," thus ran the thoughts 
of Mr. Montgomery. " She says he's staying here. Why, 
she's only been here herself three days. She can't have 
become acquainted with very many. Let's try the process 
of elimination." 

Mr. Montgomery thus indulged himself for a few min- 
utes, when a strange look came into his eyes, a look as of 
appreciation and quasi-pity and speculation. Gradually 
the specul?.tion passed away and smug satisfaction reigned. 
He re-read that portion of Miss Kildare's letter to Stewart 
dwelling on the loss of the lady's aflTections. 

" ' He's all things worthy,' eh ? Well, she's a fine little 
girl, and I'm really sorry for her. Thinks I haven't given 
any sign of returning her affection, eh ? Poor little thing ! 
I'll have to be more considerate of her. Of course she is 
quite right about the sentiment not being mutual, but I 
can't see a girl like that suffer. 1 11 pay her a little more 
attention in the future, and I do hope she will get 
over her infatuation." 

It will be seen that careful self-examination 
and a studious reading of the note to Stewart had 
brought Mr. Montgomery to a position where he 
could not very well ignore the regrettable effect 
of his charm. 

" Now, about this letter," ran on the big bro- 
ker, " I can't very well send it to Stewart after the 
seal has been broken, and I don't feel like hand- 
ing it back to Miss Kildare, because the poor 
child would be frightfully embarrassed if she 
knew I had learned her feelings toward me. I 
fancy Stewart will be hanging around her, any- 
way, and will get his refusal orally." 

And with this reflection Mr. Montgomery 
stuffed the note in his pocket and strolled down 
toward the beach, where Miss Kitty might rea- 
sonably be expected to be found. 

About the time Mr. Montgomery, in the break- 
fast-room of The Twiggeries, was reading the 

rejection of .\lr. Donald Stewart, that rising young lawyer 
was performing a similar service tor Mr. Montgomery. 

"There is one thing to be said of her," admitted Mr. 
Stewart, after he had grasped the substance of the note 
and comprehended that the lady had made a mistake in 
the inclosures, "she is a girl of a good deal of sense. I 
am right glad she has sent that long-legged ass Mont- 
gomery about his business. Now as to this other refer- 
ence " 

The legal mind worked fast, the circumstantial evi- 
dence was strong, and the inevitable conclusion warranted 
Stewart in stealing a glimpse of his features in the dining- 
room mirror. 

"She's just like the rest of them," he thought on, with 
the petty vanity of a little man. " I can't pay them the 
slightest attention, but — oh, well, what's the use ? The 
damage is done now, and it is my place to undo it as far 
as I can by treating her ir. the manner best calculated to 
show her the case is hopeless. She will be wise enough 
to see that it is all for the best." 

Then another suggestion occurred to the apostle ot 
Blackstone. If he had in an envelope addressed to him a 
letter intended for Montgomery, it was logical to suppose 
that Montgomery had a letter intended tor Stewart, and 
the latter wondered what it was Miss Kildare had been 
writing him about. This he would ascertain, and then 
set about reconciling Miss Kildare to the renunciation she 
must make. As for Montgomery's letter, Stewart- would 
retain that. He was too good a lawyer to voluntarily part 
with important documentary evidence. Having settled 



' I drove a ball over in this direction. Did you see where it landed?" 
■ No ; but I can put my hand on the spot." 


these matters to his satisfaction, he climbed into a Hotel 
Hollyhock vehicle and was driven to the beach. 

Miss Kitty Kildare sat in her beach-chair, just at the 
^i\^ft of the arbor, tracing in the glistening white sand 
with the point of her parasol, the subjects being Cupids 
and hearts and doves, with due allowance for the lady's 
originality of conception and limitations of e.xecution. A 
few chairs away, pleasantly out of earshot, taking into ac- 
count the friendly murmur of the sea, Miss Kitty's aunt, 
Mildred, dozed luxuriously and decorously. Miss Kitty was 
not bathing, because one cannot be beautiful and bathe 
at one and the same time, no matter what the sentiment- 
alists maytell you. If you have hair and let it fall down 
your back, you will be a spectacle two minutes after the sea 
has drenched you. And if you confine your hair under 
one of those red, white, or blue rubber caps, the effect is 
not inspiring. It is far and away the part of wisdom to 
sit daintily on the beach, clad all in white, from ties to 
straw hat, looking as fresh as the morning and as cool as 
the waters of a mountain spring — that is, if there is a 
task before you requiring delicacy of handling. 

And, as a matter of fact, such a self-appointed task lay 
directly ahead of Miss Kitty Kildare, and even now ap- 
proached her, in the somewhat puffing person of good 
Master Donald Stewart. 

The young man gave an execrable imitation ot surprise 
at the sight of the all-white vision in the beach-chair, 
paused as if he reallv had been intending to pass on to the 
other end of the bathing-ground, and then remarked that 
the day was fine but a bit sticky. 

Miss Kildare explained that this was the humidity, and 
expressed the opinion that the proper place for water was 
in the sea and not in the air. Mr. Stewart agreed with 
this very reasonable view and was invited to sit beside 
Miss Kildare. 

" In fact," said the lady, " I have something to say to 
you. I alinost wrote you a note about it yesterday. I 
got as far as the envelope, then I thought I would wait 
until I saw you, for there really was no need of haste." 

" So she directed an envelope to hrie and it lay there 
when she had finished Montgomery's letter," thought Stew- 
art. "That accounts for it." Then he asked what had 
been the purport of the note that was never written. 

" Aunt is going to get up a yachting party for me," 
explained Miss Kildare, " and she doesn't know very much 
about these things, for nearly all her life has been spent 
in inland cities, where they do not yacht. And I don't 
know much about it, either. So we thought we would 
ask your advice, because everyone says you are such an 
experienced sailor." 

"She has noted every one of my likes and peculiari- 
ties," thought Stewart compassionately. "She is really 
a very pretty girl." Which utterly disconnected ideas 
were followed by his reply that he would consider the 
major domo-ing of Miss Kildare's yachting party the 
proudest privilege of his life. Miss Kildare thanked him 
very prettily and smiled, and Mr. Stewart noted that her 
teeth .were as milky and regular as the white keys on a 
piano. " See here, boy," counseled Mr. Stewart to him- 
self, "you've been losing a lot of time. This young lady 
is worth the most assiduous cultivation." 

Whereupon he made himself very agreeable, and in 
thus pleasing Miss Kitty immensely pleased himself, which 
is ever the aim of his kind. So absorbed, indeed, were 
the merry pair that they did not notice that for the last 
quarter of an hour Mr. Martin Montgomery had been 
stalking up and down the sand, casting now and again a 
furtive glance in their direction. 

" Silly little'shrimp," growled the broker ; " he wouldn't 
be laughing quite so heartily if he knew what I have in 
my pocket. And how well the girl carries it off. She 
must be surprised that Stewart has sought her out after 
she had dismissed him, but she is such a thoroughbred 
she accepts the situation with the greatest grace. J sup- 
pose she thinks Stewart has decided to accept the advice 
she gave him about friendship and all that. But I'll bet 
I wouldn't go hanging around a girl who had turned me 
down. But oh, lie doesn't know he's been refused," 
thought Montgomery, with a start. " Say, this is getting 
somewhat complicated. I wish he'd get through. . I want 
to talk to her myself. She looks glorious this morning. 
There, some one has called him away." 

And the coast being clear, Montgomery, without too 
much haste, made his way over to where Miss Kildare sat, 
a picture of demure serenity, with the possible exception 
of a light which danced out now and then from the glori. 
ous brown eyes and transformed her into a veritable imp 
of mischief. Kitty greeted the tall broker cordially, and 
expressed a growing belief in the hidden, the mystic, and 
the incomprehensible. . 

Said the sweet and single maiden, 

' ' Will you tell me, if you can, 
Why the lovingest of lovers 

Is no sooner wedded than 

He becomes the careless husband 

Of the niatrimonial plan?" 

" Oh, it is the marriage alter!" 
Said the bitter married man. 


'• Brother, why do you object to Christianity ?" 

" Because I 've always found it hard to keep a good man down." 

" Because," she said, " I was thinking of you at the 
very minute you appeared. Is that mental, telepathy, or 
thought transference, or Christian science, or what ?" 

" I don't know the scientific term," said Montgomery, 
with easy gallantry, " but I should unhesitatingly charac- 
terize it as delightful to be thought of by MisS' Kildare." 

" Yes, indeed," went on the lady, ignoring the compli- 
ment ; " I was thinking about you just now, and I was 
thinking about you yesterday. There was something I 
wanted to ask you about, and I even set out to write you 
a note. I got as far as the envelope, and then something 
distracted my attention." 

" That was hardly fair to me," suggested Montgomery. 

" It was a letter just handed me," said the girl, " an.d it 
required an early answer. When I remembered about 
you, I decided I would wait and speak to you, as I thought 
surely you would be on the beach." 

" With such an attraction," said Montgomery, " the 
beach ought to play to capacity. May I ask what it was 
you were going to ask me ?" 

"Why, you see," said the girl, "auntie and I want to 
get up an amateur theatrical entertainment for charity, 
and we don't know much about the details of manage- 
ment. Everybody says you're a splendid amateur stage 
manager, and we wanted to ask if you would take charge 
of the affair for us." 

" You are doing me a positive favor when you suggest 
it," said Montgomery warmly. And he added mentally, 
" How graceful she is ! she would make an ideal Juliet — 
and I should like to play Romeo to her !" 

Then they fell to discussing the plan, and were deep 
in the details when Stewart came hurrying away from 
the interrupting friends. 

"Well," he stormed, "just see that lumbering Mont- 
gomery paying attention to that pretty girl ! I never saw 
such assurance in my life. I fancy a sight of a certain 
letter would take the conceit jut of him." And the little 


lawyer walked over to the pair, because he was not going 
to resign any of his rights to a man who was not even a 

The gentlemen greeted each other with distant po- 
liteness, and the talk, perforce, became general. When 
Montgomery caught a darting glimpse from the big, 
brown eyes he read the message, " What an awful bore 
this little man is ; I wish he would go, so we could resume 
our intimate talk." And when the brown eyes favored 
Stewart with a swift, comprehending glance, he interpreted 
it, "Now, why couldn't that fellow have stayed away? 
We were having such a delightful time together." 

Neither gentleman showing signs of retreat, and the 
conversation by now having become practically a mono- 
logue by Miss Kildare, the situation was rapidly becom- 
ing strained, as they say in diplomatic circles, when Aunt 
Mildred providentially awakened, and the girl, excusing 
herself, hastened over to her relative. Then Mr. Mont- 
gomery strolled south along the beach and Mr. Stewart 
strolled north along the beach, and Miss Kitty Kildare 
explained to her aunt that they were going to have a de- 
lightful time, for Mr. Stewart was going to arrange a 
yachting party for them, and Mr. Montgomery would get 
up some amateur theatricals. 

The yachting party was a merry affair, particularly for 
Miss Kitty and Mr. Stewart. The latter was full of im- 
portance in his new flannels, and looked more than ever 
like a fat Brownie. He moved over the boat with an air 
of proprietorship, tenderly solicitous of the comfort of all 
the ladies, with an especial watchfulness as regarded the 
wants of Miss Kildare. 

Of all the party, Mr. Montgomery alone was 
gloomy. He stalked about like the ghost at the 
banquet, and experienced Cain-like feelings as he 
beheld the favor in which Stewart was esteemed. 
" Of course I'm not in love with the girl or anything 
like that," argued Montgomery, "but still I can't 
bear to see her wasting her time on that little 
apology for a man." 

In the blue and white of her yachting costume 
Miss Kitty looked ravishing, and there was small 
cause for wonder that she should be the centre of 
attraction. It was long before the chafing Mont- 
gomery could manage a word in private with her, 
and then, throwing caution to the breezes, he spoke 
freely of the situation. 

" I have been trying all day to get speech with 
you," he said, " but you have been so busy listening 
to what Mr. Stewart has been saying you haven't 
had time for any one else." 

" Oh, but you mustn't say anything against Mr. 
Stewart," said the girl gently. 

" Now, see here," said Montgomery masterfully, 
" you don't care for Stewart, and you know it." 

" But Mr. Stewart — ca — that is, Mr. Stewart is 
very nice to me, and you have to be nice to persons 
who are nice to you. don't you ?" 

"You mean Stewart cares for you," said Mont- 
gomery rapidly. " I know he does. But what then ? 
Others care for you, too." 

" Oh, I don't know," said Miss Kildare dreamily. 

"You do know," contradicted Montgomery. "You 
must know. Oh, Kitty, I " • 

"There," said Kitty, moving away, "my Aunt Mil- 
dred is calling me," and she left Montgomery savagely 
kicking an unoffending coil of rope. 

Next day Montgomery proposed, and was told to wait ; 
he should have his answer in a little while. And very 
impatiently he waited. The preparations for the theatri- 
cals helped some, just as again they combined to fill the 
soul of Montgomery with added anxiety. The rehearsals 
brought Kitty .very close to him, and of course this was 
most desirable, but at the same time there was the un- 
certainty. If Kitty should refuse him the present propin- 
quity would have been but an extra cause for regret. On 
the whole, however, Montgomery, in daily possession of 
Kitty, was in a position more enviable than was Stewart. 

The lawyer, since the day of the yachting party, had 
come to regard Kitty's affection for him as an understood 
thing, else why should she have elevated him as she had 
dono ? But now, here were these confounded theatricals 
coming on and taking up all her time, and throwing her 
constantly into the society of Montgomery. Finally Stew- 
art pocketed his pride and applied to the stage-manager 
for a place in the cast. 

" All right," said Montgomery cheerily, " I've got just 
the part left that will suit you." 

" What is it ?" asked Stewart eagerly. 

" Well, you know," said Montgomery, "in the second 
act there is a scene on the dock of an ocean liner. She is 
just about to sail away. There are a number of bearded 


" There's wan foine thing about this focmatic shpellin' — a man kin 
come home full as a goat an' wroite jist as siiisihle a siipelt letter as he 
kin whin he's sober." 

Fair maid, in all your many guises, 
In any hat, whate'er the size is, 
In winter garb, chic, tailur-shaped. 
Or summer frou-frou, gauzes, draped. 
Your charm ne'er fails. One thought arises- 
We wonder, wonder what the price is, 

And if we 

Could finance so much finery. 

the slightest' regard for grammar ; " me be a bearded old 
salt and let you knock me over the head ! You must 
think I'm crazy 1" and he walked away muttering strange 

"Now, there's an unreasonable fellow," murmured 
Montgomery; "give him a nice fat part that anybody 
would jump at the chance of playing, and what does he 
do? Goes up in the air. There's no pleasing some per- 

" Going to play the hero himself, is he ?" thought Mr. 
Stewart, smarting under his wrongs. " And that will 
give him the chance to make love to Kitty." For some 
time past Mr. Stewart had been thinking of Miss Kildare 
as " Kitty." " He doesn't seem to understand that his 
society is distasteful to the lady and that she loves an- 
other. And she, poor girl, thinking he knows her senti- 
ments, is just treating him with common politeness." 

Mr. Stewart's steps led him to the hotel where Miss 
Kildare and her aunt were staying, and though the young 
lady was very busy reading her part, she gave him an 
audience. Wasn't Mr. Stewart going to be in the play ? 

No ; Mr. Stewart wasn't going to be in the play. And 
without more ado Mr. Stewart gave it as his opinion that 
Mr. Montgomery, in the allotment of the parts, was guided 
less by motives of art than by considerations of crafti- 

" Now, please don't say such things," begged Miss 
Kildare. " Mr. Montgomery is a very nice man, I'm 
sure, and always doing things for people." 

" He may be always doing things for you," said Stew- 
art ; " but that is very easy to understand. But you don't 
care for him. I know you don't." 

" I don't see how you can know that," said Miss Kil- 
dare. " Besides, I have just told you I thought him very 
nice. " 

" Other persons would be glad to be always doing 
things for you," went on Mr. Stewart tenderly, and then 
his soul rushed forth, for he said, " Oh, Kitty, dear, they 
won't let me play the hero in this stupid little piece, but 
won't vou let me play it with you for ail time .'" 

" Are you asking me to marry you ?" queried Kitty. 

"Why, yes," said Stewart in some surprise. 

And he, too, was told to wait. 

old salts sitting on the string-piece. Just 
as the last warning whistle is being sound- 
ed the hero appears and dashes toward 
the gangplank. One of the old salts has 
risen to walk away, and the hero, in his 
rush to make the ship, collides with him 
and topples him over in the water." 

" Ah," said Mr. Stewart amiably, 
" my part is the hero, eh?" 

" Why, no," explained Mr. Montgom- 
ery ; " I have been cast for that part my- 
self. You are the old salt who gets top- 
pled over in the water. It's a splendid, 
comedy part and good for a big laugh." 

Mr. Stewart wondered if he had heard 

" Who, me ?" he sputtered, without 

FELLOW clTi2.eMi,i VrtweeFO' ME A VAST SEA OF 




' "+ ^ 

After the amateur theatricals each man was more hope- 
lessly in love than ever, and even Kitty began to experi- 
ence the qualms of pity. "Of course they deserved it," 
reasoned the girl, " but I think they've been punished 
sufficiently." So she wrote a note to Stewart, making an 
appointment at her hotel for three o'clock, and a similar 
note to Montgomery, appointing ten minutes past three as 
the time she would give her decision. Then, to carry the 
little comedy to a conclusion, she wrote two other notes 
and left them with the clerk at the desk, saying one was 
to be handed Mr. Stewart, and the other given to Mr. 
Montgomery when those gentlemen should call. The 
note to Mr. Stewart read : 

" At the last minute I find I cannot say to you what is 
in my mind, and I am going to ask you to speak with Mr. 
Montgomery when you see him. He will explain to you' 
certain things which have a direct bearing on your offer." 

The other note was the same, save for the transposi- 
tion of names. 

Mr. Stewart, promptly at three of the clock, appeared 
at the hotel, and was given the note by the clerk. He 
couldn't quite make out the meaning of the communica- 
tion and retired to a corner to re-read it. As he was puz- 
zling it out Montgomery hurried in, got his note and 
looked properly mystified. Then he caught sight of Stew- 
art in the corner, and advancing, opened the conversation 
in the most direct way. 

" Mr. Stewart," he said, " I have called to-day to get 
from Miss Kildare an answer to a question I asked her 
some time ago. I find a note from her saying you will 
give me that answer." 

A slow grin widened the cherubic face of Mr. Stewart 
as he listened. 

Then he said briefly, " I will," and he searched through 
his pockets till he found Miss Kildare's letter rejecting 
Mr. Montgomery. 


Montgomery read with a clouded brow. The commu- 
nication bore the date of a month ago. As he read Stew- 
art's grin grew even more expansive. " Now, you see," 
said that gentleman, the thought of the offer of the part of 
a bearded old sea-dog strong upon him, "now you see why 
Miss Kildare can't marry you." 

" I don't know how you got hold of a letter addressed 
to me," said Montgomery, "and I don't understand why 
the date " 

" Don't try to," advised Stewart. " But see here ; Miss 
Kildare has also written me that if I ask you, you can tell 
me something about her sentiments toward me." 

" Oh, yes," said Montgomery slowly ; " for a minute I 
had forgotten. Maybe you will be interested in reading 
this," and he handed the lawyer Miss Kildare's rejection 
of the month before. 

For fully five minutes the men sat and stared, then, 
" Stewart," said Montgomery, " there's a train into town at 
four-fifteen. I think I'll take it. Do you want to come 
along ?" 

"I'll go you," said Mr. Stewart, and they left the hotel 

Modern Therapeutics. 

I WENT to a modern doctor to learn what it was was wrong. 
I'd lately been off my fodder, and life was no more a song. 
He felt of my pulse as they all do, he gazed at my outstretched 

tongue ; 
He took off my coat and weskit and harked at each wheezing 

He fed me a small glass penstalk with figures upon the side. 
And this was his final verdict when all of my marks he'd spied : 

" Do you eat fried eggs? Then quit it. 

You don't? Then hurry and eat 'em, 
Along with some hay that was cut in May — 

There are no other foods to beat 'em. 
Do you walk ? Then stop instanter — 

For exercise will not do 
For people with whom it doesn't agree — 
And this is the rule for you : 
Just quit whatever you do do 

And begin whatever you don't ; 
For what you don't do may agree with you 
As whatever you do do don't." 

Yea, thus saith the modern doctor, "Tradition be double durnedl 
What the oldsters knew was nothing compared to tlie things we've 

There's nothing in this or that thing that's certain in every case 
Any more than a single bonnet 's becoming to every face. 
It's all ni the diagnosis that tells us the patient's fix — 
The modern who knows his business is up to a host of tricks. 

Do you eat roast pork? Then stop it. 

You don't? Then get after it quickly. 
For the long-eared ass gives the laugli to grass 

And delights in the weed that's prickly. 
Do you sleep with the windows open ? 

Then batten them good and tight 
And swallow the same old fetid air 

Through all of the snoozesome night. 
Just quit whatever you do do 

And do whatever you don't ; 
For what you don't do may agree with you 
As whatever you do do don't." 




THEY had quarreled. The cold steel shaft from the arc- 
light penetrated the shadows of the porch and showed 
that she had been weeping. As for him, big, broad-shoul- 
dered brute ! he chewed fiercely on his black cigar and 
gazed sullenly into the darkness. She was the first to 

'• I will never marrj' you now — oh, no, if you should 
beg me on your knees ! I hate you !" 

" And I shall never forgive you — no, not even when 
my bones bleach in the dust and snails crawl through my 

" Ugh ! You are horrible —you are callous !" 

" It is such women as you that make men callous." 

" And it is such brutes as you that make women indif- 
ferent to everything. I shall never speak to you again !" 

" Very well. I shall feel free." 

" Oh, how I hate you !" 

" Pray do not overtax your emotions on my account." 

" My emotions ? I have no emotions. I am absolutely 
without feeling, and you have made me so." 

••That's right. Just like a woman — blame the man for 

'• Man ? I hope you do not call yourself a man ?" 

•' Well, no. Perhaps I am only an apology for a man." 

'• And to think I once allowed myself to love an apology 
for a man !" 

"Well, come to think of it, you were very willing to 
accept an apology." 

"I would resent your insults, but I have taken a vow 
never to speak to you again. Now remember— never 
again !" 

Ten minutes of silence ensued ; then he spoke. 

•• Helen !" 

" You dare to have the face to speak to me after all 
that ?" 

"Yes. Er — the drug-store down the street has a new 

" What have I to do with that ?" 


•• And it looks just like a Greek temple." 

•• Well ?" 

" And they have twenty-four different flavors." 


"Will — will you come down^ Helen, and — and have a 
glass on me ?" 

She thought of the Greek temple, and visions of the 
twenty-four flavors flitted through her mind and drove 
away the tears. 

"Yes, George," she whispered as she crept closer; 
'• but — but remember, I shall never speak to you again — . 
no, never !" 

And the moon came out from behind a cloud and swain 

in the open blue. victor a. Hermann, 

Rather. I 

"THE prediction having failed dismally, the ancient Ro- 
mans were cackling merrily upon the Appian Way. 

" Don't tell me !" shrilled one. " These newfangled 
ways of predicting things may be scientific, but this goes 
to show that even science has its faults." 

" It occurs to me," observed Claudius Comedius, "that 
if this sort of thing keeps up it will put the augur in the 
hole, so to speak." 

Didn't Wish To Be Disturbed. 

Mistress — " I am sorry to trouble you, Bridget, but my 
husband wants his breakfast to-morrow at five-thirty." 

Cook — " Oh, it won't be no throuble at all, mum, if he 
don't knock nothin' over whoile cookin' it an' wake 
me up." 

His Reason. 

Johnny — " Mamma, when I grows up I wants to be a 


Mother — " Oh, you darling ! And why ?" 

Johnny — "Why, I was reading that boys never gro.vs 

up to be what they wants to be." 

Little Willie's Surprise. 

recently moved from the 
city to the suburbs. The first 
night in their new home their 
five-year-old son climbed into 
bed as soon as he was un- 

•' Willie," said his mother, 
" haven't you forgotten to say 
your prayers ?" 

" Why, mamma," he re- 
plied, " is God 'way out here, 
too ?" 


Boy — " Pop, what's a bachelor?" 

Pop — " A bachelor, my son. is a man whom nature has set up as a shining example of 
what good luck can do for an individual." 

New Yorker — " What's 
the use of running ? You say 
the train never leaves on time." 

Suburbanite — " It would 
if we walked." 


Wa^^lcy's White Elephant 

By Will S. Gidlcy 

WAGGLEY gave a gasp of surprise. 
Scarcely could he credit the mes- 
sage that his optic nerve sent flashing 
to the brain. 
Again he scrutinized the narrow 
strip of paper that had fallen from the 
envelope and was lying before him, 
face upward on his desk. 

Yes ; wildly improbable as it seemed, he had read the 
figures aright. The check was for one thousand dollars — 
whew ! just think of it ! — an even thousand dollars, " in 
payment (as the accompanying note ran) of prize awarded 
to your delightfully clever little story entitled, ' The 
Bumptiousness of John Q. Bump. 

Waggley picked up the check and carefully examined 
the back of it as if fearing he might find written thereon 
a line explaining that it was all a joke — a piece of " All 
Fools' Day " humor. 

But no ; although the date was April ist the back of the 
check bore no jocular explanatory inscription, no merry 
"April fool, ha, ha!" or other seasonable witticism, but 
still remained in unsullied purity, awaiting only the hiero- 
glyphics that stood for the signature of Willis J. Waggley 
to make it negotiable for its face value of one thousand 

As he gazed enraptured upon this pleasing document 
Waggley 's mouth expanded in a smile so broad and so 
Hoosac tunnel-like in its general tout ensemble that his 
ears actually seemed to shrink back as if in alarm at their 
possible fate. 

Presently his pent-up emotions found vent in speech. 
" Haw, haw, haw !" he roared with a voice like a fog- 
horn on a February morning. " That was a lucky Bump 
for me. Well, I should smile !" And he did — the sort of 
a smile t-hat declines to come off. See description above. 
" Yes, indeed ; I bumped the bumps to some purpose that 
time. Just think of it — one thousand big, cart-wheel dol- 
lars, and all in one wad at that, for a twenty-five-hundred- 
word story about my old friend, John O. Bump and his 
load of bumptiousness! Mighty fine thing I discovered 
Bump first. Why, at that rate he'll be a regular Klon- 
dike. Hurrah for Bump ! Hip, hip,' hurrah !" 

In the exuberance of his joy Waggley got up from his 
desk and essayed a handspring. It had been several 
years since he had attempted a feat of this sort, therefore 
it was not to be wondered at that the venture was not 
wholly a success. 

As it was, Waggley raked the mantel clear of bric-&- 
brac, both ornamental and useful, with his feet, and then 
came to the floor with a crash that shook the building 
and brought the landlady up stairs on a jump to see what 
had happened. 

" For mercy's sake !" she ejaculated, opening the door 
and sticking her head inside. "Why, Mr. Waggley, 
what does this performance mean ? Really, I am aston- 
ished and shocked to see you in this condition." 

" What condition ? What do you mean ?" demanded 
Waggley, struggling bravely to his feet and facing the 
landlady, with the expansive smile still illuminating his 
countenance in spite of his downfall. " Appearances are 
frequently deceptive, Mrs. Flapjack, and they never were 
more so than they are in the present instance. I am not 
drunk, Mrs. Flapjack, as you doubtless imagine — that is, 
not in the ordinary and vulgar acceptation of the term. 
Oh, no ; I'm simply intoxicated with joy. I've just re- 
ceived a thousand-dollar check from the Magnet for one 
of my stories, and — eh ? what's that ?" 

But Waggley's landlady had hastily backed out of the 
room and was on her way down stairs shaking her head 
and muttering, 

" Crazy as a loon ! Poor fellow, I feel sorry for him, 
but with his imagination he ought to write better fiction 
than he does. I think I see him getting a thousand dol- 
lars for one of his stories. Ten dollars would be more 
like it. But he'll pay for the things he's smashed, just 
the same, when he settles his board bill Saturday night." 

And he did. But that is only a detail and has nothing 
to do with the rest of the story. 

" How will you have it ?" asked the paying-teller of 
the 'Steenth National Bank when Waggley loomed up at 
his window the next day and presented the Check for pay- 

" Big bills, please — the bigger the better," responded 
Waggley, with a complacent smile. 

The paying-teller smiled, too, as he reached over, and, 
picking up a single bill from a pile of crisp bank-notes, 
handed it through the wicket to his waiting customer. 

"That big enough for you ?" he queried with a sar- 
castic chuckle. 

"Just right," was the response. "What I was look- 
ing for exactly. Don't care for a lot of chicken feed to 
lug around. When I have money I want it in one lump, 
so I can take care of it without too much exertion. Be- 
sides, I've got just a few friends I'd like to astonish. 
Guess their eyes will look like Bermuda onions when I 
flash this bill on them." 

As Waggley passed out of the bank he felt as if he 
were walking on air. Permeating his being was a curi- 
ous sense of elation — a sort of independent, millionairy feel- 
ing, such as Pierpont Morgan or John D. Rockefeller 
might be suppo'sed to have, as they sit comfortably en- 
sconced on their towering pyramid of dollars and com- 
placently gaze down on the struggling masses below (he 

toilers who labor with their hands for a living. 

At best, man — the ordinary, two-legged man — is a 
strange creature, a poor, weak atom of humanity, the 
helpless victim of his own vagrant moods and impulses, 
" pleased with a I'attle and tickled with a straw," as the 
divine William expresses it. 

Queer what a difference a little strip of paper with a 
few figures and other printed matter on it makes in one's 
outlook on life ! Still, it is not so much to be wondered at 

after all. An author with a thousand-dollar check in his 
pcKket — received as compensation lor one short story — 
can afford to be cheerful. 

Waggley was not only cheerful, but beaming. Some 
men, under the circumstances, would have been tempted 
to incarnadine the town, but Waggley did his painting 
only in fancy. To his pleased and glowing imagination 
everything now possessed a roseate hue, and he saw Fame 
and Fortune (both with a big F, Mr. Compositor, if you 
please !) almost within his grasp — or at least not over a 
mile and a half away. 

At this auspicious moment ^Vaggley ran into an old 
friend and fellow-author named Beazley — Junius. Brutus 
Beazley, for long. Ought to have been an actor with that 
tag on him, but he wasn't. He belonged to the Joke- 
Wrights' Union and wiote chopped-off witticisms and so- 
ciety verse for the periodicals and a living, sometimes 
making as much as fifteen per — per day understood, o' 

" Hello, Wagg !" greeted Beazley. " How's everything ?" 

•'Never better," responded Waggley. " Just raked in 
a thousand-dollar prize for a short story." 

" That's right ; tell a good one while you're about it,' 
said Beazley jealously. " But, say, Wagg, what's the use 
of stopping at a measly thousand ? Why not make it five 
and have done with it ? You are altogether too modest." 

"Yes," admitted Waggley; "modesty is one of my 
strong points, and truthfulness is another. I said a thou- 
sand dollars because that is the correct amount of the 
bonus received in payment for my literary bantling, and, 
furthermore, I happen to be provided with the documents 
necessary to prove my assertion. How does this one 
strike you, for instance ?" 

Here Waggley yanked the thousand-dollar bill from 
his pocket and dangled it in front of Beazley 's astonishing 
optics. " Speechless, eh ? I thought you would be," 
gloated Waggley. " That's what I'm carrying this bill 
around for — to astonish my friends and confound my ene- 
mies. Oh, I'll get slathers of enjoyment out o 
sand-dollar shinplaster yet before I part 
with it." 

And he did, after a fashion. 

In fact, Waggley put in the most of his 
time for the next few days extracting en- 
joyment, or attempting to, at least, from 
that pleasing specimen of government 
lithography. He worked at it so con- 
stantly and persistently that he made a 
paripatetic nuisance of himself, and it 
finally got so that his friends and acquaint- 
ances would promptly vanish around the 
comer to avoid meeting him when they 
saw him coming. 

The fun palled on Waggley, too, after 
a while, and he stopped showing the bill to 
anyone except himself. 

It seemed "good to look at it once in a 
while, though the feeling of elation over 
its possession no longer kept him awake 

One day, greatly to Waggley 's surprise. 

when he opened his pocket-book, he found he had only a 
solitary nickel in cash left outside of that thousand-dollar 
greenback. The surprise gave way to a feeling of annoy- 
ance and disgust when he reflected that he waS at that 
moment twenty miles from a bank where he could get a 
bill of that denomination changed, and that he was aboard 
of a trolley-car which was carrying him still farther away 
as rapidly as possible. 

He was, as it happened, on his way to Pineville Junc- 
tion, in the wilds of Westchester county, to hunt up a sum- 
mer boarding-place. It would require two more five- 
cent fares to carry him through to his destination ; and 
somehow Waggley couldn't help wondering what he was 
going to do when his last nickel was gone. 

True, he had the thousand-dollar bill, but if the con- 
ductor didn't drop dead from heart disease at the sight ot 
it he would probably decline to change a bill of that size ; 
or, if he did change it, he would give him all dimes and 
nickels, and then he w-ould be worse off than ever. 

W'aggley was still frantically clawing around in his 
mind in search of some way out of the rapidly-approach- 
ing dilemma, when the conductor came through the car 
and halted in front of him, with extended palm. 

" Fare, please." 

Waggley handed over his final nickel. 

" Going through to the Junction ?" demanded the con- 

Waggley g^ve a guilty start. 

" Why — er — yes ; I expect to if nothing happens," stam- 
mered the flustered Waggley. 

" Cost you five cents more, then. Might as well pay it 
now and save me the trouble of coming around again 

after it 

as possible." 

Two high-balls, sir? Yes, sir." 

And say, waiter, just make those high-balls as wide 

f ¥ 7 

" I'm sorry," said Waggley apologetically, " but— er — 
I'll either have to hang you up for a nickel until I see you 
again or let you change a big bill." 

" You can't hang me up fer no nickel, mister ; I'll tell 
you that to start with," growled the conductor. " I can't 
afford any luxuries of that kind on my salary. Trot out 
your bill. If it ain't anything more than a sawbuck I can 
cover it all right." 

Waggle^- took the thousand-dollar bill from his purse, 
carefully unfolded it and offered it to the collector of 

•' Holy smoke !" erupted that individual. " Do you 
think I am running a United States sub-treasury on 
wheels ? Imagine I've got all my pockets stuffed with 
ten- and twenty-dollar bills ? Got an idea that I'm a 
William K. Vanderbilt or a George Gould running a trol- 
ley-car fer the benefit of my health ? Take me fer a Wall- 
street syndicate ? Hey, what ? And how do I know but 
what your old government chromo is a counterfeit, any- 
how ?" 

" I'm sorry — er " 

" Mebbe you be," interrupted the conductor. " But 
that won't save you from hoofing it the rest of the way to 
PineviUe Junction all the samey, unless you cough up an- 
other nickel. You've paid to Shadyside, and that's where 
you climb off or git the g. b., and I'll give you e.xactly two 
seconds to take your pick which it's going to be after we 
git there. Understand ?" 

Waggley intimated that he did. And when the car 
made its next stop and the conductor shouted, " All out 
for Shadyside !" he hastily gathered up his gripsack and 
umbrella and dropped off. 

After the car had passed on out ot sight Waggley 
began to take stock of his surroundings. Shadyside was 
only a small village, consisting of some twenty or thirty 
buildings all told, one of which was a general store, and 
another a rather lonesome-looking railroad station, size 

" Mighty interesting time of it trying to get a thousand- 
dollar bill changed in this town, I imagine," remarked 
Waggley as he gazed gloomily up and down the street. 
" Guess twenty would be nearer the size. Money is a 
mighty handy thing to have with you when you are trav- 
eling, but not in quite such large-sized chunks. Here I 
am with a thousand-dollar bank-note in my pocket and 
I've got to walk the rest of the way to Pineville Junction 
because I can't pay my car-fare ! 

" Talk about the fix old Midas found himself in with 
his golden touch ! I don't see but what I'm just about as 
badly off as he was ; I can't buy even a nickel's worth of 
transportation with this bill, and no doubt if I were on the 
verge of starvation I might stay there or go ahead and 
starve to death for all the assistance this piece of paper 
would be to me. 

" I felt rather proud of my thousand-dollar bill when I 
first began carrying it around and exhibiting it to my 
friends, but it's a mighty lucky thing for me I never hap- 
pened to show it when the fool-killer was around, or I'd 
been a goner ! 

"Seven dusty miles from my destination and nothing 
smaller than a thousand-dollar William. Great Peters ! 

what a fix to be in ! I wonder, if I called a mass-meeting 
of the citizens of this delightful burgh, whether the entire 
crowd would be able to furnish change for this confounded 
bill .? Probably not. The only thing to do is to walk 
and pretend that I like it." 

And walk he did, reaching Pineville Junction two 
hours and a half later, footsore, travel-stained and dis- 

There was only one hotel in the place, a big, rambling 
structure known as the Wayside Inn. To this inviting 
hostelry Waggley wearily wended his way. 

"Best room in the house and a warm bath !" he lacon- 
ically ordered after making the usual picture of a picket- 
fence struck by lightning on the register. 

"Correct," said the clerk. " No. 19, the bridal cham- 
ber and bath-room adjoining, Js yours. Five dollars in 
advance, please." 

" I wasn't figuring on occupying your bridal chamber, 
exactly, all by my lonesome on this trip, but I guess I can 
stand it all right. Just take your change out of that !" 
and Waggley shoved that thousand-dollar bill across the 
counter with the air of a man who has collateral to incin- 

The clerk picked up the bill and glanced at the denom- 
ination. Then he gave a sudden start, looked up sharply 
at Waggley and remarked, 

" Er — um — nothing smaller ?" 
Waggley truthfully replied that he hadn't. 
" Er — um — excuse me just a moment, please," and 
the clerk turned to his desk, picked up a newspaper, hur- 
riedly scanned its pages until his eye alighted on a cer- 
tain paragraph, which he carefully went over line by line, 
glancing at Waggley occasionally as he did so. 

Just as that gentleman began to manifest signs of im- 
patience the clerk once more came to the front with the 

" Er — um^ — sorry to keep you waiting, but " 

Here he made a quick dive under the counter and as 
quickly bobbed up again, and the next second Waggley 
found himself looking down the barrel of a Colt's .44 and 
heard the crisp and business-like command, 
" Throw up your hands !" 
Waggley hurriedly obeyed. 

" Don't shoot !" he begged, holding both hands as 
high above his head as possible. " That's '&11 the money 
I've got, so there's no use of killing me. Good Lord I 
what kind of a high-handed (the pun was purely acci- 
dental on Waggley's part) proceeding is this, anyhow ? 
Can't you rob your customers fast enough in the regular 
way without holding them up with a gun ?" 

"That's all right," said the clerk coolly, still keeping 
Waggley covered with his artillery. " I know what I'm 
about. And when it comes to a hold-up I reckon you 
ain't no amateur at it yourself. Pretty slick job you put 
through up in Connecticut the other night. Oh, you 
needn't put on an innocent look ! I knew you were one 
of the gang as soon as I caught sight of this thousand- 
dollar bill. Look out, there ! Don't go to dropping your 
hands or reaching for your popgun. Put "em up, higher 
yet ! That's right ! Now march over to that arm-'chair 
at your left and sit down ; and be sure to keep your hands 

up until I tell you different — that is, unless you're anxious 
to head a small but select funeral procession about day 
after to-morrow." 

Not having any aspirations in that direction, Waggley 
hastily'complied with the orders of the gentleman with 
the gun, in the meantime dazedly wondering what was 
going to happen next. 

He was not kept long in suspense. 

Calling in one of his assistants, a thick-set, phlegmatic 
individual who answered to the name of Mike, the clerk 
ordered him to procure a stout rope and bind Waggley 
hand and foot. " And be sure to make a thorough job 
of it, too," he ordered. " He's a dangerous character." 

"Sure an' he looks it !" commented Mike, glowering 
at the unfortunate Waggley, who, still seated as he was 
in the arm-chair, with both hands extended toward the 
ceiling, looked about as dangerous as a frightened sheep. 
'• What's the red-handed villain been doin', anyhow^ 
settin' fire to an orphan-asylum, or only murderin' his 
mother-in-law ?" 

" Not quite as bad as that, Mike, but he is a desperate 
character just the same. He is one of the gang of bur- 
glars that cleaned out the bank up at Farmersville, Connect- 
icut, the other night. Among the money stolen was a 
package of thousand-dollar bills, the paper says, and I've 
no doubt this chap has got his clothes lined with bills ot 
that denomination this very minute. He just attempted 
to pass one of them on me, but he put his foot in a trap 
that time. As soon as I s aw that bill I suspected righ 
away who he was and proceeded to capture him. There 
is a reward of three thousand dollars offered for the arrest 

" May I say a word ?" interrupted Waggley meekly. 

" Not till I get through !" 

" Perhaps I can explain if you will allow me." 

" You'll have a chance when the officers get here. 
That will be time enough, I guess. Got him securely 
tied, Mike ?" 

" Sure thing ! A couple more twists of this rope and 
he won't know himself from a bale of hay." 

" All right ; you can stand guard over him vvhile I tele- 
phone to the sheriff Don't want to take any chances on 
letting that reward slip through my fingers. I need that 
three thousand dollars in my business." 

It was beginning to look pretty dark for Waggley, and 
he probably would soon have been haled away to a West- 
chester county dungeon, there to languish until he had 
proved his innocence, were it not for the fact that at this 
psychological moment (it may seem like stretching the 
possibilities, but fact is ever stranger than fiction !) a 
motor-car bearing the paying-teller of the 'Steenth Na- 
tional Bank, of New York City, rolled up to the door of 
the Wayside Inn, and that official, who, luckily for Wag- 
gley. chanced to be taking a day's outing, dismounted and 
casually strolled into the very room where Mr. W. was 
being held a prisoner. 

Waggley sat up and fairly barked with joy to see him. 

" Hello, Mac !" he exclaimed — the teller's name was 
McBride — "just tell this raving lunatic of a hotel clerk 
who 1 am and how I happened to have a thousand-dollar 
bill in my possession. You remember that prize check 

you cashed for me a spell ago? Well, I've got that bill 
you gave me yet, and just because I attempted to pass it 
on our friend here he takes me for one of the Farmersville 
bank robbers and is holding me for a reward." 

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" roared McBride. " Pretty good joke 
that. But do you mean to say you've been carrying that 
altitudinous hill around all this time, wearing it out and 
drawing no interest on the money ?" 

" Yes." 

" Well, if that is the case you're a — a " 

"I know what you're going to say: I'm a bigger 
chump than the chap who took me for a bank-burglar ! 
Correct. I admit it. I'm as many kinds of a durn fool as 
anybody chooses to call me — at least, I have been, but I 
think I am getting over it. In fact, I know I am. And 
now, if you will take that thousand-dollar chromo off my 
hands and give me small change for it I'll never get into a 
scrape of this kind again as long as my name is Wag- 

And up to the present date, be it recorded, Waggley 
has faithfully kept his promise. 

The City Bard Speaks. 

pvE.\R reader (if you read at all), 
^^ Can you the good old days recall — 
The dear old farm in winter time ? 
The jelly and the pickled lime? 
The lowing of the bossy cow ? 
The farm-hand with his cheery "How?" 
And mother in the kitchen bak- 
ing pies "like mother used to make " ? 
The general store where were for sale 
Dry goods and wet, and where the mail 
Cime every day at half-past three — 
Long ere the days of R. F. D. ? 
The village cut-up, village band ? 
The miles and miles of fertile land ? 
The postmaster, the blacksmith, eke 
Some things of which I cannot speak? 
For I don't know the proper thing 
For reminiscent bards to sing. 
And I was not born in a small 
Old burg, and I cannot recall 
The things the poet says of it 
When he is out to make a hit 
Alas ! born in a monster city, 
I can't indite a rural ditty ; 
I cannot make the tear-drop come 
By bringing up " The Dear Old Hum." 

These and more things I cannot do. 
But, then, I don't much care. 

Do you ? 


Proof Positive. 

The detective — " This is a plain case of suicide. " 
The-corcner — " How do you know ?" 
The detective — " Why, here in his hand is the bill for 
his wife's Easter hat." 

An Easy Mark. 

Howell — " Did that fellow who wanted you to invest 
have a sure thing, as he claimed ?" 
Powell — " Yes ; I was it." 

(b I 

" I think she'll go just lovely !" cried little Bobby Carter. 

A Misunderstanding. 

" IVIO, Bobby," said mother ; "it is not right 

* ^ To whine or cry or pout. 
An angry boy is a shocking sight — 

I don't want one about. 

" Now, when you're angry don't scream or roar — 
I won't have growls and grunts. 
You may go to your room and shut your door, 
And stamp your foot just once." 

When next Bobby felt his temper flare 

He flew to his room and put, 
With most extraordinary care, 

A postage-stamp on his foot ! 


The Englishman's Jest. 

THE Englishman was a good fellow. He was fully aware 
of his own shortcomings in the matter of the American 
joke, but not quite able to apply any remedy that lay at 
hand for the removal of the cause of the trouble. 

His American chum was as typical of the witty Yankee 
as the Englishman was of the dense Briton. 

One day, when they two were together and none others 
near, the American sprung that little bit of near-doggerel : 

" I had a little bird ; his name was Enza. 
I opened the door and in flew Enza." 

The Englishman saw the point instantly, and was 
greatly pleased with himself thereat. Over and over again 
he repeated to himself, " Influenza, influenza. I'll jolly 
well remember that good one, now. Influenza, influenza. 
Really the deucedest best bit I've heard on this side, 

The next day, when starting with his American friend 
to a pink tea or some other such solemn function, the Brit- 
isher turned to his friend and said. 

" Oh, I say, old chep ; when they get to telling their 
riddles and their conundrums and their other bally bits of 
nons'nse this awfternoon, won't you be good enough to 
let me — aw — spring that bit you gave me yesterday about 
the bloomin' bird, y'know ? There's a good chep." 

" Sure !" said the American, yielding the point cheer- 
fully and with malicious hopefulness. 

As the afternoon wore on the foolishest stage of the 
event came, and conundrums were actually opened up. 
How much the American friend of the Englishman had 
to do with steering the conversation into that channel he 
only knows. 

At length, in a lull, the Briton piped uji, '• Oh, I say, 
now ! Did you ever hear this one : 

" ' I had a bit of a bird ; his nime was — aw — aw — what was the 
bally beast's nime, now? Uh, yes! His nime was 

.\nd every time I opened the door to his cage 

Lagrippe !' " 

The only p.erson present who reaily enjoyed the jest and 
laughed at it with unaffected and intelligent heartiness was 
the Britisher's American friend. But perhaps he enjoved 
it enough for the whole company. s. w. g. 


♦* IVJOW, children," said an enthusiastic teacher, "John- 
nie has spelled ' mite ' correctly and told us that 
it is a very small object. Can any little boy remember 
where mite is mentioned in the Bible ?" 

One small hand was raised and a small voice said, 
" The pen is miteier than the sword." 

His Motto. 

Well-diggeir — " Now, we have found a mighty good vein 
of water, but there is nothing like being doubly safe and 
sure of the supply. Suppose we dig it, say, twenty feet 
deeper .■■" 

Owner — " No. I have always had for my motto, ' Let 
well enough alone. '" 

2. A L.'^ND-BREEZE. 
But she began to sail like "sixty" before he reached the water. 



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His One Failing. 

1 4 THERE'S one thing 1 don't like about Jones." 
' "What is it?" 

" Why, the infernal, half-witted, illiterate slob is always 
calling somebody names." 

Just So. 

COME men are born great, some achieve greatness, and 
of the others about one in every 1,000,000,000,000,- 
000,000 has greatness thrust upon him. 

The Gift of Speech. 

Lady — "You said this parrot had the gift of speech. 
He does nothing but holler and shriek and say nothing." 
Dealer — " I meant de gift uv ' political speech,' lady." 

Nipped in the Bud. 

Jones — " Yes, I intended to buy that shore hotel ; but 
I went down there and stayed a week to look it over, 
and " 

Smith — " Yes ?" . 

Jones — "And after* paying my bill I no longer had 
the price of the hotel." 

The Other Way About. 

Fidgety commuler — "Say, conductor, these everlast- 
ing stops drive a nervous person crazy." 

Cool conductor — "So.' I had only noticed that they 
made crazy people nervous." 

The way a miss can fool a mister is a mystery. 

"Is Grace very much in love ?" 
"Terribly. Her first affair, you know. 

Di^sby and a Button 

•By Morris Wade 

WHERE will I find buttons ?" 
Digsby asked the question with all 
the respect the size and good looks of 
the floor-walker demanded from such 
a small and homely man as Digsby 

" Which ?" replied the floor-walker, 
looking down on the little man in a patronizing way. 

" Buttons. Where will I find buttons ?" 

" In the annex." 

" And where is the anne.x ?" 

" Third aisle to the left, down to end of aisle and turn 
to left. Annex right ahead of you through the arch." 

Digsby tried to follow these directions but found him- 
self so balled up that he had to say to a second floor- 
walker, bigger, better-looking and more toplofty than the 

1. Where will I find buttons, please ?" 

"Buttons ?" 

" Yes — buttons." 

" Second aisle — left ! What is it, lady ? Small-wares ? 
Fourth right." 

A cash-girl, with a huge wad of white gum momen- 
tarily at anchor between her teeth and displayed to the 
public, finally led Digsby to the button-counter, where he 
took a small steel button from the vest pocket into which 
his wife had slipped it that morning. Showing 
it to a young woman behind the counter with a 
pompadour nine inches high and a dog-collar of 
pearls and diamonds, he asked, 

" Have you any buttons like this ?" 

She took the button into her jeweled hand, 
looked at it and handed it back to Digsby saying, 

" Third lady down the aisle." 

The " third lady down the aisle " extended 
her hand languidly for the button and said, 

" Other end of the counter — the lady in the 
red-silk waist and gold chain." 

" I was told I would find buttons like this 
here," said Digsby as he glanced at a near-by 
clock and realized that he had but fifteen minutes 
in which to make his purchase and get his train. 

" You was told wrong then. We been re- 
arranging stock, an' them kind o' buttons is up 
at the other end o' the counter now." 

Then her voice cut the air like a two-edged 
blade as she shrieked, 

" Mame ! Oh, Mame ! The gent comin' 
wants some o' them smallish steel buttons we 
moved up to your end o' the counter yesterday." 

" I got a customer !" screamed Mame. 

" Well, git some o' the others to git a move 
on 'em then I He wants to git his train !" 

Mame took the button, eyed it an instant, and 

" You sure you got that button here ?" 

" My wife said she got it here." 

" Here, Sadie ! See if you can find a button like this 
for this gent. Says he got it here, but I don't remember 
any such buttons !" 

Sadie took the button. 

" When did she get it here ?" she asked. 

"I don't know just when. I only know that she said 
she got it here." 

" Not recent I don't think. Kitty ! you remember of 
us having any buttons like this ?" 

She gave the button a fling over the heads of the three 
girls between herself and Kitty, who failed to catch the 

" Whyn't you ketch it, gump ?" 

" I ain't no base-ballist to ketch things on the fly ! I 
dunno where it went." 

"It can't be far. Look for it," said Sadie with calm 

" I want to get a train and " 

" Scurry around and find that button, Kit. The gen- 
tleman wants to git a train !" 

Kitty finally found the button. 

" I sold the last button we had down here like this just 
a few minutes ago, but there may be some in the stock- 
room. I'll see." 

Then she beat a fierce tattoo on the counter with the 

Professor Fiddlestix has a new string band. 


end of her lead-pencil, and her voice had the penetrating 
power of a fog-horn as she shouted, 

" Mister Gray ! Mister Gray ! Mister Gray ! Here 
you, Cash ! Go and find Mister Gray and tell him I want 
him !" 

Digsby lost his train while waiting for " Mister Gray," 
who was head of that department. To him said Kitty, 

" Will you send some one up to the stock-room and 
see if we have any more buttons like this ? Think we 
have. The gentleman is in a hurry." 

Fifteen minutes pass and the next train will leave in 
fifteen minutes more. 

" I don't think that I can wait any longer," said 
Digsby. " I will come in again and " 

" There she comes now. Hurry up, here, girl ! Slow 
as molasses in January. They got any buttons like that 
up there ?" 

" No ; they ain't." 

" Well, you needn't 'a' been forever an' a day finding 
it out !" 

" Let me have the sample I gave you," said Digsby, 
but the girl did not produce it. 

" Whyn't you give the gentleman his sample ?" asked 
Kitty icily. 

The cash-girl looked embarrassed and then tittered, and 
thrusting a finger into her mouth, said, 

" I was carryin' it in my mouth and I — -I — well, I swal- 
lered it !" 

" Ain't you turrible !" said Kitty with a grin, although 
she said tartly, 

" I'll tell the floor-walker, you see if I don't. Sorry I 
can't give you your button, sir, but" 

She grinned and Digsby fled, saying, 

" I'll call again — er — no — it's of no consequence !" 

Her Little Hint. 

"THE full moon flooded the porch with shafts of steel-blue 
rays. It was late, but he showed no signs of de- 

" It has been said," he remarked dreamily, " that the 
moon is dead." 

" Is that any reason," she inquired with a yawn, " why 
we should sit up with the corpse ?" 

Some Curious Effects of the Boom in Ice Prices. 

li/E WENT over to the " parlor " across the way and 
called for a " brick " of mixed, and put down the 
price we had paid always before. The young lady 
chirped, " Five cents more, please." We asked why and 
wherefore. " Ice has gone up," she said. Ah, yes, so. 
Ice up from three dollars to five dollars a ton, ice-cream 
from thirty-five to forty cents a quart. Exactly. This led 
us to investigate. We found the following facts — approx- 
imately, allowing something, of course, to a deep inward 
activity of feeling : Our beef went up because of increased 
refrigeration cost. A bunch of radishes cost two cents 
more. Oranges jumped, 'and all kinds of fruits. But we' 
did not see just why kindling-wood went up twenty-five 
cents a barrel. Of course it was easy after we found out ; 
it cost more to supply the kindling-splitter with ice-water. 
Then bricks went up forty cents a thousand. The owner 
of the brick-yard ran the ice-plant, and the rise in bricks 
was a purely sympathetic movement — like the inflamma- 
tion of the eye because the other has got a cinder in it. 
Then we discovered that a corner lot we wanted had gone 
up one hundred dollars. This stumped us until we 
learned the intimate connection between this corner lot 
and ice. The lot-owner, it seems, had got shut up for 
three hours in a refrigerator, and contact with ice had 
imbued him with the idea that everything was going up. 
But the most singular effect of the ice-boom came out as 
follows : We asked for an increase of salary and got the 
frosty face, the glacial glance, and the icy eye all in a 
moment. Then we realized that ice was up and it was 
costing more to congeal employing interiors, leaving just 
so much less for the interiors of the submerged classes. 

A. R. E. 

< Appropriate. 

I/OLB and Oates were rival candidates for the office of 
governor in a far southern state, and in the campaign 
" cobs " and " oafs " were the emblems of the opposing 
factions. During this time Colonel Jones, a prominent 
politician, died, and on his coffin was laid a sheaf of wheat 
to typify the ripe old age to which he had arrived. 

" How appropriate !" exclairried young Mrs. Snow at 
the funeral. " He was such an enthusiastic Oates man !'* 

The Ideals of Genevieve at Seventeen and Thirty-two. 

WHEN Genevieve was seventeen At thirty-two fair Genevieve 
She lived in dreams,; she loved to plan Forsook the type of early days ; 

Her future happiness, when she The seasons, as they came' and went, 

Should meet her fate— her ideal man. Had taught her much of worldly ways. 

She pictured him, as maidens will. She chose a man wliose bank-account 
A perfect lover, strong and brave, Was fostered by a plumbing-shop. 



A soulful 

A man who 

ne'er forgot 


Why heed the 

Or the 

Or e'en tlio?e 
lots on 


The Honest Man 

ti/HEN the stranger with grass germs in his tresses 
was shown the last room back on the second floor 
of the Punktown hostelry and saw what sort of a stall 
he was to be bedded down in for the night, he bucked vig- 
orously and said in the most offensive manner he could 

"Look at that chair! Liable to fall down even if I 
hang my sliirt on it. The wash-pitcher is fatally cracked, 
and the bowl has a scallop as big as a summer squash. 
The carpet is full of holes and dirty, and so much quick- 
silver has been rubbed off the back of the looking-glass 
that I look as if I had the small-pox. The cover on the 
washstand has been on there for two long, hard, busy, 
dirty years, and the bed looks like a swaybacked horse 
with a thin blanket over it. If I were to trj' to sleep on 
that bed I would arise in the morning looking like a waffle. 
The wall-paper is off in large patches — in fact, it is off in 
a bunch. The ceiling is cracked, and a yard or so ot 
plastering is liable to fall and smother me in the landslide 

at anv moment. That table is really only a one-night 
stand, and you couldn't write on it if you had two men 
standing and holding it." 

By this time the porter was very tired and angry, so he 
cried out in his vexation, 

" That's right— kick, kick ! But I'll bet a big dollar 
you're not used to any better than this at home." 

" Young man," said the stranger in Punktown, " your 
bet is begging for takers. Your proposition is too much 
of a cinch to bet on. Things at home are as bad as this, 
if not worse. But what does a man go away from home 
for if not for a change of scene ? I hoped I would find 
something comfortable and clean, and perhaps even ele- 
gant,, at a hotel." 

Moved to tears of compassion by reason of the man's 
honesty, the porter surreptitiously escorted him to Parlor 
A, where things were much better because the wash- 
pitcher had a smaller crack in it, and there was one 

upholstered chair. Strickland w. gilulan. 

she replied. 

Preferred To 

Be Miserable. 

AN aged negro cook in a 
prominent family re- 
cently received news of the 
death of a friend. 

" Oh, mah Lawd ! oh, 
mah Lawd !" she sobbed. 
•' Dey's on'y me lef now — 
all de res' is crossed de rib- 
ber !" 

She howled and wailed 
for an hour or more, utterly 
impervious to all attempts 
of her mistress to assuage 
her grielT. Finally the mas- 
ter of the house determined 
to try the effect of humor. 

"Deborah," he said, 
"you know Mr. Elton, the 
butcher, do you not ?" 
looking up through her tears ; 



" Yes, sah,' 
" 'deed I do." 

"Well, what do you suppose he weighs ?" 

" Lawd, massa ! how'd yo' spec' I know .' Whut do he weigh .'" 
" Meat." 

The humor of this appeared to strike her principally at the hips, 
for she held them with both hands and laughed with many a re- 
verberating scream of delight. Suddenly, in the middle of a 
piercing screech, she stopped, confused and humiliated. 

"Massa," she said solemnly, " whut's dat I ought ter be 
feelin' bad erbout ?" 



Miss Wilby Bride—" George wants me to decide where 
we shall go on our wedding-trip. I can't make up my mind." 

Mrs. Muchwed—" What's the matter with Switzerland? 
That's where /usually go." 


This Language of Ours. 

ISN'T it funny," mused the man with mental strabismus, 
' " that when two locomotives comes together the result 

is called a collision, while two babies coming together are 

called twins ?" 


A Little Banking Business 

By Horace Seymour Keller 

THE following happened in Cincinnati shortly after the 
close of the Civil War, when money was tight and 
times pressing'. It is verified by Captain Beck- 
with, who is acquainted with the parties interested. 

A young German, accompanied by a middle-aged man, 
entered a bank, approached the teller and said, 

" If you blease, vill you gif dis man eight huntred tol- 
lars ?" 

The teller gasped, scratched his pate and asked, 



Johnny — " Don't move, gampy ; I've got only half a bag more o' these torpedoes 
all' your head is the bulliest place I've found to set 'em off on !" 

" And who are you ?" 
" John Zimmerman." 

" But you have no money on deposit here " 

" No ; I got no money by any blace. Vot is der tiffer- 

ence of it ? It vas a pank, ain'd it, vhere money vas got ?" 

" Yes ; but I cannot let you have the money '.vithout 

security " 

" Vot of it? Der security vas der grocery-store vhich 
I haf bought off der man vor eight huntred toUars. He 
vants der money vhich I haf not got. 
Der pank haf blendy money ; so blease 
it you vill, gif der man der brice of der 
store. It vas blain " 

" I can't let you have the money " 

" Gentlemen," broke in the cashier, 
who had been an amused and interested 
listener to the conversation, "step into 
this room. Perhaps we can disentangle 
the problem." 

" It vas no broblem. It vas easy as 
noding," uttered the young German. 

"Please be seated, gentlemen. Now, 
Mr. Zimmerman, kindly tell me why you 
thought you could get the amount of 
money from this bank." 

" Veil, dis vas a pank, ain'd it ?" 

" Precisely ; go on, Mr. Zimmerman," 
responded the amused cashier. 

" Und pecause it vas a pank vhere 
money vas, vas der reason vhy I come aft- 
er der brice of der grocery-store. Oder 
beoples do der same, und vhy not I ? I 
puy QUt his store." 

" Where is the store ?" 

■' Just down der street." 

'• And you paid the gentleman eight 
hundred dollars ?" 

" Not yet, but vill so soon as der pank 
gif me der money." 

"And, Mr. Zimmerman, you were posi- 
tive that the bank would let you have that 
amount without any security ?" 

"Veil, der pank haf blendy money. I 
don'd got no money. Derpank's pizness 
vas vor to gif me der money. It vas blain." 

The cashier smiled, studied the hon- 
est, frank face before him and finally said, 

" I think we can arrange the matter." 

He drew up a bank-note for one year 
and asked the German to sign it. Leading 
the way to the teller's window the cashier 

" Give Mr. Zimmerman the money." 

And to-day the German, who had so 
slight a knowledge of banks, banking and 
securities — but who won out because of 
his frank, honest face— is worth a quarter 
of a million of dollars. 


" ^ to 

X. •= j3 

.. M .2. 
2 5 ; 3* 

=^ II" 
•-" s s « 


"Poor Little Nina 

By Walter Beverley Crane 


my dear," said Mr. "Willie" 
' allow me to present Lord 

" I am afraid — I really am awfully afraid 
— that I am intruding here," said his lord- 

"Why, no," replied Mrs. "Willie" Rock- 
wood, with a slight delay on each word to emphasize her 
negative. " You can help me choose a new automobile 
coat. Do you like that ?" 

She pointed to a swagger garment floating up and 
down Mrs. Gosburn's Fifth avenue shop's show-room on a 
most elegant young person, who had risen in life by the 
remarkable fall in her back. 

" 'Why do they call me a Gibson girl?'" hummed 
Mrs. " Willie's " husband, while Lord Heron exclaimed, 
"Charming! Charming! Upon my word, exceedingly 
smart and pretty !" 

"Which do you mean ?" asked Mrs. "Willie." His 
lordship was delighted. These little American women 
are so quick and clever, don't you know ; they have so 
much self-possession and so much spirit without being 
vulgar or fast. His heart warmed to her. 


Zoo PARROT — " Hey ! don't you know this is the glorious Fourth, when 
you ought to be soaring over these United States, screeching ' Liberty and 
Freedom '? Get busy 1" 

Emblem of liberty {sadly) — " And here I am in a cage ! Wouldn't 
that make you sore?" 

" It must be a strange life," he observed, lowering his 
voice ; " this sweeping up and down and bending of the 
body under other people's clothing." 

"Why, it must be delightful I" exclaimed Mrs. "Wil- 
lie." " Only fancy being always sure to have on the very 
latest thing !" 

"Isn't it time for little Nina's medicine ?" demanded 
Mr. "Willie." 

" Yes, dear ; do hurry home," pleaded his wife. 
"Shall I have the pleasure of your company. Lord 
Heron, or do you elect to remain among the — er — 
clothes ?" 

" I think, if Mrs. Rockwood will allow me, I will stop 
and put her into her car." The lady smiled, and her 
husband strode off toward the Waldorf. Having finally 
decided on the touring coat and entered her waiting car, 
Mrs. " Willie " extended Lord Heron some beautifully- 
gloved fingers through the window of her luxurious limou- 

"Would you be so good as to tell me the time? 
Thank you so much. How late ! Oh, dear ! I hope 
Willie will give little Nina her medicine just on the hour. 
So good of you to have helped with the coat. Lord Heron. 
I've a ' bridge ' luncheon, and am awfully 
late. Tell Francois to hurry, please. Do 
call soon !" And Mrs. " Willie " flew up 
the avenue. 

" Well, I hope little Nina gets her 
medicine," mused his lordship. He was a 
tender-hearted Briton. He thought of 
Tiny Tim and little Paul Dombey. He 
fancied the sick child lying like a faded 
flower on her little bed and lisping bless- 
ings on her mother, now on her way to 
keep a "bridge" engagement. "Ameri- 
can women have even less feeling than 
Parisian," he found himself saying. " Un- 
mothered mother ! heartless, pitiless !" he 
repeated to himself. 

Yet, on the following day after their first 
meeting, he called at the Waldorf. Though 
forced to disapprove of an attractive wo- 
man, he could not resist his inclination 
for her society. The door to their apart- 
ments was opened by a French maid, who 
was crying in a most becoming fashion. 
Lord Heron's imagination was aroused. 
" Is it little Nina?" he gasped, letting the 
monocle drop out of his eye. 

She nodded despairingly. She could 
not speak for weeping. She led the way 
into the drawing-room. The sight which 
his lordship beheld was indeed surprising. 
On the Louis XVI. table was little Nina's 
medicine, and by it the most delicate 
of sweetbreads untasted. Mr. " Willie " 

Rockwood, his vacuous face seared with deep emotion, 
was bending like a " broken " breech-loader over a luxuri- 
ous divan. Opposite to him was his wife, who had sunk 
upon the floor, and with tears coursing down her cheeks 
was soothing the little sufferer. The little sufferer 1 Be- 
tween husband and wife, propped by the softest pillows, 
draped by the costliest rugs and shawls, important and 
deeply conscious of her importance, reclined the queen of 
French bull-dogs. " Willie " Rockwood came foi-\vard. 

" I hoped you were the doctor. Heron. I say, old man, 
have you any acquaintance with the maladies of dogs ?" 

" None whatever," tartly replied his lordship ; " and 
indeed, Mr. Rockwood, I am glad to see that you can 
interest yourself in a dog at such a moment." 

" At such a moment ?" repeated Mr. " Willie." 

"When little Nina" began Lord Heron, visibly 


" Why, my lord, this is little Nina," burst out Mr. 

Lord Heron screwed his glass in his 
eye. "I think," he said, "perhaps I'd 
better go." 

"Yes," said Mr. "Willie"; "I am 
afraid my wife is not equal to conversa- 
tion at present. I trust that we shall 
have the pleasure of seeing you under 
happier circumstances." 

"Ah, thanks! I'm sure, ah — thanks!' 
murmured the visitor, and he glanced 
again at young Mrs; " Willie." She 
was wholly unconscious of his presence. 
She was holding the limp right paw ot 
the patient in her hand and was bathing 
it with tears. Lord Heron departed 
rather abruptly. The next morning, as 
he was toying with his breakfast at the 
St. Regis, a note was brought to him : 

" Dear Lc^rd Heron- — How you must 
have wondered at my strange conduct 
yesterday ! I was in the deepest despair 
and quite unfit to receive anybody. To- 
day all looks bright again. The dear 
doctor came soon after you left. He is 
reckoned the cleverest man in the pro- 
fession, and attends the dogs of the 
smartest people in this country and 
Europe. He says that our dear little 
Nina has no serious malady, but recom- 
mends a change of diet, and a change of 
climate as well. So we start at once for 
the Jamestown exhibition. I should 
prefer the south of England or the Isle 
of Wight for Nina, as the change would 
be far more radical, but the doctor says 
steamer travel is so irritating to dogs in 
Nina's delicate condition. Will you do 
me a great favor and send me some 
of Angel's fiea^powder when you reach 
London ? I would not trouble you, 
but Angel's is invaluable and so difficult 
to get in this country. Mr. Rockwood 

is in despair at having to leave town so suddenly. He 
wanted to put you up at all the clubs. May I not depend 
upon you for the powder ? 

" Very cordially yours, 

" Constance Rockwood." 

" I buy flea-powder for that d d cur !" cried his 

lordship. "Well, I suppose I shall," he added after a 
long pause. " • Poor little Nina !' " and he burst out 
laughing, causing the other guests of the St. Regis much 
polite and well-bred surprise by his noisy exhibition of 


«< you say your wife is a poor cook ?" 
" The worst ever." 

" And yet you say that you eat all of everything she pre- 
pares for the table. How can you do that if she can't cook?" 

" Great earth, man ! if I don't she will use up the 
scraps in some of those how-to-utilize-left-over dishes, and 
that will be my finish." 

MaRIB^ — " Does Marjorie smoke ?" 
Ethyl — " Heavens, no ! She 's hopelessly old-fashioned.' 



He — " Let us sit out on the lawn and watch the lightning-bugs." 
She — •■ Oh, somebody might see us ! Let 's sit inside the grape-arbor and watch for the bugs." 

Has to. 

ijXHEY say she spends twice as much money as any 
other woman lor complexion-powder." 
" Of course she does. She is two-faced." 

On Her Dignity. 

4. 1 UNDERSTAND," said the 
dignified English matron, 
" that your father made his 
money in — in trade." 

" What do you mean ?" asked 
the American heiress. 

"That he amassed his 
wealth by buying and selling 
commodities that the common 
people needed." 

" He did nothing of the 
sort !" retorted the angry heir- 
ess. " I want you to under- 
stand that papa did not work 
a lick for a cent of his. He 
made it every bit by skinning 
people with watered stocks. I 
guess that's just as easy money 
as the kind that you inherit, 
isn't it ?" 

Jewell — " How did the 
Jones-Robinsons get into so- 
ciety ?" 

Duell — " They were hyphen- 
ated in." 


Mag — "Billy, I regrets tcr say dat our engagement 
has g(jt ter be broke off." 

Bn.i.Y — -'Wot's de trouble now?" 

M.'lG — "Me ma won't leave me wear yrr ring no 
more 'cos it makes me linger black." 

Aqua Essence. 

Doctor — " Did that drug-clerk say anything when you 

asked him if he had added aqua pura to the prescription ?" 

Assistant — " Nothing. He just smiled acquiescence.', 

Sure Sign. 

(( VOU are losing interest in 
me," she complains. 

He argues that he is not, but 
she pouts and repeats her as- 
sertion. Finally he wants t' 
know why she says such ». 

" Because," she says, " you 
tied my shoe this afternoon in 
a knot that would not come 
untied of itself." 

Getting Away from 

the Past. 

it IN MY plans for your new 
home," says the architect, 
" I have provided for a large, 
ornate frieze in the hall." 

" Don't want it," asserts Mr 

" What ?" 

" Not a bit of it. Can't take 
any chances on having some 
one being reminded that I used 
to drive an ice-wagon." 

Hope for the Baldheaded 

By Perkin Warbeck 

OME months ago I received a 
letter which I have not been 
able to answer until now, be- 
cause it required a great deal 
of deep thinl<ing and careful 
research to qualify myself to 
give the information asked 
for. I wish to apologize to 
the writer of the letter for the 
delay, and trust the follow- 
ing remarks will be found 
helpful. The letter is as fol- 
lows : 

•• Mr. Perkin Warbeck — 
To settle a bet, will you 
please answer this question : 
Does hair ever grow on a 
liald head ? I would also 
like to have your opinion on the relative smartness of 
heads that have no hair and those that have. Was 
Shakespeare bald when he was at his best, or did he only 
become so as his powers waned ? Can you mention some 
other men who were great, either before or after becom- 
ing baldheaded, and will you kindly tell me what is con- 
sidered the best thing for a baldheaded man to do. Who 
is the author of the saying, • Some are bald on the outside 
of their heads, some are bald on the inside, but. oh ! be- 
ware of baldness on the soul ? 

" By replying you will confer a favor on yours truly, 

" E. Bertram Wood." 
Being slightly bald myself — only slightly, mind you, 
really not enough to be noticed — I consider that you have 
come to the right party to have these questions settled, 
Bertram, In coming to me you have accidentally struck 
headquarters. If you had gone to anybody else they 
would have referred you to me, any way ; so, you see, you 
guessed right the very first time. 

Now, Bertram, I suppose you know you have cut out 
quite a piece of work for me, and I think without more 
persiflage we had better get right down to hair — or rather 
to the absence of hair — and stay there till we get at the 
roots of the matter. 

Does hair ever grow on a bald hea<l ? That, I take it, 
is the particular question on which the money is up. My 
answer is, it does. Did you ever hear, Bertram, of a 
barber charging a baldheaded man less for a hair-cut 
than others ? Well, doesn't that prove something ? Bar- 
bers couldn't keep up the illusion forever that they were 
cutting hair if they were only scissoring large chunks out 
of the atmosphere above the bald head. The logic is in- 
controvertible. What do they cut, if not hair ? 

To others a man's head of'en seems to be bald when it 
is really not so. And we must certainly allow something 
to a mans own idea about his own head. I^n't that right, 
Bertram ? Take my own case. Many people say I am 

bald ; but do these people really know ? Have they a 
right to force a constructive baldness, so to speak, on a 
head which is actually quite hairy ? I admit that from a 
distance my head my seem to be bald, but by coming near 
and regarding the matter attentively it will be seen that 
the view from a distance did me a great injustice. I know 
others who are in the same case. The public considers 
them bald, but they know the inside facts, as you might 
say. They know that there is a fine silken down, like the 
inside of a mouse's ear, not aggressively noticeable to the 
public, but there just the same. Then again, while there 
may not be much hair on a bald head, there is usually 
some left, like the lonely cedars on the mountain side, and 
these sparse survivors become a matter of deep pride to 
the master of the head. While there is hair there is hope, 
and these lonely sentinels on the thatchless waste are a 
great comfort and solace. Technically, of course, they 
constitute an affirmative to your question, for they grow 
on a bald head. 

As to the question of smartness, it might look con- 
ceited in me to say what I think on the question. Since 
you have mentioned Shakespeare, however, I may as well 
own up that there are some mighty smart baldheads in 
the world. You ask if Shakespeare w^as bald when at his 
best. I would rather put that the other way round. Was 
he at his best when bald ? And I answer, I think he was. 
Shake is a power of comfort to baldheaded folks. You 
see, there w-asn't any chance for two opinions in his case. 
He was just bald, and there you are. And he ranks pretty 

The hairless fraternity, past and present, numbers 
within its fold some of the world's greatest men. Horace 
Greeley, you know, was almost excessively bald, and that 
great president and good man, John Quincy Adams, the 
defender of the right of petition, had a head so gloriously 
guiltless of hair and so splendidly pink and shiny that 
when he left his seat in the house o f congress the other 
representatives would shut up their desks and go home, 
thinking the sun had gone down. Of dark nights in 
Washington Mr. Adams was employed by the public serv- 
ice to walk about the streets for an hour or two, so the 
people could see to reach their homes. They finally began 
to wonder how it was that there was always a full moon 
in Washington. 

You suggest a very interesting question, which I would 
hardly have brought up myself, when you ask whether the 
world's most famous baldheads were bald before or after 
they were great. Now, it is a curious fact that in the 
best authenticated cases these men all grew bald as they 
grew great. That is, as fast as they became renowned 
[hey lost hair. What is the meaning of this .' What do 
such facts indicate ? Whither tends the logic of this bald- 
headed argument ? 

There is but one conclusion. You can't have wisdom 
and hair both. Nature doesn't give any man the earth 

I ^ i. 

and then fence it for him. If you want hair she'll give 
you hair, but she will take it out of the expense account, 
so to speak. If you have got a fine head of hair, with a 
nice dudish part on the right side, make the most of it and 
be content, but don't go moping around and make every- 
body miserable because nature didn't include a large No. 
12, latest model, double-gear, high-speed brain in the 
hand-out. Somebody has told me that you never see a 
bald head in the insane-asylums. This is significant, if 
true, but I can't verify it at this writing. I expect to go 
to an insane-asylum myself some day to see if the state- 
ment is true. 

As to your next query I am in some doubt. Perhaps I 
don't catch the idea, and if I do I am still at a loss to reply 
categorically. Categorically, Bertram, is a word 1 am 
using this season lor the first time. If it takes well I am 
thinking of staging it next fall for a regular run. 

Your question is : What is considered the best thing 
for a baldheaded man to do ? Now, do I understand you 
to mean what you say, or is it a question of remedies for 
baldness you are aiming at? You see the two things are 
totally unlike. Perhaps I liad better offer some remarks 
on both branches of the subject. 

The best thing for a baldheaded man to do, in my judg- 
ment, IS to take it easy. He should live restfuUy and have 
a large income. I should say that ten thousand dollars a 
year should be the minimum of his demands, and from 
that up. A large income is apt to have a soothing effect 
on a baldheaded man. It fills him with refreshment and 
makes him feel that life is not so dreary as it may seem. 
He should patronize the best plays and be always at the 
front in the endeavor to have good amusements for the 
people. In marrying it is a good idea for the baldheaded 
man to select a young lady of independent fortune. By 

care he wfll be able to find many young ladies who have 
millions and who will make good wives just the same. 
The point to be held in mind is that when the baldheaded 
man finds the girl he wants, if she should happen to be 
worth twenty-three million dollars he should not let this 
fact stand in the way of closing the transaction with all 
possible speed. If the baldheaded suitor be poor and the 
girl rich, go ahead just the same. Girls like to give their 
wealth to the poor, and do good with their inoney. 

There are a great many remedies for baldness, but 
none so good as that invented by the famous Methodist, 
John Wesley. The trouble with the common run of reme- 
dies is that they seek some easy way out of it, flatter the 
man with the polished knob into the notion that all he has 
to do is to top-dress his head a few times with some sweet- 
smelling stuff and then watch the hair hump itself. Wes- 
ley took the bull by the horns, as it were. If you're going 
to do a thing, said Wesley, do it in such a way that you 
will know you have tried to do it, any way. Wes- 
ley's method will live in the memory of the trier, and don't 
you think it won't. Here it is : Shave the head, rub it 
thoroughly with a live, vigorous onion that has youth and 
power, and then pour a cruse of honey on and rub that in 
and sit in a cool place till the hair grows. This was the 
most efficacious remedy I ever tried, and I have never felt 
that there was any occasion to repeat it. 

P. s. — The authorship of the lines you quote is in 
doubt. Some scholars think they were spoken by Eli- 
jah, who made a life-long study of the subject of bald- 
heads. Others contend that Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wil- 
cox is the author, but I don't feel that it is right to 
credit every bright thing written to this popular inspirer 
of the people. 

HusB.-iND — " I should hke to have one good loiig'smuke without your interference." 
Wife — ■• Well, you may have your wish granted soon enough. 'Vou know ytm don't come of a long-Iivi-d family. 

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Mrs. Washers — " Mistah Jackson asked me to be hi^ helpmate las' ebenin." 

Miss Callers— ■• Dafs not surprisin'. Hit's well known dat he can't support himself alone.' 


She — "What a handsome umpire ! I should like lo throw a kiss at him.". 

He — •' Wait a while. After you hear a few of his decisions you will feel like throwing a bat at him.' 

^ 3 

•O 2 


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a 7 

Dreamy Grumps — " I wuz jest a-thinkin", pard. if I had a lot uv money I'd build a nice big house." 

Dusty Rhodes — "Wot kind uv a house — one uv dem marble ones, or brownstone, or red brick, or" 

Dreamy Grumps — "Nit — not fer mine ! I'd have a ice-cream-brick house, wid lemon-meringue trimmin's.' 

The Hair of the Dog. 

«j JWIEED not tell me that like does not cure like," as- 
serted the man with the apologetic mustache. 

" Who tried to tell you so ?" asked the man with the 
aggressive chin. 

" No one ; but the point I wanted to make was this : 
My wife wore one of these drop-stitch waists until she got 
rheumatism, and then the nurse spread mustard on the 
waist and made a porous-plaster of it and cured the rheu- 

One Drawback. 

EDITH'S father recently bought a new home, in the yard 
^ of which are some fine old elms. On being asked 
how she liked them the little lady replied, " Very well, all 
but their complexion — that's awfully rough." 

(( li/E REALLY have no excuse for this war, " said the 

' statesman. " Very true," said the ambitious king ; 

" but that need not worry you, as the historians of the 

future may be depended upon to develop a proper excuse." 








• Me face is me fortune. See?" 

' Well, why don't yer increase yer fortune by gittin' de mumps ?" 


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HIS GLOVE," said Herlock Sholmes. the great 
detective ; " tliis giove speaks to me of a great 

" I knew it would," said Swatson, who had 
brought the glove to him. 

" Yes," said Sholmes, lighting a cigarette and putting 
his feet on the mantel. He puffed m medit.uive silence for 
some minutes. "Now," 
he resumed, "the ques- 
tion is' 

"The question is 
where and when was 
the murder commit- 
ted," interrupted Swat- 
son with the keen haste 
of a man who is tickled 
to death at anticipating 
the thoughts of a great 

" No, that is not 
the question," replied 
Sholmes, while Swatson 
shrank swiftly into his 
natural state of subjec- 
tion. " The question is, 
shall we work it up into 
a hundred - and - fifty - 
thousand-word novel or 
merely make a short 
sketch of it ?" 

Swatson vouchsafed 
no reply, save to motion 
to his empty pocket. 

" Ah, we need the 
money at once ?" 
smiled Sholmes. "Then 
it shall be a short 
sketch, for the cash 
comes much more 
quickly from the maga- 
zines than from the roy- 
alties on a book. ' For 
some moments I lepulled 
at his cigarette, then 
laid the glove, in the 
open palm of his right 
hand. " This glove," 
he deduced, "was worn 

by a young woman who belongs to one of the best 
families. How do I know that ? Because she was on her 
way to the manicurist's. How do I know she was ? 
Because you picked it up in front of the manicure-shop 
across the way. I saw you. Very well. I know she was 
going there because she was in a hurry, and she drew the 
glove from her hand before she entered in order t > save 
time; She had an engagement for the theatre. How do 

HE \V.\.S IN IT. 
' But, papa, he owns stock in iwenty different corporations." 
" Phew ! I didn't know he had been in politics so long as that 
him call whenever vou like." 

I know that ? They all have. Yesterday she bought a 
copy of ' Lady Rose's Daughter' at the book-shop in Main 
street. How do I reason that out ? The newspapers 
advertised a special sale of the story at that shop for that 
day. She plays golf. I deduce that because she plays 
bridge-whist. I am positive of that because she has a 
lap-dog. I am sure of that because she is a pianist. I 

d scoverthat because of 
the shape of the fingers 
of the glove. 1 venture 
the opinion as to the 
other attributes of her 
elevated station be- 
cause she is an auto- 

"Keen, keen !" 
cried Swatson. " But 
how in the world do 
you deduce that she is 
an automobilist ?" 

" Smell the glove,'' 
commanded the great 

Swatson did so. 
The scent of gasoline 
was overpowering. 

"Now, Swatson," 
kindly said Sholmes, 
" don't you see how I 
did it all ? I smelled 
the glove first and 
then deduced all the 
rest. I have cultivated- 

the hab " 

" Excuse me, Mr. 
Sholmes," spoke a slen- 
der lady who had en- 
tered unnoticed, " but 
I took the liberty of 
running up here to ask 
if Mr. Swatson did not 
pick up my glove. I 
thought I saw him do 
so, and I knew I would 
find him here. I had 
Have cleaned the gloves with 
gasoline and hung 
them on my window- 
ledge to dry and one of them fell into the street." 
She took the glove, smiled her thanks, and left. 
"Do you know who she is?" asked Sholmes after the- 
door had closed. 

"Yes," replied Swatson. "She is the manicurist," 

(( IS SPACECUT a capable editor?" 

' " He can get the good out of an article more com- 
pletely than any other editor I ever worked under." 


By R. N. Duke 

T WAS to be one of the biggest killings that 
ever occurred on a race-track, but it did not 
occur. I am working under a heavy handicap 
when I try to tell about it, but I belong in the 
same class with that famous martyr of whom 
it is lovingly said in the school-books, " he 
seen his duty and he done it noble." 

I never joined the dream-builders' asso- 
ciation nor played Willie the Wild Boy at the 
race-track nor let the pipers perform that 
stirring piece, " Darling, Dream of Me," 
when I showed up at the bookmakers', and my 
notion of a horse is bound up with and insep- 
arable from the related concept of a plow or 
a dray. But I am going through with this 
thing, even if I don't know a killing from a 
It was this way. There were three of us. In fact, 
there were a number of us. I will begin with Aloysius. 
Aloysius brought in the tip. He said it was an •' air-tight." 
I think the boys would not have lost their heads if it had 
been just an ordinary open-air tip with plenty of ventilation. 
But when you get an air-tight tip what are you going to 
do ? Pass it up ? Neigh, neigh, Pauline. 

(That neigh, neigh, will show the reader how conscien- 
tiously I am trying to give this story a horsy flavor.) 

Aloysius came in out of breath and said he had got this 
tip straight from a jockey. The jockey had his head irt a 
sling and his neck was broken and the funeral was set, and 
some friends had traveled miles to put him ne.\t to big money 
and told him to dig up, never stopping to consider that he 
was about to dig down, as it were, being in such broken 
health, as I have already intimated, from all <if which the 
following beautiful day-dream had set its auroral dawn in 
the happy face ot the said Aloysius. 

As near as I can recall, this is the way it was piped to 
us. Peppermint Blossom, a spry young thing full of bed- 
springs and motion powders, was to run that day. Pep- 
permint had been prepared for a killing, and in previous 
races had had his feet cut off to slow him down and work 
up the odds in good shape. The game was to sew his feet 
on for that afternoon and spread surprise and greenbacks 
all over the skating-pond. I use the term skating-pond, 
not because I have the least idea what it means, but be- 
cause it is a favorite term in the celebrated works by John 
Henry, the noted racing expert. 

Well, the story took, and we were all down with the fever 
right off. It was late in the week for the '• Green Fellows," 
but by and by they began to crawl out of the bushes, and 
Peppermint Blossom was plastered with the left-overs from 
last pay-day. Then the boys went up on the mountains 
with horns and stayed there all day. Some were for going 
to Europe because Peppermint was a 40 to i shot. The 
fivers couldn't see anything nearer than Rome, Italy, while 

the oners and twoers thought a week in Florida or at Old 
Point Comfort would about size up to their piles. 

Taking only a spectatorial interest in this hot-air free- 
for-all, I at once began to look up Peppermint's record and 
present standing. I found this succinct and perfectly in- 
comprehensible statement ; 

Horse — Peppermint Blossom ; weight, 99 ; jockey, 
Willieboy ; open high, 30 ; ciose, 60 ; place, 20 ; show, 

It struck me right off that a horse weighing ninety-nine 
pounds was fresh from the bone works and held a through 
ticket for the button factory, but Aloysius and Alphonse 
and Raymond D. and J. Henry and Arthur and the rest 
said I wasn't up on horses. That " open high " at thirty 
and " close " at sixty, with a " place " and " show " at only 
ten and twenty looked to me like a big come-down from 
the first ratings, but the boys wouldn't listen to me. They 
said they knew what they were about. Of course, not 
being up on horses, I had to let them go on tooting their 
horns and piling up grief against that hour when the 
alarm should go off and wake them up. 

During the afternoon we heard from Peppermint Blos- 
som at frequent intervals. I don't know how this informa- 
tion arrived, but there was very little of this whole business 
I did understand. I didn't know where any of the smoke 
rings came from that filled the room all day. In fact, I 
didn't know where Peppermint came from. 

I will give the bulletins as they came in, as near as I 
can recall them : 

Noon — Peppermint will run at 4:30. 

1 p. m. — Peppermint is eating clover-tops and honey- 
suckles and drinking attar of roses. 

1 130 p. m. — They are just sewing Peppermint's feet on. 

2 p. m. — Couple of dray horses have just lit out. They 
are hitting the track like steers. Peppermint's feet are on 
and we have driven ring bolts and anchored him with ox 
chains to keep him on the earth. 

3 p. m. — The slaughter draws near. Peppermint be- 
having beautifully. Put twelve sacks of sand on him to 
ballast him till the whistle blows. 

3:30 p. m. — Drove of has-beens just came home. 
Looked as if they had been out all night. Peppermint is 
frothing at the mouth and has bit off three stablemen's 
ears in the last seven seconds. 

4 p. m. — Three men are leading Peppermint out. He 
is no tin horse, all right. Something will be doing now 

4:30 p. m. — They are off. Peppermint is off more than 
any of them. 

Then the bulletins broke off and we couldn't get central 
to answer any more. Some more hot ones were handed 
to us, but we couldn't swear they were true. For my part, 
they looked just as reliable as any of the news we had been 
getting all afternoon, but the boys said they were faked up. 

• r I 

They all looked alike to me. This is the way they read 
after 4:30 : 

4:32 — It's Peppermint against the field. Six hired men 
are trying to push him over the line, but he seems to 

4:33 — They have got a steam-roller hitched to Pepper- 
mint and will soon be off. 

4:35 — Peppermint is leaning up against the side of a 
barn, reflecting on his youthful days, now, alas ! gone for- 
ever, never to return. 

As I said, I do not know whether these bulletins w^ere 
true or fake. They looked all right to me, just as the 
earlier afternoon ones did. I do know that toward the 
cool of the evening the boys began to come down out of 
the mountains and drift slowly away — sort of fade into the 

landscape, as it were. The next morning there seemed to 
be a disposition to inquire how the Russo-Jap war was 
coming on. I suppose they were still interested in the 
killing, as you might say, though now they were thinking 
of those killings that are far away instead of those that are 
right at our doors. 

Somebody in the course of the morning asked casually 
where Peppermint Blossom was, but you could see that 
the war was more interesting from a news view-point. 
The opinion was thrown out carelessly that Peppermint 
had not got in yet and it seemed to answer all require- 
ments. Everybody appeared to feel that that accounted 
for Peppermint as far as he needed to be accounted for. 

I never saw a subject lose interest as Peppermint Blos- 
som did. 

An Episode. 

IWHEN he came into the room where she sat he was struck 
at once by her marvelous beauty. At first she did 
not observe him, but finally she glanced in his direction. 

There was something about him that caused her to un- 
bend from her hauteur. 

She fell quickly into his vein of merry banter, and when 
at last he left she rolled her eye at him. 

With that innate courtesy for w-hich our hero was cele- 
brated, he picked up her glass eye and returnetl it to her. 

Suited Him Better. 

Ccbwigger — " The doctor says you sleep too much. 
You must begin by getting up two hours earlier in the 

Freddie — " Say, dad, wouldn't it be 'ust the same if I 
went to bed two hours later ?" 

Speaking Confidentially. 

Gladys — " Don't you think the duke looks careworn?" 
Mae — " Er — no ; sort of shopworn. " 

' Well, borrowing money is truly borrowing trouble.' 
' Huh ! What's the trouble ?" 
' Paying it back." 


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MUST Slow bowN 


(( riRANDMA is awfully- 
cross, mamma." 

" You mustn't annoy 
her, dear ; she has the 
rheumatism, and it pains 
her very much." 

" Is — is it in her voice, 
mamma ?" 

I. Constable — " I say, Bill, those signs are something like. Go 'long and git 'em up and I'll 
talk business to these fast-runnin' shawfurs." 

COME day, perhaps, the 
Chicago river may be 
stood on end to serve as 
a monument to that city's 

In a Sorry Plight. 

DETH, while making a 
call with her mother 
on a new neighbor, kept 
her eyes constantly fixed 
on the sofa, upon which 
were some very large sofa- 
pillows, the same color 
as the upholstering. 
" Oh, mamma,'' ex- 
claimed the little girl on 
reaching the street, " how 
awfully bad that sofa was 
blistered !" 

2. Small boy {wii/i brush) — -'I say, Johnnie, we'll jest fuller Bill up and put in a letter for 
the shawfurs." 

'-■K !;■ '."v" i;f{i^WrfV.W!*?«i'.'' "■'':' 

3. Constable — "Hey! Slow up there. Don't you see tliose signs — or can't you read?" 


(( IT'S all nonsense," as- 
serts the skeptic. 
" It's foolish to talk of 
communicating with the 
other world. Why, no- 
body can get a message to 
the other side." 

" I don't know about 
that," replies the credulous 
person. " Only the other 
day I heard a man say 
he was going to wire a 
skeleton that night." 

Her Reply. 

McGorry — " Oi'll buy 
yez no new hat, d' yez 
moind thot ? Ye are vain 
enough ahlriddy." 

Mrs. McGorry — " Me 
vain ? Oi'm not ! Shure, 
Oi don't t'ink mesilf half as 
good-lookin' as Oi am." 

DLESSED are the proph- 
ets of disappointment ; 
for they can say, " I told 
you so." 



eight/ miles 

VJHDtfe. PE.f.*LTY 







4. AUTOIST — •' My dear fellow, do you really suppose we were going faster than that ?" 




Mr. Riley — ■■ Ah. ladies, yc-r don't know how I am in- 
teiested in your cause, especially in de deniolishment uv de 
vile gin-mills uv Casey and Coogan. on dis street. Axcept ten 
dollars fer new hatchets ter smash deir saloons." 

Mr Riley (ah /;ok;- /.;/<•>-) — ■• Dat was a coup— 
both me competitors put out uv bizness an' deir patrons 
pilin' in so thick dat de reformers couldn't find elbow- 
room ter smash my joint if dey tried." 

[ A NY new/s up your way .' 

" Nope ; nothin' much. 


? " asks the country editor. 

Only Did you 

hear about Jed Hawkins's tricK with the lightnin'-rod 
durin' the thunder-storm last Friday ? ' 

" No. What was that ?' 

" Why. you know Jed 's been 
a-arguin' all along to his father 
that lightnin' - rods didn't draw 
lightnin' down, an' finally he 
pulled the rod oft the barn durin' 
that storm an' walked around 
with it slung over his shoulder to 
prove his side of the case. .An' 
the lightnin' struck " 

■■ Struck Jed ?" 

" No ; struck the barn. " 

An Exception to the Rule. 

(( VOU can fool all of the people 

part of tlie time, and part of 
the people all rf the time, but yon 
can't fool all the people all the 
time," declares the street orator. 

" Yeu can if you sell canta- 
loupes," chuckles a man who is 
going toward the bank with the 
last installment of his summer 

Her Explanation. 

A LADY who warbled in mezzo, 
*■ Repined, *'I am always in dezzo. 
My runs and my trills 
Could pay all my bills, 
And would, if I didn't forgezzo." 

At the Whist Club. 

Hostess (in astonishment) — " I was surprised that Mrs. 
Newbegin won the prize. It was just due to dumb luck." 

Mrs. Eckspert — " • Dumb luck,' indeed I Why, she chat- 
tered every minute." 

Tourist {in Frozc-n Dog) — "I suppose your ball-nine are all st-r ]>|:iyprs?" 
Bronco Bill— •■ You bet they be ! \n if th' decisions don't suit they're sliootiu'- 
star players." 

She Was a Lady 

By William J. Lampton 

'O the Sunday-school teacher 's got mar- 
ried ?" said Big Jack Gilder, knocking 
the ashes out of his pipe, and sighing as 
if tliere were other ashes in this vale of 
tears. He was sitting on a soap-box in 
front of the Yard-wide livery stable. 
Main street, Copperville, and the post- 
master had stopped to tell him the news. 
The postmaster knew that Big Jack 
cherished a sentiment which had never 
found expression in definite language. 

" She's gone and done it, sure," he as- 
serted in positive corroboration of his 
original communication. " I know, be- 
cause I seen it in a Boston paper that 
comes to a minin' ingineer over on Sil- 
ver crick. Yes, sir, she 's got married." 

" Well, I hope she's got a man fittin' fer her," Gilder 
commented, " fer she was a woman that was high up in 
the heaven's-best-gift list, if there ever was one." 

"Yes," the postmaster nodded, " and I thought mebbe 
you'd like to hear she was married," he added in the 
kindly manner of those who love to communicate glad 
tidings which are only relatively glad. 

Gilder sighed again and smiled. The smile remained 
as he took a plug of tobacco from his pocket and began 
cutting strips off of it to fill his pipe. The sigh was 
for the present, the smile went back to some pleasant 

"Jou mind the time," he said reminiscently as he 
scratched a match, " when I brung her up in that covered 
wagon from the gulch to town ? Lemme see," and he 
dreamed a moment, " that was the year before I begun 
drivin' the stage." 

The postmaster nodded in affirmation, but with some 
degree of vagueness. 

" I remember when you was teaniin' from here to the 
gulch," he said, seating himself on a convenient bale 
of hay, " but I seem to disremember the perticke- 
lers of your haulin' the Sunday-school teacher. It don't 
seem to me that you was in the passenger business. She 
wasn't freight, was she ?" 

"Fer that day she was," Gilder laughed. "You see it 
was this way : She was down to the gulch doin' some kind 
of missionary work or other, temporary, when she got a 
hurry call to come to town to see somebody that was 
startin' over the big divide that couldn't go easy if she 
wa'n't there to say the word. I don't mind now who, but 
that's no difference. It wa'n't stage day and she couldn't 
wait. She'd 'a' walked first ; that's the kind she was. I 
was startin' with only half a back-load and I offered free 
passage if she'd agree to take what come and not expect 
parlor-car lugshuries. She'd 'a' done anything ruther than 
not git back to town, and when I was ready to pull out 
she'd been waitin' most an hour fer me. Lookin' mighty 
sweet and purty, too, and smilin' to think she was goin' to 

git back to where she was needed most. That's the kind 
she was." 

Gilder paused in retrospection until the postmaster 
showed signs of impatience. 

" I knowed I was assumin' a risk that was extry hazard- 
ous, as the insurance people says," he went on when his 
thought moved him, " but it was only a six-hour stretch 
from the gulch and I guessed I might take a chance with 
the load I had in the wagon and six mules in front." 

" I wouldn't call that much of a risk," the postmaster 
said in derogation, having been a teamster himself before 
entering the political field. 

Gilder sniffed at him scornfully. "That's all you know 
about what that gulch road was like in them days," he 

" It isn't so very d smooth yet," put in a drummer 

who had just arrived on three wheels and a sapling under 
one axle. 

" As I was sayin'," Gilder proceeded with a dry laugh ot 
approval, "she was on the spot lookin' so angelly and so 
derned grateful to me that I couldn't have stood her otf 
nohow, and we got away prompt, her settin' on a miner's 
pack of old clothes in the wagon, and me in the saddle on 
the nigh mule, gover'ment fashion. We got along mid- 
dlin' well — mighty fine, I'd 'a' said if I hadn't had a lady 
aboard that was used to better things — till we struck 
Ball's hill about four p. m. in the afternoon. Up to and 
includin' that time most of the trouble had been jist plain 
joltin', and she bounced around in the wagon tryin' to 
stiddy herself on anything that she could reach hold of, till 
I was that ashamed of myself I wanted to resign and hire a 
private carfer her. But she'd alius laugh between jolts and 
tell me to keep 'em goin', fer the main thing was to git to 
town in time. Then her eyes would kind of git dim and I 
knowed she was thinkin' about what was waitin' fer her to 
come." Gilder paused and looked wistfully across the 
street at the Cornucopia hotel on the corner. " And it 
was right there she stopped," he said, more to himself than 
to any other person. 

"That's so; she used to board there," the postmaster 
assented, as if recognizing an important statement which 
needed corroboration. 

" Well." Gilder gathered and went on, " as I was sayin', 
we done middlin' well till we struck Ball's hill. That's a 
hill, I want to say positive, that would paralyze any ingi- 
neer on reecord to git a road over it or round it that was 
half decent to travel on in dry weather, and when it was 
wet — well, Ball's hill ought to be in the place where there 
ain't no water at all." 

" Right you are," said the drummer, who had become 
an interested listener. 

" It had rained'in the mountain the night belore," Gil- 
der proceeded, " and the road was mud all the way up till 
it got so steep it slipped off and slid down, so that where 
it was level enough to pull we'd stall in the mud, and 
where there wa'n't no mud we'd stall on the steep. I 

didn't call the Sunday-school teacher's attention to the 
state of the case, but drove right at it, head on, and she 
didn't seem to take notice. Leastwise, when I kind of 
glanced back at the wagon she was under cover and quiet. 
Ver about half an hour we dragged through somehow, 
trustin' in Providence, but gittin' a leetle slower all the 
;ime, me a-lickin' the team with both hands and yeliin', 
but bein' pertickeler in my languidge for the lady's sake, 
seein' she had Sunday-school scruples not fitted fer drivin' 
mules as they should be drove. 1 seen our finish right 
ahead, but I kept on exhortin' them mules till they sort o' 
give up the ghost and stopped as if they had been drove 
into the ground and clinched." 

"You don't know how to handle mules," said the post- 
master with fine scorn. 

" I know how to be a gentleman when there's latlies 
present," Gilder retorted at this aspersion upon his profes- 
sional skill ; " which mebbe everybody don't, but that's not 
the question before the house. Seein' something had to 
be done er go into camp, I got off of the saddle mule and 
tried workin' 'em from the ground, but it wa'n't no use. 
Them mules was stuck and they knowed it ; which is when 
it takes talent to convince a mule to the contrairy. I 
knowed what to do, but a lady bein' in hearin' of the lan- 
guidge necessary, I couldn't do nothin' but set down on 
a rock and cogitate the situation without appropriate re- 
marks. In about three minutes, when everything had set- 
tled down as if we had bought the property and was goin' 
to live on it, I seen the wagon cover shakin', and right 
afterwerds the Sunday-school teacher stuck her head out 
from in under and swep' the lanskip with her piercin' eye, 
as the border tales says. I was in the foreground settin' 
on that rock like I had been hewed out of it. 

" ' What is wrong, Mr. Gilder ?' says she, callin' me 
nister, which nobody would 'a' knowed me by that name," 
Gilder chuckled. 

"'We're stalled, ma'm,' says I, holdm' back what was 
proper to say on sich an occasion. 

" ' Must I get out of the wagon ?' says she. 

"' Not at all, ma'm," says 1, doin' the Chestyfield to a 
turn. 'If the' — I come mighty nigh blurtin' it right out, I 
was that full up — ' If the mules can't pull you out they 
can't pull nothin'.' 

"'Have you tried every, means to make them pull?' 
says she, hangm' on. 

"'Most, ma'm,' says I, with a mental reservation, as 
they say on the witness-stand, which she noticed quick. 

" ' Oh,' says she, ' if you think you can make them pull 
by whipping them, don't hesitate on my account. I don't 
believe in being cruel to animals, Mr. Gilder, but we must 
get to town.' 

" ' Yes'm,' says I, not havin' much else to remark on the 
subject that I could say before her, bein' a Sunday-school 
teacher and a lady. 

" ' Well, try the whip on them again,' says she, and with 
that she went plumb out of sight under the wagon-cover. 
I lit in ag'in with renewed energy, as they say in print, 
and I larrupped the blacksnake around them mules till it 
was a shame and an outrage, but it wa'n't no good as I 
knowed it wouldn't be. They was broke different. 

" Purty soon her head bobbed out from in under the 

wagon-cover agin. It was so still outside that she got 
nervous, I reckon. I was settin' on the rock in the last 
stages of a hopeless contemplation, as they say. 

" ' Mr. Gilder,' says she in a different tone of expression, 
' if you will help me a moment I'll get out of the wagon.' 

" 'There ain't no use in troublin' yourself, ma'm,' says 
I, gittin' up and movin' over her way. 'If they kin pull any- 
thing tliey kin pull you. You ain't a fly on tlie harness.' 

" ' That may be, Mr. Gilder,' says she powerful polite, 
' but if I get out and go on to the top of the mountain, out 
of hearing, possibly \ou can urge them properly. 1 know 
something about mules.' 

"She kind of laughed when she said it, and to save my 
everlastin' reputation I couldn't help gittin' red in the face 
and givin' myself dead away, but she never let on." 

The postmaster and the drummer nodded at each other 
as if they appreciated the position of Mr. Gilder. 

" ' All right, ma'm,' says I, bowin' my best, ' if you insist 
on gittin' out fer a walk you kin, but I ain't sayin' you've 
got to.' 

" ' But I'm sayin' it, Mr. Gilder,' says she, ' fer I must 
be in town to-night,' and she begun climbin' out all by 

" Knowin' some how women is when they git sot in 
their way, I lent a hand to the lady, and in a minute she 
was out and hoofin' it up the hill like a mountain sheep. 
As she went out of sight she stopped and waved her hand 
at me to come ahead. 

" Whereupon and hence I turned loose on them mules the 
kind of languidge they understood, and in about five minutes, 
they had that wagon yanked out of the mud and was goin'' 
up hill like a cog-wheel incline. I was some skeered that 
she might be waitin' fer me where the last pull was at the- 
top, but not anv. 1 found her settin' serene on a stump. 
half a mile down the other side with some flowers in her 
hands that she give me when I helped her to git aboard 
ag'in, and she snickered some and said she was very much 
obliged to me indeed. Which the obligation was all on, 
me fer her havin" give me the chance." 

" Mules is almighty pertickeler in their habits," com-. 
mented the postmaster retrospectively. 

" She was a lady, all right," said the drummer, and Big 
Jack, with a nod and smile towards him, knocked thft 
ashes out of his pipe again and sighed. 

Sonnet in Summer. 

By a clerk. 

ON HIGH stool seated, right beneath the tiles, 
Methought from out my perch aerial here 
How better were a foaming glass of beer 
Than penning stupid docum-.-nts by miles. 
For, ah ! not easily one reconciles 

Sweet summer with the desk and inky smear. 
Vacation smiles but only once a year, 
And beer alone the leaden hours beguiles. 
The wealthy ones have to the seashore flown ; 
They walk the shady side of Easy street ; 

By wind and wave they're metamorphosed brown ;-, 
But when the clock strikes five and time's my own. 
Then beer, cool beer, is compensation sweet 

For all my griefs — and won't I pour it down ! 

H. G. 


Ji s 

■yi r- 

t: • 

:= t- 


;:< § M K 


r4T&^ Trie ClRCl/5 TlftlJETS 


ED /nOTT. 

"Of course that little 
caper o' the lightnin' 
made "Lije and Katury's 
goin' to the show look 
IJE PERGENKAMPER is foller- somethin' out o' the question, and things was gloomy 
in' Caleb Cronk up, sure as he's around them premises, and no mistake. Josh Roper owed 

livin', and if there's any law 
worth a pint o' shoe-pegs, he'll 
make Caleb sweat, I bet you ! 
Will he ? Well, you jest listen 
to me, and then jedge !" 

^Sol Cribber, of the Pochuck 
district, was over to the Corners, 
and another chapter of doings, 

•Lije nine dollars and forty-three cents on a choppin' job, 
but Josh had run all to emptyin's on cash, and there wa'n't 
much show of 'Lije gittin' any from him not for no tellin' 
how long ; but Katury got an idee. 

" • 'Lije,' she says, 'you go over to Josh's and tell him 
that you hate to pester him, 'cause yon know he's a little 
close to the wind, but that there's a circus comin' and some- 
thin' has got to be did. Tell him,' says Katury, ' that you'll 

fresh from that interesting precinct, was surely ready for take that old ewe sheep o' his'n and call it square,' says 


"If there ever was disapp'inted, heartsore and sot-down- 
on folks, them folks is 'Lije Pergenkaniper antl his wife 
Katury. And if conscience ever got a clutch on to any 
one and give 'em nightmares, then conscience ought to 
have a hitch on to Caleb Cronk enough to make him shed 
scaldin' tears. 

" Five year or so ago a circus come along to that baili- 
wick, and 'Lije and Katury got tickets to the show for let- 
tin' the showmen stick some pictur's on to their cow-shed 
door. There hadn't been a show of any sort along that 
way sence, not till last week, and when 'Lije and Katury 
heerd it was comin', somethin' like a month ago, they was 
feelin' chipper as catbirds, 'cause they was pretty nigh sure 
that the show 'd want the cow-shed door ag'in 
for pictur's. Sure enough, the show feller druv 
up to 'Lije's one day, jest ahead of a big thunder- 
storm that was bearin' down on to that edge o' 
the deestrict. 'Lije asked him in the house, 
and he d rawed up the papers for the cow-shed 
door and 'Lije signed 'em. 'Lije made an all- 
fired good bargain with him, too, for the feller 
throwed in tickets for the man-eatin' cannibal 
and the pig that played keerds. 

"Well, sir, jest as the feller was signin' the 
paper for the tickets a blaze o' lightnin' bustetl 
out right over the farm and swooped down on 
to the cow-shed. In less time than I kin tell 
you, the cow-shed was snappin' and crackin', 
and the consekences was that before they hardly 
knowed what was goin' on, there wasn't no 
cow-shed door left to stick a pictur' on. Of 
course that ended the deal right there, and 
Katury took on tremendous, for she had sot her 
heart on goin' to the show, and here there 
wasn't another thing on the place to stick a pic- 
tur' on. 

" Some folks, 'Lije says, mowt 'a' thought 
that Katury "d felt wuss over the cow bein' 
killed in the shed by the lightnin' than over the wipin' off 
o' the face o' the earth of a 3 by 6 slab door ; but setch 
folks ain't acquainted with Katury's y'arnin's, he says. 

"■Cows ain't skeerce,' says Katury, 'but I'll bet there 
won't be another circus within a hundred mile o' this 
spread 0' hemlock not in forty year,' she says. ' Least- 
ways, not one with a pig that plays keerds, and a man- 
eatin' cannibal,' she says. 

she. ' Them show folks has got to have meat for their 
animals,' she says, ' and you kin trade 'em that sheep for 
tickets to the show,' she says ; • but stick to havin' 'em for 
the pig that plays keerds and the man-eatin' cannibal,' she 

"'Lije he went over to Josh's on the jump. Josh he 
wa'n't no way slow on takin' him up, for he couldn't 'a' o-ot 
five shillin' for the ewe. 'Lije druv the sheep home, and 
things cheered up around there amazin'. 

" This Caleb Cronk lives jest beyend 'Lije's, and never 
had no cow-shed nor nothin' else that anybody could stick 
a show pictur' on to, so when he heerd that 'Lije was 
spectin' to hire his cow-shed door for tickets to the show 
he was madder 'n a snake, 'cause he didn't have no shad- 


der of a chance o' }.;ittin' there himself. Then when he 
heerd that 'Lije's shed was eat up by lightnin', and that 
the deal for tickets was off, he come over to 'Lije's, grinnin' 
meaner than a hyeny. 

"'So you've changed your mind about goin' to the 
show, have you .'' he says to 'Lije. ' It's goin' to be a 
hummer, they tell me,' he says. 

" Liie didn't say much to him, 'cause he knowed that 

Caleb couldn't go neither, and there was some consolation 
in that, for if Caleb had been goin 'Lije says he'd 'a' jumped 
on to him right then and thumped him so that he couldn't 
'a' got out in a month. And 'Lije made a big mistake by 
not doin' it ; I tell i'('« he did ! 

•■ But when 'Lije got Josh Roper's old sheep, and 
Caleb heerd what he was calculatin' on doin' with it, Caleb 
was madder than before, and he come over to 'Lije's and 
said he had his opinion of folks that 'd trade off an inno- 
cent old sheep for lions and tigers to tear up and eat, jest 
to git in and see a circus that wa'r.'t goin' to amount to 
much, anyhow. 'Lije laughed at Caleb, and twitted him 
'cause he couldn't git to go to the show, and asked him 
how much of his clearin' he'd give to be him and Katury 
on show day. Yit 'Lije felt sorry for him, to think what 
him and Katury was goin' to see and Caleb was goin' 
to miss. 

" On the mornin' o' the day before the show 'Lije went 
out to take a look at the siieep, and the sheep was gone ! 
A bear had come out o' the woods, killed the sheep and eat 
it all up but a piece of its tail, right on the premises, with- 
out 'Lije ever gittin' an inklin' of it. Katury swooned dead 
away when 'Lije went in with the news, and he savs he 
felt like singin' • Hark, from the tombs,' and throwin' 
ashes all over himself. When Katury come to she give a 
few gulns, and then says to 'Lije, 

•• • Don't you say a word so that Caleb's folks '11 hear o' 
this, 'she says. ' I'd rather go right over Jurdan this minute.' 

" So Lije kep' mum. .A.ntl he gloomed for a couple o' 
days. Then Caleb comie over, grinnin' wuss than ever. 

" • Didn't see you and Katury to the show,' he says. 
' It was a liummer !' he says. 

" ' How do you know ?' says 'Lije, turnin' cold. 

" ' Why, me and my folks was there,' says Caleb, 
chucklin' gleefully. 

" Then 'Lije most fell dead. 

" ' Yes,' says Caleb. ' Mornin' afore the show I seen a 
big bear sneakin' kind o'quarierin' away from your place, 
off towards the woods," he says. • I got my gun and headed 
the bear off,' he says. ' I only had to shoot him once," he 
says. ' And who do you think bought him ? The head 
showman ! He give me ten dollars for him, and tickets 
for me and Hanner and all the young uns, and to the pig 
that played keerds and the man-eatin' cannibal, too. Sorry 
you and Katury changed your minds,' says he. ' You 
missed a heap,' says he. 

" .A.nd now 'Lije Pergenkamper is foUerin' Caleb Cronk 
up, and if there's any law worth a pint o' shoe-pegs he'll 
sock it to him and make him sweat ! Why ? That bear 
stole 'Lije's sheep and knocked him and Katury out o' 
gittin' to the show. Caleb killed that bear with 'Lije's 
sheep in it, and got to the show that the bear knocked 
him and Katury out of. If that ain't sheep-stealin' it's 
excessory after the fact, by gallinippers ! And if 'Lije 
don't sock it to Caleb and make him sweat, then there 
ain't no law worth a pint o' shoe-pegs I" * 


The lover — " Here, mister, would youse mind goin' roun' de corner to de foist house youse comes ter an' play S' methin' 
soft an' sentimental-like fer a penny ?" 

f^r ( 

"Yes, siree ; Bill evened up fer thet bar'l o' dy-luted merlasse^ 
slicker 'n scat. After the tradin' was all done ole Crawford says tir 
Bill, 'Them turkeys o' yourn weighs right sinart fer their size.' 
'Yep,' says Bill, takin' a fresh chaw o' terbacky, easy like ; 'tliey 
orter. I ben a-feedin' 'em up on buckshot fer quite a spell.' Tlien 
they looks at each other real friendly like — same as them two dugs 
o' ourn when they meets up sudden an' onexpected." 


Looking Ahead. 

IT'S a great thing to look ahead. There was the case of 
the intellectual evangelist who stayed durin' the pro- 
tracted meetin' with my brother Reuben. Jest before 
church-time Reub says to him, says he, " I'll 
go down to church with you. I'm goin' to 
git religion before this evenin's meetin' 's 
over. But I'll have to hurry home a leetle 
early, so's to fi.\ the furnace-fire 'fore it goes 
out." " Better fix it 'fore you go," says the 
evangelist. " If I monkey with that fire be- 
fore I go to church," says Reuben, "I'll not be 
able to git religion at the meetin'. I'll be so 
mad all evenin' that promises of heaven won't 
charm me nor thoughts of hell-fire scare 
me." " All right," says the evangelist ; " fix 
it jest the same. If you fix it before meetin' 
you won't be converted ; but if you fix it 
afterward you'd backslide if you was. Back- 
slidin' 's worse than nothin'. I wouldn't try 
to git converted if I was you until after cold 
weather had passed on an' the furnace-fire 
was off your mind. Git religion in the spring ; 
then you'll have a peaceful summer to be- 
come strong in the service of the Lord be- 

fore winter an' the furnace come agin." That evan- 
gelist lost the credit of convertin' Reub. He caught 
religion from another exhorter in the early spring. 
But with all summer to work up self-restraint he got 
in sech fine moral shape that, when winter come 
ag'in, he could tend that fire with no worse language 
than " Blim drat !" an' " I'll be swozzled !" 


Will Get His Wish. 

IVJO," said the billionaire, with deep conviction in 
his voice ; " I would consider myself in error 
indeed should I die while I have even a tenth of the 
wealth I now possess. It is my wish to die compara- 
tively poor." 

" Oil, you dear old papa !" exclaimed his fair and 
only daughter as she embraced hi:n. " The duke pro- 
posed last night and I accepted him. Isn't that just 
your luck ?" 

His Argument. 

QTANLEY was planning to penetrate darkest Africa. 
" But," protested his friends, " think of the danger 
of exploring an absolutely unmapped country !" 

" That's nothing," he replied ; " I shal luse a fash- 
ion-pattern diagram." 

Realizing that any possible road would surely be 
there, they could think of no further objection to offer. 


ERE'S an ignoramus," said the assistant, •• who 
writes to ask when the Christian era began." 
" Humph !" said the answers-to-correspondents edi- 
tor. " I think we're a long way from it yet." 


THE people who are most skillful at seeing the silver 
lining to the cloud are usually the umbrellaless ones 
that blockade your doorway while waiting for the rain 
to stop. 

A Difference ■with a Distinction. 

Jaggles — "I suppose bric-a-brac is often sold for junk?" 
Waggles — "Not nearly so often as junk is sold for 

Well, what are you studying in your arithmetic, piggy ?" 

Ma hog 

Piggy — " I'm interested very much in a problem of square root, ma, 

Possibly So. 

nVES, children," said 
Uncle Henry; "the 
fishes in the sea go in 

" Do they go in swim- 
ming-schools ?" asked 
the smart nephew, who 
was planning to enter 

" Most of em," replied 
Uncle Henr)'. " But the 
sea-horses go to riding- 
schools, and ihe star- 
fishes go to astronomical 
schools, and the seal goes 
to a law-school, and the 
sword-fish goes to a mili- 
tary school, and the saw- 
fish to a manual-training 

" And where does the 
lobster go ?" asked the 
smart nephew. 

" He doesn't go any- 
where. He stays at 
home and practices his 
college yell." 

A Change in Method. 

.£■///— "Hello, Jake! 
Yer lookin' mighty re- 
spectable nowadays. 
Have yer quit de bunco 
business ? ' 

Jake — " Not on yer 
life ! I'm runnin' a cor- 
respondence school." 


Their Past. 

(( ALL right," says the 
rich father, after 
the count has stated his 
terms ; " I'll let Sadie 
marry you and agree to 
turn over to you one mil- 
lion dollars. Now, let's 
get it fixed up properly. 
Suppose we say one thou- 
sand dollars down and 
the balance at two dol- 
lars a week." 

Here Sadie bursts into 
tears and leaves the 

" Now, ma," says the 
rich father to his wife, 
" what on earth 's the 
matter with that girl ?" 

" Well, I don't blame 
her at all, pa. It seems 
as if you never could 
keep from betraying the 
fact that we are of ple- 
beian origin." 

"What have I done 
now ?" asks pa. 

" Why, you talk as if 
you were buying the 
count from an install- 

Willie — "I simply c.m't practice my piitno-lesson, mamma — it 

makes me too nervous." 

Mother — "What are you going to do this afternoon?" 
Willie — " Wliy — cr — I've got to put in si.\ liours' practice with 

our 'drum-corps.' " 

'■ 1 o r yachtsman is 
what might be called a 
genuine single-sticker. 


Kind lady — " Was there a woman in vour case ?" i • u r> 

Prisoner— "Wimmen. miss— wimmeii! Huh! If dere wuz only c«<- it 'd bin all right. Uere 
wuz five er six. Dat's wot I'm here far." 

I'< 5 

Cf^ V/o\ <->".' 

" There goes Smith. Used to be a lion before he got married." 
'• Looks like a truck-horse now." 


Officer •' If you haven't a license you will have to accompany me." 

Grinder— •• -■VU right, sir — wliat will you sing ?" 




Ye Femayle Monk. 

A FEMAYLE Monk once lived in 
povertie & longed to be nch & 

Alle her life she hadde been gay 
& festive, & ye gossips woulde gath- 
er atte ye sewing circle & shake 
their heddes & say : 
3|S?t»^<t'f:^i IB " She is a verie forward young 

- ' " ' '' '' ' ' - -^^-^M^^B person !" & thenne they wouUle 
stop their missionarie talk for a few 
moments to tear her reputation into 
Alsoe ye menne shied at her & stayed afar off. For 
itte was soe thalte she was too bolde & menne hadde a 
reputation to sustain, egad ! 

Butte one day she attained ye zenith of notorietie atte 
one felle swoop. She didde somethynge thatte shocked ye 
Monk societie to ye foundations. 
& thenne hj:r fortune was mayde. 

For she went straightway uponne ye stage & managers 
paid her manie plunks per week. She was inne ye public 
eye & everybodye wanted to see her — for she was ye limit 
inne notorietie. 

She hadde passed beyond ye sewing-circle stage & ye 
whole worlde talked about her & her awfulle reputation. 

Wherefore she married a duke & flirted with a king & 
didde stunts with affayres of State. 

Menne fell over one another to pay her homage & ye 
ladies copied her clothes & tried to dress their hayre like 
hers. For she was one femayle Monk who could shock 
ye worlde to ye limit. Therefore she was a wonderfulle 
woman & verie much to be cultivated and copied, gad- 
zooks ! 

She was a sinner, yea, verilie ; but hers was ye kind of 
a sin thatte maketh itself respected by its magnitude. 

& soe itte was thatte she lived a long life of ease & 
owned her own race-horses & was known far & wide as 
" Ye White Rose." 

Ye which symbolized her life in ye minds of her wor- 
shippers, ye menne & women Monks of an entire worlde. 

For whenne sin becometh blackest itte turneth wliite 
inne ye eyes of ye sedde worlde. 

& thys is ye lesson we gather from ye life & escapades 
of " Ye White Rose." 

First Burble : Never embark in crime unless thou art 
prepared to go ye limit. 

Second Jolt: Ye Monkey worlde loveth a plunger in 
crime — but itte hath no use for a piker. 

Third Wallop : Monkeys be verie like human beings. 

spotte, cS: satte down to rest & eate ye said bones, when 
uppe came a yellow dogge whose wit was sharp, but 
whose stomach was exceeding leane. 

Now the yellow dogge was a speculator. " By my 
father's dew-claws !" said he, " but these be two fine bones !" 
& he licked hys lips & wagged hys tayle most friendlie. 

" Lette me take your bones & invest them !" said the 
yellow dogge. " Behold ! I will lette thee inne on ye 
ground floor !" 

Now, ye first dogge was a cautious dogge. Wherefore 
he growled merelie, & went on eating hys bone ; but ye 
other pup was a born gambler, & he gave uppe hys bone 
to ye speculator, who took itte & trotted away. 

" Lo !" said ye speculator, wagging hys tayle, " I will 
take itte away & burie itte. & thou shalt be rich whea 
we make ye Big Stryke !" & he was gone. 

" Thou art a fool !" said ye cautious dogge, as he licked 
up ye last bit of gristle, & sighed contentedly. 

But ye speculative pup drew himself uppe proudlie. " I 
have no hone, itte is true," he said coldly. " But I have 
made an Investment." 

•' I have no bone either," said ye cautious dogge, " but 
I have hadde a goode dinner." 

By & by they went on. After a while they came to a 
brook where ye yellow dogge was taking an after-dinner 
drink of water. 

" Where is my bone ?" said ye speculating pup. 

" I am surprised at thee !" said ye yellow dogge in a 
hurt tone. " Tliy bone hath been absorbed !" & he went 
hys way looking for another Easy Thynge. 

" Alas ! "wailed ye Victim sadlie, " Investment soundeth 
big, but itte bringeth no bones !" Whereupon he kicked 
dirt at hys departing friend, & satte down & howled atte 
ye moon. 

& ye cautious dogge satte down also, & scratched fleas 
while thinking within hymself thys bit of philosophy : 

First Yap : Trust notte ye man who undertaketh to- 
make two bones grow where but one grew before. 

Second Scratch : Trust naught to the man who is 
hungrier than thyself. 

Third Bow-wow : A bone inne ye stomach is worth two- 
on ye Stock Exchange. 

Ye Speculator. 

/^N'CE UPONNE a tyme two honest, hard-working dog- 

^^ ges were going along ye highway carrying each a bone. 

& it came to pass that presentlie they came to a shadie 

Ye Olde Dogge. 

/^NCE UPONNE a tyme there lived an Olde Dogge who- 
satte out on ye streete corner & gave advice. 

Yea, itte was soe thatte no other dogge could pass thatte 
way withoute carrying away with hynime a large hunk of 
valuable advice. Ye Olde Dogge charged naught for itte, 
but was immeasurablie glad to be able to give itte gratis,. 
God wot. 

Ye Olde Dogge hymself grew ragged & seedie. There- 
were ratnests inne hys hayre & burrs inne hys tayle ; yet he 
wist notte of these thynges. He was so busie giving advice. 

Ye fleas roved over hys mangy hyde, butte he was too 


busie even to scratch. Foxes sneaked into ye back yard 
& stole alle ye poultry, butte ye Olde Dogge knew naught 
of itte. He was notte a fox-hound. He was a chronic 
giver of advice. 

Whenne other dogges were hard atte work burying 
bones thys Okie Dogge woulde have some other dogge cor- 
nered, handing out a wealth of advice regarding ye care 
of hys coat & How to Succeed. He knew itte alle — 
from ye bottom round of ye ladder of success plumb to ye 
top thereof — yette never hadde he climbed ye sedde ladder. 

He was a dogge of theories. He wist notte thatte a 
theory thatte hath been proved is whatte menne love. Hys 
theories might be wrong — butte they were good theories, 

Now itte came to pass thatte ye Olde Dogge began to 
wake uppe. He saw alle ye other dogges sleek & prosper- 
ous. They were fatte & they hadde one & alle manie 
bones buried out in ye back yard agaynst ye rainie day. 

Butte ye Olde Dogge hadde naught save ye rheumatism 
& a board bille. He hadde lost hys voice giving advice ; 
butte ye dogges who hadde listened to hys advice alle ye 
yeares now passed hymme by, saying, 

" What a bore Olde Towser is, to be sure !" 

Thenne ye Olde Dogge crawled under ye house to die. 

" Behold ! Alle my life have I been busie giving advice 
— whenne, marry & alack ! I hadde notte sense enough to 
take care of mine own prosperitie !" & he died. 

& thys is ye lesson we gather from ye life & death of 
ye Olde Dogge : 

First Wizzle : If thy advice be goode — take itte thyself. 
If itte be badde — keep itte to thyself. 

Second Gurgle : Lette everie manne take care of hym- 
self — & ye worlde will be comfortable. 

Third Sneeze : Ere thou give advice be sure itte is 
goode. Ere thou take itte — be twice sure. 


The landlady — "I'm afraid Mr. Slopay has forgotten what a large bill he owes me." 
The star boarder — " No, he hain't. He said only yesterday that he wished he had money enough to move.' 
















































































































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"Uncle Henry, these aigs hain't as fresh as they ouglit to be." 
'■Well. I hain't surprised. We giv tlie hens thet health-food 
ye sold us last month, an' thet wan't very fresh, either." 

A Test, Indeed. 

cony and gazed into his lady-love's fair face. 

" Though we part to-night," he said, his voice shak- 
ing with emotion, " my love for you will remain as 
steadfast as ever. Call on me to show it whenever you 
like, and gladly will I undergo the severest test. 
Though I lie thousands of miles away from you " 

Kalhryn Futuregirl placed her hand upon his bowed 

" Ah !" she cried, " do not use that expression ot 
which our ancestors were so fontl. Say not that you 
• will fly to me.' That is no test nowadays. Promise 
me, if I ask you to, you will walk to me from the far- 
thermost corners of the world." 

And so great was Reginald's love that, with liis 
hand upon his heart and his foot upon the air-ship 
beside the balcony, he promised. It was the supreme 
test, indeed, in this year 2002. 

No Longer in Business. 

Maud — "O , Uncle George ! did you see the medi- 
cine-man of the tribe of Intlians that you visited ?" 

Uncle George — " No, Maud. I discovered that he 
retired several jears ago in favor of the patent-medi- 

Absolutely Necessary. 

(( RUT, my dear," sai 1 Mrs. Fosdick in surprise, " you 
said you were very hard up. If that is the 
case we can't afford to give the swell reception you 

" That's just it," rejoined Mr. Fosdick. " I am 
dreadfully hard up, antl we can't afford not to give it." 

The Way Out of It. 

IT was midnight. 

The emperor sat puzzling over the naval budget for 
the coming year. 

" The royal treasury is empty, your majesty," said the 
-chancellor of the exchequer gravely, " and the taxes are 
twenty-eight months in arrears. We are 

" You may call a peace-conference to 
consider the question of universal dis- 
armament," said the emperor, " and re- 
duce the naval esiimate by twenty million 
roubles." He turned away wearily. 
" Saved by a length," he whispered. 

A Liberal View. 

(( UIAVE you seen much of Miss Dumonde? 
* ' She's apt to be reserved, tliey say, 
.■\nd seldom lets one get beyond 

The commonplace of every day. " 

■" Oh. yes, indeed ! I saw so much 

That really I was stricken mute, 
Although I only met her once — 

But — she was in her bathing-suit !" 


Well Qualified. 

(( IS IT possible that you have intrusted the management 
of your campaign to a woman ?" 
"It is; and don't you worry about it. The lady just 
recently got herself elected organist of one of the most 
populous churches in this town." 

A Musical Confession. 

^ T DODGE the flying bootjack 

That's thrown to ^mash my skull ; 
'. he cuspidore I side-step 
In manner beautiful. 

But unto twenty booljacks. 
That twenty pitchers jcjin 

In hurtling toward my b. dy 
I note one shining coin. 

I glean the coin and side-step 
The missiles, don't ;,'ou seek, 

E'en as I scoop the sunshine 
And from the shadow flee. 

I e'er look on the bright side, 
A philosophic gent, 

.\nd face nusfortune's lx>>tjack 
To gather fortune's cent. 

The Paticntcst Feller 

As related by the Job Hill Man 

E WAS the patientest feller I ever 

see," remarked the man iVom Job 

Hill as he sat in the store the other 

t^ ^- v^v^B ''''-■ "Jifn Barker didn't have such 

^^i^" . B^-jB a thing as anger about him. No 

matter what happened, he could 

explain it, and when Jim could 

explain a thing it didn't bother him 

no more'n a skeeter on the other side yer 

window screen. I never see no such man 

as Jim was, before ner since, never. 

" Whv, one day Jim's wife ups and runs 
awav, and he didn't blame her at all ; said 
no doubt she was actin' accordin' to her 
best lights, and if he had been in her place he'd 'a' done 
jest the same. A man never judged a woman fair, 
any way. Jim said, because a man wasn't a woman and 
didn't know anything about woman nature. 

" I asked Jim if he didn't think his wife might have left 
some of the furniture, and at least a part of the money he 
had stowed away in an old boot in a closet, instead of gob- 
blin' up the whole thing and luggin' it off while he was 
in town selling a calf 

••'Well, now, look-a-here,' was Jim's words, 'you 
can't blame a woman like you would a man. 'Taint her 
nature to do things by halves. She does it or she don't, 
and there you are. No half-way about it. She never 
thinks of dividin' things up, as you might say. I s'pose 
she wanted somethin" along to remember the place by and 
she jest naturally took the hull caboodle.' 

" Yes ; but how about that bow-legged swindler she ran 
off with ? I asked Jim. You ain't going to let him go scot 
tree, are you ? 

•• ' Slow, now,' is the way Jim came back at me. ' Don't 
go too fast. He ma}' be bow-legged to you and me, but 
then you and me ain't runnin' away with him. Look at 
him from her standpoint. To her he doubtless looks all 
straight and o. k. You've got to look at everything from 
the proper standpoint. It's the standpoint that makes all 
the difference.' 

" Now, that was Jim Barker all over. Always talkin' 
about the standpoint and explainin' things easy and quiet- 
like. Why, one time he was goin" to a barn-raisin' and a 
dance, and his wife put his best pants out on the line to 
air, intendin' to give 'em a press and a breshin' after. But 
she fergot that part, and when Jim was dressin' he called 
fer them pants — all the good pants he had — and there the 
goat was a-chewin' at 'em and one leg nearly et up. But 
Jim didn't go out and kill that goat. He didn't abuse his 
wife, as some would. He didn't have a fit or a spasm, or 
anything like that. He said it was the goat's nature. He 
would have done the same if he had 'a' been a goat. Any- 
body would. Then he stayed at home and read the bible 
all evenin'. 

'• Jim had a cow once — the ornriest, stubbornest critter 
1 ever see. I'd 'a' brained that beast with an axe inside of a 

day. But Jim didn't. He jest pitied hpr. One day he 
made a nice flower-bed, and it was a beauty. Soon 
as he went away that cow got in the yard and went 
and stood in that flower-bed all afternoon, and stamped 
her feet and switched flies. When Jim see her there he 
didn't knock her liver out with a fence rail. He didn't 
pour kerosene over her and light a match. He didn't tie 
her on the railroad, so's the Cannon-Bail express would 
hit her. No, sir. He jest led her away soft-like, sayin' to 
hisself, ' the fine dirt felt good to her feet. I'd 'a' done jest 
the same if I'd 'a' been a cow.' 

" I never see Jim Barker show the slightest what yoti 
may call nen'ousness but once," said the man from Job 
Hill as he lit his cigar and began to get his bundles 
together. "Once, I'll admit, Jim was mad — mad for him. 
He had a boil on his neck — one of the carbuncle kind, you 
know — and it was a whopper. I can see that boil on Jim's 
neck now if I shet my eyes and think a little. Well, one 
day Jim was settin' out on the steps with his head restin' 
between his hands and that boil puUin" on him pretty- 
strong, A big, white rooster, with whiskers on his feet, 
was foolin' round pretty close to Jim and sort o" peekin* 
round to see what he could see, when his eye lit on that 
big poppin' boil. Well, sir, that rooster jest stood and 
gazed at that boil fer about a minute, Jim not takin' notice, 
his head bein' between his hands, you know. By'n'by old 
whisker-feet edges up to look at it a little closer, when, all 
of a sudden, out goes his neck and the rooster had pecked 
Jim's boil ! Jim jumped into the air about sixteen feet, I 
reci;on, and as he lit on earth again he caught sight of old 
whiskers leggin' it for the tall timber. At first I thought 
Jim was goin' to give his nibs the surprise of his life, but 
he didn't. He looked at that rooster a minute and then 
went back and set down on the steps. 

•' The only reason I think Jim was what you might call 
flurried a little bit, fer once, is because I heard him say, 
' I s'pose if I'd 'a' been a rooster I'd 'a' done the same.' 
Then he suddenly flared up and said, ' No ! I'll be dummed 
if I would.' 

•• It was the kind o' brisk way he said it that made me 
think fer once Jim had lost his temper a little mite.' 

Poesie a la Mode. 

I AM going to make a poem, and I think that I shall take 
' A league or so of shadowy sky, a dim, mist-haunted lake. 
With the pale wraith of a legend floating o'er it like a spell — 
But this strange, blood-chiUing legend I must never really tell. 

There must be a blotch of color and a mystery intense. 
But with music, feeling, beauty one can easily dispense ; 
And — though this is all sub-rosa — it is be<t to leave out sense. 

When I've made the litde poem, 

Blurring over very well 
Any careless trace of clearness, 

I am sure the thing will sell. 



"Well, you're a great one ! Yesterday you borrowed ten of me, saying you were hard up, and now you 
are here eating red-headed duck and all sorts of things." 

" Well, if I hadn't borrowed the ten I couldn't eat red-headed duck." 

The Logical Man. 

•li/HEN the logical man is unwell, so they say, 
• ■ Then everything seems to get tangled straightway, 
Which causes conditions quite other than gay 

At the home of the logical man — • 
The philological, psychological, physiological man, 
The biological, myological, anthropological man. 
The chronological, horological, logical, logical man. 

He scolds and he grumbles from morning till night. 
He's as cross as a bear and as ready to bite, 
He grows disputatious and vows black is white 

When he's ill. does the logical man — 
The pen* logical, phrenological, demonological man. 
The conchological. cryptological. craniological man, 
The pomological, dosological, logical, logical man. 

His speech is absurd, his behavior is queer. 
To both sense and reason he turns a deaf ear ; 
His mind is upset, it is woefully clear 

When he's ill, this poor logical man — 
This hydrological, thermological, technicological man, 
This geological, astrological, sociological man, 
This neological, noOlogical, logical, logical man. 

Till he gets so perverse he will fight to maintain 
That twice two are five, or a sphere is a plane ; 
Alas ! 'tis a fact he is quasi insane 

When he's ill, is the logical man — 
The topological, typological, termonological man, 
The pathological, ethnological, dermatological man, 
The zymological, nosological, histiological man. 
The one-time logical, not now logical, very /// logical man. 


Full of Ginger. 

({ I SEE that Sissy Futlites, the celebrated stage beauty 
and flirt, is announced as engaged upon her autobi- 
ography," says the literary man. 

" Her autobiography ?" says the wise man. " It'll 
be an autosellography if she tells all she knows, won't 


Teacher — " How much is a pint?" 
Jimmy Maloxe — '• Ten cents." 

Should Have Known Better. 

Good Guess. 

(( li/HAT started the trouble between the Browns ?" n TOMMY TADDELLS," said the teacher of the gram- 

" Brown asked his wife a question while she was mar class, •• what is the feminine of ' vassal '?" 

trying to put her hair up a new way." " Vassaline, ma'am," replied Tommy promptly. 

^., -(■^^^f*H,«:M*>'*^ 

The jack-mule — "There seems to be a powerful resemblance betwixt you and I about the face and ears." 
The jack-rabbit — "Yes ; and a more powerful one is that with us both our force lies in our hind legs." 


Boss — "Well, what kind of a salary would you start in on ?" 
IzzY — " Ten t'ousand a year." 
Boss— " What ?" 
IzZY — "Yep ; but you kin beat me down to two dollars und fifty cents a week.' 

A Constant Patron. 

A LADY enters the 
shop of the picture- 
framer and leaves an or- 
der. When she has gone 
the maker of frames turns 
to a customer who has 
been waiting and says, 

"That lady certainly is 
a good patron of mine." 

" Gives you a good 
deal of work, does she ?" 

" Not a great deal ; but 
if she continues as she 
has this summer I can 
count on a regular in- 
come from her. In May 
she came to get her col- 
lege-diploma framed ; in 
June she had me fix up 
her marriage -certificate 
in a neat gilt moulding ; 
and now she wants her 
divorce-decree mounted 
and framed." 

H UOW did your col- 
' ' lege cousin have 
his new photograph tak- 
en — full front ?" 

" No; halfback. He 
is on the football team." 


'Fore Sister Put Long Dresses On. 

•ORE sister put long dresses on I had just lots o' fun 
A-play in' games with her, for then she used t' kick an' run, 
Er rassle good as any boy, an' didn't miud a bit 
A-doin' things that mentioned now jes makes her tlirow a fit ! 
What brought about the sudden change is more'n I can tell — 
She used t' like t' hear me laugh an' stamp my feet an^ yell. 
An' lots o' times 'twa'n't me alone that raised ol' Ned, you know, 
'Fore sister put long dresses on, an' went an' caught a beau ! 

You'd think t' see her now she'd been as quiet as a mouse 
Her whole life long, an' never raised such rackets in the house 
A-chasin' me up stairs an' down, that ma with achin' head 
Tol' pa on us, an' he — he sent us supperless t' bed ! 
You wouldn't tliink a quiet girl, like sis has got t' be, 
Las' summer-was-a-year-ago played mumble-peg with me, 
An' nearly allers beat me, too, but then, that was, you know, 
'Fore sister put long dresses on, an' went an' caught a beau. 

The knees of sister's stockin's used t' wear out same as mine 
A-playin' marbles. As fer tops, my, she could spin 'era fine ! 
At makin' kites an' flyin' 'em she was immense — an', gee ! 
If one got tangled on a limb the way she'd climb that tree ! 
I wouldn't ask a better chum than sis was to me once, 
But now she mopes an' lolls aroun' an' acts a perfect dunce. 
Gee ! ain't a boy's life orful tame? An' yet it wa'n't so slow 
'Fore sister put long dresses on, an' went an' caught a beau ! 


n THE turkey is a greedy bird," wrote Bessie in her com- 
' position, "The one we had for our Thanksgiving 
dinner had eaten more than two quarts of oysters." 

" It you were a magistrate, how would you deal with 
autoists who exceed the speed limit ?" 
" I would exceed the fine limit." 


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Mrs. Clancy and the "Cinsus 



ENUINE Irish affability made radiant 
the face of Mrs. Pat Clancy when she 
opened the door of her " tinnymint 
on the foorth flure back " in response 
to the knock of the young man who 
had had sufficient political "pull " to be 
appointed one of the census enumer- 
ators. He wore the " pleasant smile " 
photographers beseech their patrons 
to assume, and he obeyed the instruc- 
tions he had received from headquar- 
ters to " be courteous to all." He 
greeted Mrs. Clancy with a gentle — 
"Good-morning, ma'am." 
She spread her hands apart and 
made him a ducking little courtesy 
while saying, 

" Good-marning,' me bye. Will yeez come in .''" 
" No, thank you ; I am one of the census enumerators 
and " 

" An' phwat is a cinsus enoomerator annyhow ?" 

"Well, I have to find out who lives liere — how many 
males, how many females, their ages, occupations, and so 

" Is it so ? Dear, dear ! Did anny wan iver ? An' yeez 
are to put it arl down in a buk ? Luk at thot now ! An' 
phwat good is de cinsus whin yeez get it ? Not thot I 
moind havin' de goodness av givin' yeez a bit av infarma- 
tion, but phwat's de good av it arl, says I ?" 

" Well, it is necessary for the state to know a great 
many things printed in the census report. As I am hur- 
ried for time I would like to ask at once for the name of 
the head of the family here." 

" De hid av de fam'ly, is it ? Sure an' I'm no woman 
sufTrager, an' far be it from Judy Clancy to be wishin' to 
onsex hersilf be goin' to de bally-box wid her vote, but 
whin it comes to bein' de hid av de fam'ly she takes sicond 
place for no wan, not aven Pat Clancy himsilf. Sure an' 
de honors are aquil wlun it comes to bein' de hid av de 
fam'ly in this tinnymint, an' it's not me thot would be put 
under foot by no mon, an' Pat Clancy found thot out 
manny an' manny a long day since. Annyhow, phwat is 
de good av de state botherin' about who is de hid av de 
fam'ly ? Will it mek kerryseen anny chaper, or bring 
down de rint, or give me ould mon a rise in his pay, or do 
anny good at arl at arl ? No, it will not. Thin why be 
takin' de cinsus at arl ? Sure an' if I was de prisidint or 
aven a dhrawer in his cabbynet I would " 

" Would you mind giving me your husband's name in 
full ?" 

"His name in full, is it ? Sure an' it's de same whin 
he's full as whin he ain't, if ye don't moind a bit av a joke. 
I was iver the wan to be crackin' me jokes an' seein' de 

comic side av ev'ryt'ing, an' your riferince to Pat Clancy's 
full name set me up to me ould thricks. It was only this 
marnin' thot Clancy says to me, says he, ' Ye'd be crackin' 
yer joke if ye was on yer deat' bed, Judy Clancy,' an' so 
loike enough I wud. Phwat ? Are there anny childer in 
de fam'ly ? It's sorry I am to say thot there's none. It 
do be heredittary in me fam'ly not to have childer. Me 
own mither was just thot way, an' a great cross it were to 
her. It do be strange how thim thot would rej'ice in 'era 
has no childer, an' thim as don't want anny has 'em by de 
dozen. You tek de Noonans on de sicond flure back. It's 
tin years married they are, an' their tinth a w.-vke ould an' 
named lor me, an' ye should see de silver mug I was afther 
givin' de yang wan wid its name carved on It be.iutiful. 
A dollar an' twinty cints it cost. There's two pairs o' 
twinses, an' Noonan wid only tin dollars a wake to his pay. 
It do come full hard on him to have such a fam'ly, but he 
ain't wan to complain, an' why should he, wid arl of 'em ia 
full health an'" 

" Your husband's name, please. Is it anything beside 
Patrick .'" 

" An' isn't thot enough ? Phwat is de good av layin' a 
name a yard long on wan .' De Noonans wanted to give 
their little kid de names of ' Honory Isabelly ' along wid 
my name, an' I tould thim if they did they nade ixpict 
nothing from me, an' thot inded it. De nonsens av t'ree 
names for a weeny yang wan loike thot ! An' thim wid 
tin to foind names for, an' who knows but aven more, it's 
savin' av names they'd best be. Wan av me ould man's 
brothers had foive first names an' growed up wid de name 
av ' Reddy ' because av de color av his hair. Luk at thot, 
now. Phwat is de sinse av but wan name for wan person ? 
Tell me thot, bye. If I'd the good forchune to have tin 
childer it's but wan name aich would they have for" 

" I have a great deal of ground to cover to-day and 
must work as rapidly as possible in the taking of names. 
Your husband's name is Patrick Clancy ?" 

" It is thot, an' it's a name he's no nade to be ashamed 
av, for — where was he barn ? Where should he be barn 
but in ould Oireland ? He'd not feel he was a real Clancy 
was he barn annywhere else. Is it to go in de buk where 
he was barn ? Luk at thot, now ! An' do ye want his 
photygraft to put in wid it ? Dear, dear ! De Clancys 
are lukin' up whin it comes to havin' their names put in a 
buk. But phwat is it all for .' Phwat is de good av a 
cinsus buk ? How ould is he ? Is thot to go in de buk 
too ? Wan wud t'ink Pat Clancy was nothin' less nor an 
alderman, wid his name an' his age an' where he was barn 
arl bein' put in a buk. He'll be thot set up it's no livin' 
wid him will there be. If ye'll shtep insoide I'll show ye 
his photygraft, an' a good loikeness it is, phwat there is av 
it. It's phwat they call a half-len'th photygraft an' he's 
no legs in it. He'd it taken for a shurprise on me, an' 

wilin he showed it to me I says, says I, ' For hivin's sake, 
Pat Clancy, where is yer legs ?' An' lor a minnit I'd de 
cowkl shivers thinkin' he'd lost his legs in a axidint av 
some koind an' he'd tuk thot way av breakin' de bad news 
to me. Phwat is de sinse av wan havin' no legs in a pho- 
tygraft whin it's blist wid two good legs they are ? It's 
phwat is called a soide view an' o'ny wan eye shows, an' 
he had to pay as much for it as if he'd both legs an' both 
eyes in it, so it's ch'ating himsilf he was whin he made 
thot bargain. There was a mon here but yistiday wantin' 
to inlarge de photygraft to de same soize as Pat an' put 
him in a goold frame, arl for sivin dollars in paymints av 
fifty cints a wake, an' I'd of had it done for a shurprise on 
Pat o'ny de mon wouldn't consint to put his legs an' his 
other eye in de picture, an' I'd not be ch'ated as Pat was. 
It's de iasy-goin' t'ing Pat is, annyhow, an' lucky he is to 
hov a wolfe to luk afther de dollars an' cints, or it's in de 
poor-house we'd be instid av us havin' good money in de 
savin's bank, an' both av us inshoored, so whin we die it 
will be for each other's benefit, and there' 11 be two hun- 
dred dollars to de good for wan iv us whin de other dies. 
Phwat is my name an' me age ? Tut, tut, tut, bye, an' 
where is yer manners to be goin' round ringin' durebells 

an' askin' de leddies how ould is they ? Hivin defind ye 
if ye ask some o' de leddies in this block how ould they 
are ! It will be loike Ann Hoolihan to be passin' herself 
off for twinty-nine whin she's a bye past nineteen, an' de 
best part of her hair is a wig. Phwat is de good of puttin' 
de leddies' ages in a cinsus buk ? How ould did Bridget 
Murphy, in de tinnymint below, say she was ? Ye're not 
allowed to tell ? Tin to wan Bridget herself niver tould, 
for it's a p'int on which she's sinsitive, her bein' a good tin 
years oulder than her husband, an' I — excuse me a minnit, 
but I shmells me bread burnin' in de oven an' it musl 
be looked afther, cinsus or no cinsus. I'll be back in 
a jiffy." 

But when she returned the " cinsus " man was gone, 
having made a note in his book to the effect that he would 
call at a time when he could see Clancy himself, and Mrs. 
Clancy went back to her work, saying, 

" To de divil wid de cinsus ! Phwat is de good av it 
arl ? He'd not got me age from me had he shtood there 
until he was ould as I am. I'll not have me age put in 
anny cinsus buk for anny wan to see an' fling up to me it 
I happens to want to sharten it by a few years now an' 
thin. To de divil wid de cinsus !" 

MRs Hawback — " Our son at town sez in his letter fer me ter send five dollars ter him ier a manicu5'e set. Sez he must look 
after his nails." 

Mrs. Hawback — "Better send it to him. pa. Perhaps he's I'amin' the carpenter trade." 


the Little Fat Stranger 

By Louis J. Stellmann 

T. PETER surveyed the throng of appli- 
cants with a clouded brow. 

"We are granting admission, at pres- 
ent, only to those who present the very 
highest credentials," he said. " The war 
in the orient has overcrowded us with 
heroes. Our supply ot harps has run out 
and the commissary angel has been forced 
to put in an extra requisition for halos. 
So, you see, ladies and gentlemen, we've 
been compelled to raise the immigration 
standards. Yes, we're turning away a 
good many, and over at purgatory they're 
complaining about it — but we can't help 
it. Fall into line, please." 

A couple of railroad presidents, who 
confessed to rebates, and a banker from 
Oberlin were quickly disposed of. A life- 
insurance magnate and a Chicago bigamist followed suit. 
" Where are we going to find accommodations .'" asked 
the latter sullenly. 

St. Peter indicated an asbestos-lined elevator. 
" Going down !" yelled the imp at the lever. 
St. Peter paused to welcome the inventor ol an unlos- 
able collar-button and a woman who had devoted her 
life to plain housekeeping. Then he signaled to the 
elevator imp. 

"Wait a moment," he said. " Here are some more." 

He rapidly weeded out a writer of problem plays, an 

appendicitis specialist and the president ot a woman's club. 

" Gee !" exclaimed a little lat stranger at the rear. 

And he laughed. 

The severity of St. Peter's countenance relaxed into 
milder lines. 

An American society girl who had married for love 
was admitted. An honest politician was passed with a 
handshake. A reformed train-robber who had refused to 
go on the stage or write the story of his life was given a 
special-privilege badge. An author whose novel of the 
old south was not based on a southern girl's love for a 
northern soldier was decorated with the cross ot honor. 

At each of these incidents the little fat stranger laughed 
and made some amusing remark. With his second cach- 
innation St. Peter's already modified sternness became a 
smile, with the third a grin, with the fourth a chuckle, and 
with the fifth his sides shook with a hearty cackle of 

Finally the little fat stranger's turn came. 
"Well, my friend," inquired St. Peter, " what qualifica- 
tions have you got for entrance into joy everlasting ?" 
The little fat stranger shifted his feet uncertainly. 
•' I'm pretty good company," he said, with a bland smile. 
"What did you do while on earth ?" • 
" I was a hardware drummer." 
" Hm ! Did you give any money to charity ?" 
The little fat stranger bubbled with reminiscent mirth. 
"Did I!" he gurgled. " Betcher pinfeathers. That's 
my wife's name." 

St. Peter turned to hide a smile. " Did you rescue the- 
fallen ?" 

" Picked up two fellows once that fell off a hay-wagon." 

" Ha 1 Ha !" said St. Peter in spite of himself. " What 
was the best deed of your life ?" 

" Ten acres in the Texas oil fields," replied the little 
fat stranger. 

"Sir," cried the next man in line impatiently. " This- 
is frivolity. I demand to be heard. In forty years oJ 
metropolitan life 1 never swindled the street-car company 
out of a nickel." 

" And I never asked any one if it was hot enough for 
him,". urged a second. 

" iTiiissed more than twenty trains without swearing," 
exclaimed a third. 

"I'm the only milkman in New York who didn't use- 
Fortnaline !" yelled another. " Give us a chance." 

St. Peter consulted his watch. " It's pretty near clos- 
ing time, " he observed. "I'm alraid I can't let you in — 
unless there's something else " 

The little fat stranger button-holed St. Peter with naive- 

"Say, I've got something funny to tell you," he con- 
fided, gurgling at the memory of it. " Let's go around 
the corner a minute — out of the crowd." 

And, despite the murmur of protest which arose, he 
led St. Peter away. 

For a time the 'anxious applicants heard nothing but 
snatches of laughter from the little fat stranger — blithe, 
whole-souled laughter that was echoed by the deeper 
cachinnations of the old saint. Then the pair returned, 
arm in arm, and passed through the gate together. A 
wail of despair arose from the waiting ones, but St. Peter 
did not hear. Soon after an attendant locked the gate 
and hung out a placard reading, 

" Examinations Closed." 

It was not until they had reached the celestial plaza, tert 
blocks away, that St. Peter suddenly recovered himself. 

" Good gracious !" he exclaimed in self-reproach, " E 
ought to have let in some of those others. There was a 
Chicago woman who had never been divorced." 

He turned to the little fat stranger, who had already- 
persuaded a bystander to give him a halo and was cajol- 
ing another out of his harp. 

" How do you do it ?" he asked wonderingly. 

"I don't know," replied the other. "It was always- 
that way. I sold more goods than any other man in my 
territory. All the men were my friends and the women, 
thought I was great." ..." Much obliged," he said, 
bowing to the angel he had despoiled of a harp. 

"Don't mention it," replied the harpless one. 

St. Peter left in bewilderment. For a long time he 
thought deeply ; then he made his way to the registration 
department. There he caused the name of the little fat 
stranger to be inscribed on the roll — and, after it, in the 
space devoted to "merits in full," he told them to write, 

" He has an infectious laugh." 

( 7 f 

Deacon Fowls — " Happy Thanksgibbin' ter yo'." 

Parson Coops—" Same ter yo". We should all have somethin' ter feel thankful lb'.' 
Deacon Fowls — •■ Yais. I's gwine altah one, too." 

s" like we see 'em now down oi» 

e levee — dey nebber git nowhar 

n time. 

Dey kep' a-foolin' roun' till cle 

watah wuz mos' used up an' dar 

wuzn't nuffin' lef but a leetle 

snaky pool a-runnin' 'long de 

groun', an' when de las' lot seed 

it all gone dey jumps in on all 

fours an' dabble roun' and wet 

(leir ban's an' deir footsies ; an' 

(lat's how mah ban's cum white 

inside, an' dat's all I knows erbout 

it, honey. 

Woke Up. 

IVaggles — " That college pro- 
fessor is more successful since he 
gave up trying to reason out every- 
thing by deduction." 

Juggles — " How does he do it 
now ?" 

Waggles — " Uses a little boss 


lif E suffer much distress on 
•' Account of you. old bore ! 
You teach us all the lesson 

We thought we knew before. 

How the Palms 

Became White. 

/^NCE on a time eberybody wuz 
black — yer gran'daddies, Ab- 
raham an' Moses an' Norah wuz 
black, 'case dey nebber had a 

Gawd say ter Hisse'f, " i's 
a-gwine ter turn 'em inter white 
folks, an' I'll send a pool ob watah, 
so all kin take a bath." Well, de 
libeliest niggers gits dar fust an' 
jumps in an' splashes roun' till dey 
turns white, an' dat's how all yo" 
white folks cum erbout. I hates 
ter say it, honey, but dem fust 
niggers wuz so black an' dirty, 
an' dey muddied up de watah sech 
a terrible lot, dat when de nex' 
Datch ob niggers cum erlong de 
watah was so cullud dat dey all 
on 'em turn inter merlattoes 
when dey jumps in, an' dat's how 
all de merlattoes cum in dis heah 

'Cose eberybody wanted ter 
take a bath, so dey kep' a-jumpin' 
In lickerty split till dey'd all tuk 
deir turn 'cept de laizy, triflin' nig- 
gers, what'^no good fo' nuffin — 


"Golly! ain't he fat?" 

" Yep ; but I bet if he knowed wot wuz a-comin' ter him he'd worrj' himself 
thinner 'n a rail." 

( -( 7 


BELIEVE them pickerel is as big a lie as 
flyin' fish !'' exclaimed 'Squire Brackett, 
from over Hogback. 

" Me, too !" assented Landlord 'Kiar 
Biff, shaking his head solemnly. 

It all began by 'Kiar Biff remarking 
that he had heerd that the pickerel fishin' 
was jest more than prime — the cold 
weather having come, and the big pond 
back in the hills being frozen over — and 
by Solomon Cribber, who had just come 
in from the Pochuck neighborhood, tak- 
ing up the remark with some snap, 
and exclaiming, 

" Pickerel fish- 
in' ! Didn't know 
there w a s a n y 
pickerel any 
more. " 
And thus the evening was 


"What!" and 'Kiar turned 

rather fiercely on Solomon. 

"Why, there hain't never been 

a time knowed sence fish was 

made when pickerel was so 

plenty, and so savage and ram- 

pagein' to git at sumpin' to eat, 

as they be this here very winter, 

right up yender on the pond ! 

And nobody knows it better 

than you do, neither, dodscol ■ 

lop ye I" 

■' You're a leelle savage and 

rampagein' yourself, to-night, 

ain't you, 'Kiar.?" said Mr. Crib- 
ber, but he grinned as if he was 

pleased at the mood he had 

worked the landlord into. 'But 

it don't make no difl^erence. 

You don't know what a real, 

genuine savage and rampagein' 

pickerel is, all the same, 'cause there ain't none 
no more." 

" Do you mean to set there and tell me that I 
diin't know pickerel when I see 'em.'" snapped the 

"But, Kiar, you don't see none," persisted the 
Pdchuck chronicler, now bland and smiling. "Not 
the real, genuine savage and rampagein' ones. I guess 
vou'dsaysoif — there I I went and fergot to ask Cousin 
Marcellus Merriweather when he was down if there 
was any o' them pickerel left, up on the old Passa- 
ilankv. Seems as if I was gittin' fergitfuUer and fer- 
gitfuller every day. No, 'Kiar : you don't see none. 
Nut the real, genuine savage and rampagein' ones, and 



fierce: pickerel of the east -wind 

I guess you'd say so if you'd ever knowed anything about 
the rampagein' and savage east-wind pict;erel of the old 

" East-wind fiddlesticks!" snorted the landlord, and 
'Squire Brackett said " Pish ! Tush !' 

'• What !" exclaimed Mr. Cribber ; " didn't you ever 
hear o' them pickerel ? Them pickerel of the old Passa- 
danky, that nobody didn't dast fish fer when the wind was 
in the east ?" 

" Pooh !" was all the reply that 'Kiar made, and 'Squire 
Brackett said, " Ridic'lous, Solomon ! ridic'lousi" 

'• Well, this is the most amazin'est of all things !" de- 
clared Mr. Cribber ; but there was nothing in the grin on 
his face to denote that he was amazed even slightly. 
' Amazin est of all amazin' things ! Why, I'm glad I come 

had sent me out to hunt up a calf that was lost, their idee 
bein' that it had broke out o' the pen and was some'rs 
around the clearin'. But my idee was that it had gone off 
with a bear, and so I snuck the gun and went out to find it. 

" I come up to the bear by and by, and I knowed from 
the looks of him that the calf was inside of him ; but he 
wasn't satisfied w-ith that and the minute he seen me he 
concluded he'd put me in alongside the calf, and he come 
fer me like a steam injine. But I put somethin' in him 
that didn't set as well on him as I would 'a' sot, and he 
laid down and died. I drug the bear back two miled to 
the clearin' and met my old dad, who had started to look 
fer me, and lie was madder than snakes. When he seen 
me draggin' that dead bear he lit on to me. 

" ' I sent you to hunt up the calf, and here you come 

'' THE HULL rampagein' PACK WAS AT MY HEELS.' 

over, now, 'cause it ain't likely you d ever 'a' heerd o' them 
pickerel if I hadn't, and you'd gone on thinkin that you 
had seen savage and rampagein' pickerel to your dyin' 
day. Whatever it mowt 'a' been in them old Passadanky 
pickerel that made 'em so rampagein' durin' the east wind 
I can't make affidavit to, but everybody up there knowed 
that setch they was, and no mistake. I hain't got time to 
tell you much about 'em, but I kin give you an inklin' as 
to their natur that '11 mebbe be satisfyin' to you that you 
hain't never see none that was the real genuine. 

'• Long before I got big enough to gether in my first 
bear, I'd heerd our folks and others talk about them fierce 
east-wind pickerel — and that hadn't been setch a long 
while, neither, come to think of it, cause I was only jest 
turnin my ninth year when I got that bear. Our folks 

a-luggin home a worthless old bear !' he hollers to me> 
' Where's that calf ?' he hollered. 

" Hold your horses, daddy,' I said. ' Hold your 
horses ! You jest cut this bear open,' I says, ' and you'll 
find the calf,' I says. 

" That made the old feller grin, and he says, 

" ' Thumps !' he says. ' You'll be tacklin' them east- 
wind pickerel next, he says. 

" So you see I hadn't heerd 'em talk about them east- 
wind pickerel so tremendous long before I had killed my 
first bear, after all, 'Kiar, and two or three years after 
that I says to myself, one o' the coldest days there was 
that winter, 

" ' I'm gittin' tired o' hearin' about them rampagein 
east-wind pickerel tha^ nobody don't dast to go and try to 

' *J V 


ketch,' I says, ' and I'm jest goin' to have a hack at 'em. 
This very day, too,' I says, ' providin' they've got the pluck 
to show up ag'in me,' I says. ' I'm goin' to fetch a mess 
o' them pickerel home,' I says, ' or else I'll make a mess 
far them pickerel,' I says. 

" So I rigged up a lot o tip-ups and went to the big 
pond where them pickerel lived. I went out on to the 
pond more than a miled before I cut a hole, 'cause if there 
was goin' to be any muss with them pickerel I wanted 'em 
to have a chance fer themselves. I cut a dozen holes in 
the ice and put in my lines. There wasn't any wind of 
any kind, and I danced and slid around on the pond fer 
two hours or more and not a consarned pickerel, east 
wind, west wind, south wind nor north wind, even showed 
as much as a fin. 

" ' I've got enough o' this," I says. ' I don't want to 
hear no more about these rampagein' east-wind pickerel,' 
I says. 

" I took up my lines and tip-ups and started fer shore. 
I guess I hadn't got more than forty yards or so, when out 
o' the east come the wind, boomin' like a hurricane. 

"'Jest my luck,' says I. 'I can't go back and fool 
with no pickerel now,' I says. 

" But I stopped and looked around. 'Kiar, it would 'a' 
done your heart good to 'a' seen that sight ! It would so. 
Out of every one o" them tip-up holes a pickerel, the big- 
gest I had ever see, had his head popped, and they was all 
lookin' around with glarin' eyes to see what was gom' on. 
They got their eyes on me and out o' them holes they 
come a-pilin', and more behind 'em, and they come fer me 
like a pack o' wolves. Their mouths was wide open, and 
actu'ly frothin'. Their teeth stuck up like bear teeth. 
They was out fer blood, and I knowed it. 

" ' Here !' I says. ' My folks don't know where I be, ■ 
and they'll all be crazy wild if I don't git back. I guess 
I'll put off getherin' a mess o' east-wind pickerel till some 
day when 1 got more time,' I says, and I turned and 
legged it fer shore. 

" I glanced back over my shoulder everj- little while, 
and I could see that pack o' big pickerel was gainin' on 
me like all-possessed. I had half a miled o' pond to git 
over yit, and I calc'lated that if I could reach the shore I 
could laugh at them pickerel, and tell 'em to wait fer me 
till I come up ag'in and I'd show 'em some p'ints worth 
knowin'. But it begun to look as if they'd git their hooks 

on to me before I sot foot on land, fer they was coverin' 
that space betwixt me and them in a way you wouldn't 
scarcely believe. But I dug my toes in the ice and went 
on a-hummin'. I landed on shore, and the pickerel was 
two rods behind me. I run on a little ways and then 
stopped to do my laughin' at the rampagein' pack, but 
when I turned around, 'Kiar, them pickerel was climbin' 
right out after me, and never stoppin' to take breath ! 

" ' Thumps !' says I. ' I'm scrapin' up sort of an en- 
durin' acquaintance with these east-wind pickerel, as it 
looks to me,' I says. 

"But I turned an, struck out to give 'em another 
brush. I hadn't run fur, though, before the hull ram- 
pagein' pack was at my heels. I seen a tree jest ahead o' 
me and I made fer that. I skinned up it and was ketchin' 
holt o' the first branch, ten foot from the ground, as the 
pickerel got to the foot o' the tree. 

" ' I guess I'll stop and do that laughin' now,' I says. 

" I looked down, and was jest in time to see half a 
dozen o' the head pickerel gether themselves and spring. 
They shot up Into the tree as easy as a cattymount could 
'a' done it, and every one of 'em got a grab on to me. 
Down we went, all in a heap, and the hull pack pitched 
on to me. I shet my eyes and waited to be chawed, but 
I didn't feel no chawin'. That su'prised me, and by and 
by I opened my eyes kind o' keerful and took a sly look. 
Every one o' them pickerel, 'Kiar, was layin' there on the 
snow as mild and meek as lambs ! Then I seen what the 
matter was. The east wind had stopped as sudden as it 
had started in, and of course all the ramp igein' went out 
o' them pickerel at the same time, that bein' the amazin' 
natur' o' the beasts. I got a big club and knocked 'em all 
in the head, and cleaned up a two-hoss wagon load of 'em. 
So, 'Kiar, rememberin' them east-wind pickerel of old Pas- 
sadanky, I stick to it that there ain't no pickerel no more, 
not unless there's some o' them east-wind fellers yit — and 
I'm madder than a snake 'cause I fergot to ask Cousin 
Marcellus Merriweather, when he was down, if there was 
any of 'em left. I'm goin' home this minute and write to 
him and ask him about it before I fergit it." 

It was some time after Solomon had gone before any 
one spoke, and then 'Squire Brackett, from over Hogback, 
turned to 'Kiar and said, 

" I believe them pickerel is as big a lie as flyin' fish !" 

" Me, too !" assented 'Kiar, shaking his head solemnly 







He Couldn't Play It. 

jlADEREWSKI JoseflFy Fortissimo L^e 

Was tlic greatest pianist you ever did see ; 

He rendered fantasias, gavottes and cantatas, 
Cadenzas and overtures, fugues and sonatas. 
He could play like the sweep of a rushing cyclone, 
Or as softly and low as the sf)uth wind's faint moan. 
He knew all the works of Beethoven and Liszt. 
Of Wagner and Chopin — not one had he missed. 
He gained honors and laurels wherever he went. 
And he knew he deserved them, so he was content. 

But his pride had a tall, for one summer day 

.A. dear litde girl came to hear this man play ; 

And she said, as he turned politely to greet her. 
" Please, sir, can you play ' Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater '?" 

He was deeply chagrined, and he felt very blue. 

But he meekly replied. '-No, I can't dear ; can you?" 
" Oh, yes," she responded. She flew to the keys. 

With her two fat forefingers she played it with eaise ; 

And she afterward said, " I would rather be rae 

Than Paderewski Joseffy Fortissimo Lee." 

•z*> 3 

o o 
S S 


g o O 

p.— 2 

o ^ ^ 

»-( O I— I 

"^ 2. O 

3 3. M 

2 ^ 






How To Elope Successfully 

By R. N. Duke 

TATISTICS show that there will be 
2,319 elopements in the United 
States in the next year. That is 
the normal expectation, as the in- 
surance men say. Of course the 
figures may vary. Elopements 
are largely due to the girl in the 
case. It's her specialty. I might 
go so far as to say that if there 
were no girls there would be very 
few elopements. When a sweet 
girl whispers to a man, " Let's 
elope," the bystander takes no 
risk when he puts up all he has 
that there will be an elopement in 
that neighborhood at an early 

Last yeaj^'s elopements were 
planned for the most part by men. 
This year we may expect the girl 
to take the initiative. When you want to see blundering 
incompetence on a mammoth scale, something in the way 
of a fizzle that will stand out by itself and be its own shin- 
ing advertisement, let a man get in his fine masculine work 
on an elopement. 

When a girl plans an elopement success is written all 
over it trom the moment the ladder is placed at the win- 
dow of the lean-to to the happy moment when pa gathers 
the whole joint outfit into his arms and says '• Bless you, 
jny children." 

Take a case m point. Last August, Eddie Rowerly, of 
Persimmon Flats, concluded to elope. He took the affair 
in hand, planned it from " a" to izzard, arranged all the de- 
tails. In all respects it was Ed's elopement. Kathryn 
Hagerty was scarcely more than a lay figure in the adven- 
ture, a delightful accessory, as it were, but that was all. 
The night arrived, a half-moon stood off over Penny's 
brick-yaril, and white bunches of cloud sailed in dreamy 
luxuriance through the silvered magnificence of the heavens 
above the Hagerty poultry farm. Dim stars shone fitfully 
in the deep dome beyond the clouds, and ever and anon 
the Hagerty rooster declared that it was day, when, as a 
matter of fact, it wasn't twelve o'clock yet. Suddenly on 
the dark side of the Hagerty home a tall ladder lifted itself 
stealthily toward a second-story window. By fixing our 
gaze attentively upon the foot of the ladder we shall see 
that it is being operated by brave Eddie Rowerly, who 
stands in the middle of a rose-bush under the window, 
slowly filling his system with the early rose thorn. 

If we glance up now we shall see the window slide up 
noiselessly. Kathryn is excessively on the qui vive. Eddie 
joyously mounts the ladder. His heart swells with pride. 
His plans are working out ! 

Then Ed went swiftly through the window, leaving a 
portion of his raiment on the shutter fastening as a 

souvenir. The room was dark. He heard a whispered 
" Here I am !" 

" Ah ! love, come to my arms," he whispered in reply. 
" I am going to carry you down the ladder. Put your 
arms round me. Now cling tight. Easy now. There, 
you can't squeeze me too close, sweetheart. I love to be 
squeezed. I went through a cider-press once." 

Edward Rowerly was slowly descending the ladder 
with his precious burden. Kathryn was done up in a 
shawl and veiled until she was like a bolt of tailor's cloth 
with arms. But the Rowerly heart felt the antiphonal 
thrill of the Hagerty heart inside of the bundle and he 
was happy. 

" Now, darling, let us be quick," he said, as he safely 
landed at the foot of the ladder. Then he tore aside the 
veil and implanted a passionate kiss upon — the two weeks' 
growth of beard on the face of little old man Hagerty; 
Kathryn's pa. 

Edward Rowerly's elopement stopped right there. It 
didn't go another inch. Jim Hagerty took a small work 
by Smith & Wesson out of his blouse and lovingly rubbed 
it over Eddie's cheek and poked it against his vest pocket, 
and joked with Ed, and asked him to take his ladder and 
go out of the yard, and be careful not to tread down the 
turnips out by the well, and please to shut the gate 
after him. 

Now, that vi'as a man's elopement. A man had worked 
it from the ground up and down again and clear into 
the sod. Let us see how a woman does it. 

Along in October Miss Josephine Sylvester Moler, of 
Kokomo, got up a little private elopement for herself and 
a young man friend by the name of Billings. 

" Now, Billings," she said, in her winsome way, " I'll 
run this elopement. All I want of you is to be within call 
when needed. You are a part of the elopement, you un- 
derstand, but in no sense the head of it. I want you to 
feel just as happy as if you were runnmg it, only I want 
you to distinctly understand that you ain't. Now, I be- 
lieve we are ready to proceed." 

This is not all Josephine said, but I have given enoijgh 
to show how matters were shaping themselves on the 
threshold of the married life of these two young, trusting 
souls. We shall see now how the affair panned out. 

Erasius Billings lay dreaming upon his couch at the 
witching hour of two a. m. on a drizzly morning. He had 
been warned to be ready to elope at that hour, but it had 
slipped his mind. Fair Josephine saw that she was likely 
to be foiled, and instantly she decided upon a heroic 
measure to win out in the way she had determined. 
Erastus did not know that the chute of one of his father's 
coal-wagons was being hoisted to his window. He was 
all unaware that a vigorous, energetic, masterful young 
woman by the name of Moler was even now lifting the 
inside fastening of his window shutters with a putty-knife. 
How could he know that lithe Josephine had clomb up 


the grape arbor and was now cutting a small circle of 
glass from his window-pane with a glazier's wheel ? He 
did not see a resolute arm, sleeved in some soft, warm 
goods, deftly reach through the hale and turn the catch at 
the top of the sash. All unwilling was he when the win- 
dow was raised and a tall, muscular young female strode 
lightly across the room. Still he slept when she gazed 
upon him in the half darkness and said to herself, " Ah, 
dear Billings crawled in last night with his boots on, so I 
am spared any delay on that account, thank heavens !" 

Alas ! Billings did not awake until he dreamed that he 
was sliding down the side of a wheat elevator. But he 
awoke then. To his surprise he found that he was in the 
onion bed in the rear lot. Josie had delivered hmi down 
the coal chute. Hastening down the grape arbor hand 
over hand, she picked him up lightly and ran out of the 

" We have eloped, Billings," exclaimed Josephine joy- 
ously, as she sped down the road toward the parsonage. 
" Soon you will be mine." 

An hour later they were made one, and Josephine was it. 
When you wish to elope let the girl attend to it. It's in 
her line. 

Money is not necessary to happy nuptials, but it is ab- 
solutely necessary to a happy elopement. 

Beware of the dog. A healthy dog chasing an elope- 
ment over the back fence by the light of the moon is a foe 
to the marriage tie. 

Marriage ties, by the way, without money, are apt to 
be a case of cross ties befdre the honeymoon tour is ended. 

Some elopements are very happy and enduring ; but 
you'd be surprised how quick some people elope and then 
lope back again after they see how it is. 

The eloping habit should be avoided in times like 
these. Algernon Baxter sits in a cell iw Punxatawney at 
this moment bitterly bewailing the day the eloping habit 
first got into his system. He has been paying alimony to 
two ladies of his acquaintance, and now a third has come 
upon the scene and asked for alimony. Baxter says they 
already have " all 'e money " he has. 

Poor Algernon ! He eloped three times when once 
would have been ample. 


Ada — " Do you get much exercise .'" 
May — " Why, yes. I have no maid, and I have a waist 
that buttons in the back." 

The Weather-man. 

W'EN de weathah-flag of " warmah " flies, 
You bettali git yo' coat ; 
An' w'en yo' tee de flag fer "col'," 
You needn't take no note. 

W'en de weathali-man ain't weathah-wisc 

He's othahwise, I guess ; 
By sciyunce he serves de weathah up, 

An' de Lawd— he does de res'. 


Bill Throttle, he was a civil engineer. 



Ethel—" 'Sh ! That 's papa's footstep." 

A Rehabilitated Healer. 

TIME was when the barber was not 
a mere manipulator of the brush 
and razor, but a chirurgeon, and the 
time has almost come again. History 
is repeating itself on a higher plane. 

Men who are in the know regard an 
up-to-date barber as a friend in need, 
and look upon his studio as a shelter 
in a time of storm. When a good fel- 
low has been celebrating a birthday or 
a high rite of the mystic shrine, it is 
"not to the family physician he tells his 
sorrows, but to George, the barber. 
When it comes to knitting up the 
raveled sleave of care and £.-noothino- 
down a frayed nervous system, the ex- 
pert barber has the whole college of 
physicians and surgeons cuticled from 
the start. 

One morning an actor, who was 
" resting " and had sat up most of the 
previous night with a sick friend, 
bulged through the door of a Broad- 
way barber-shop and, catching the 
appropriate pose, rumbled at the 
chief expert, 

" Canst thou not minister to a mind dis- 

Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, 

Raze out the written troubles of the 

" Sure, 1 can," said George without 
batting an eyelid at this Macbeth gag. 
" What you need is to have your face 
manicured, your brain massaged and your sub-conscious- 
ness shampooed. We will begin with a hot towel on the 
back of your neck, and when I have pushed in your whis- 
kers ni put you through the course, and have you wind 
up by inhaling a lavender cocktail." 

Twenty minutes later that young man was feeling like 
a man and a brother, and as he paid the fee he listened to 
the good advice regarding the liquid part of his diet with 
the deference due to an authority. There is no question 
about it— the barber is more than coming to his own. He 
is not a mere chirurgeon, but an alienist. 

George — -Quick, darling! One more.' 

Is he coming this way ? 

She Blushed. 

Che took the pledge. Oh. do not think 
"^ The ruddy hue of her complexion 

Was caused by anything to drink — 

She took the pledge of his aflTection. 

W. D. NESBrr. 

'S Truth. 

n I IFE," observes the sage, " is 
'■^ what we make it." Having 
rolled this thought around in his 
head for a few moments, he nods 
wisely and supplements it with, 
" And so is our autobiography." 

His Definitions. 

THERE was a small boy went to 
• Sunday-school. When he went 
home his mother asked him what 
the lesson was about. " Faith," says 
the boy. " What's that ?" his mother 
asked. " Believin' what you've got 
every reason to suppose ain't so," 
the boy replies. " And then," he 
afterward remarks, "there was 
some talk about duty, too." " What's 
duty?" his mother asked him." "Oh, 
duty," he replied, " is any old thing 
that you have got to do when you 
want to play baseball." 

George — "Raw 
bah Jove ! Good-bye 

*• This Serum Business. 

ther too rum faw a joke, ,.r>TMrr>x' • i i 

fawevah '" IIODERa science is real marvel- 

• " ous. For instance, this serum 

business is fine for doctors. I know one. He doctored 

Cyrus Peck and all his folks. Cy is a mighty good 

old chap. He come down with lockjaw. Doc he drew 

some serum from his wife's uncommon busy jaws and 

pumped it into him. It loosened of him up right 

quick, but, 'fore it did, Doc tapped his cheek and got 

enough of lockjaw juice to fix up Mrs. Cy with a slight 

attack that will last her all her life. That family is happy, 

now, for the first time since Mrs. Cy first got her breath 

after the excitement of the weddin' ceremony, forty 

year ago. 

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Second avenue." 

■ Now you gimme back my orange ! I only sa d you could s jck it as tar us 


What are we thankful for ? That is a question 
That sometimes puzzles e'en a dinner guest : 

The rich are thankful for a good digestion, 
The poor if they have something to digest. 


" Confound the infemal> 
luck !" the able editor of 
the Pretyville Plaindealer 
was snorting, as a friend 
entered the office. " Gosh- 
hang the blankity-blanked 
demon that stole, borrow- 
ed, or made 'way with our 
electrotype of the late- 
Pydia E. Linkham !" 

" Aw, what's the differ- 
ence ?" questioned the vis- 
itor. "That worthy lady 
has been dead several. 
years, and " 

" The difference !" howl- 
ed the angry scribe. 
" What in tophet and so- 
and-so are we going lo- 
use for a portrait of the 
dowager empress of 
China ?" 


Boivker — " They are 
evidently keeping pace 
with the spirit of the times- 
over in Paris just no%v ?" 
Jowker — " Why do you think so ?" 
Bowker — " Why, because they have just intro- 
duced a horseless sausage over there." 


Mrs. Cobu'igger — " It 
would be a great saving if 
Christmas came in Janu- 

Cobwigger — " How do 
you figure that out .'" 

Mrs. Cobwigger — " One 
can buy things so much 
cheaper in the stores after 
the holidays." 


" What makes you cry 
so bitterly, little boy ?" 
:isked the kind gentleman. 

"De t'ree Sunday- 
schools I j'ined is goin' ter 
have der Christmas treats 
all on de same night," 
wailed the little boy. 
•' Boo-hoo !" 

Colic — A malady to which diplomatic youngsters 
are addicted about school-time. 

C.AD — An author who 
thinks that the favor of a 
hn-de-siecle publishing 
house constitutes him a 
leader of the age. 

Turtle — "It's queer how unpopular that porcupine is." 
Crane — "Yes ; because he really has a great many good points." 






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■ V 

The Post-office Investigation 

By Robert N. Duke 

VERY student of 'the postal sys- 
tem of this country must feel 
grateful that the whole subject 
has been so thoroughly gone 
over recently and some of the 
worst evils exposed. The trou- 
ble with the national post-office 
seems to be that it will take 
care of the baser matters in- 
trusted to it, but when it comes 
to the finer matters, where a 
single blunder may spoil every- 
thing, it is so apt to go wrong. 
For example, it will convey a 
bill or a dun with almost per- 
fect fidelity, but if it's a love- 
letter with a kiss inclosed the 
-^■r^ '-"^"^'-' entire machiner>' of the*^ mail 

service seems to be devoted to side-tracking that kiss and 
delivering it where it will do the most harm. A postal 
system that will strike twelve when it has a letter from 
the tailor and then fail miserably when a violet-scented 
osculation is inclosed can never be entirely satisfactory to 
a free people. Take this, for instance : 

" My dearest love — It hurts, dear, to know we cannot 
have Thanksgiving dinner together. Dearest, I cannot 
tell you how I missed you last night. It was so lonesome. 
But I must stop that right now. 

" We had such a good time in spite of my impatience. 
I hope you got home safely and will have a good Thanks- 
giving dinner. 

"Clinton, I love you, dear, and hope we can see each 
other soon. Love and kisses. BESSIE." 

Is there anything wrong in a letter of that kind ? Isn't 
that just the kind of a letter you have written yourself 
and may some time want to write again ? I am prepared 
to assert that that letter is consistent, o. k., and tills a 
long-felt want. You say the kisses might have been 
omitted, but could they ? Could a letter beginning " My 
dearest love " end without more or less business of that 
kind ? It does nol seem to me a normal inference from 
the facts of life as we know them. 

Be that as it may, what happened to the above letter ? 
How did the postal system of this broad land treat that 
privileged communication ? Everybody who read the 
papers a few weeks ago knows full well what this great 
branch of the public service did with that sweet billy-doo. 
It delivered it to Clinton's wife — that's what it did. And 
what did Clinton's wife do ? It ought to make this gov- 
ernment sick to read w-hat the woman did. She got right 
up in her wrath and made Rome howl. She said what a 
woman never says until she feels that the time has come 
to say it. According to the papers, which told of the di- 
vorce suit, I should think Clinton would never again be 
won back to the confidence he once had in the postal 
system. It was an awful throw-down. 

Look :at another case. A woman sued for breach of 
promise, and when she faced her whilom lover she 
brought into court a shoe-box full of letters. Every one 
of those letters ended with " love and ardent kisses." The 
poor chap was amazed to find that word " ardent " so 
often. Of course he would not have used it every time if 
the letters had been composed one right after the other. 
But the point is that the inadequacy of the postal regula- 
tions compelled him to put these kisses in in that way, 
and as he felt about the same way each time he forwarded 
a new consignment, he used the same shipping formula 
in each case. And they did him up. He had to step up 
to the cashier's window and settle for those " ardents " 
Just the same as if they were so many bales of hay. 

Ingenious folks have sought to get round this weak 
spot in our post-office administration. One alleged rec- 
reant lover was haled into court and the lovely complain- 
ant emptied a coffee-sack full of letters out on the floor of 
justice, but when the jurj' came to look them over they 
found that every letter ended up this way : " Yours, Jack 
103." The girl explained that 103 had been agreed upon 
as a good-night code and meant, " Now, darling, I must 
close for this time as I have nothing more to say, but I 
hand you herewith the usual three million kisses." She 
testified that by this arrangement the kisses always 
reached her in good shape and were entirely satisfactory- 
delivered in this manner, but the jury sided with the post- 
office authorities and wouldn't see anything in that 103. 
but just its face value, as it were. 

From a careful study of divorce-court proceedings and 
the common or commercial love-letter, as you might call 
it, I have come to the conclusion that there is a crying- 
need in this matter. A kiss can be delivered when the 
parties are near at hand without trouble or loss in transit, 
but the crux of the problem is how to deliver the long- 
distance oscule. Naturally people want to exchange this 
commodity just as much when separated as when to- 
gether, but how are they going to do it, in the present 
imperfect stage of the mail system, so that everything Willi 
be satisfactory to all parties concerned afterward ? 

The postmaster at Job Hill lately discovered that every 
other day a post-card went through his office with a curi- 
ous arrangement of little circles all over it. Some ot the 
circles were very large, say about the size of cart-wheels, 
while others were small. He became worried and suspi- 
cious. .First he thought it was an anarchist plot. Therv 
he began to wonder if it wasn't some kind of a decoy 
scheme to trap him. But when he found that the card 
was taken from the box every time by a beautiful young" 
woman he smiled, and for the first day in weeks ate a 
hearty meal and took a nap in the back office that after- 

Those circles were kisses. The big circles were the 
large-size, earnest kind. The little circles were just the 
little touch-and-go kind, and the in-between circles were 
variations on the same theme. I venture to say that if it 

-' f 

■came lo a show-down in court those circles would be true 
to the young man, and yet they answered their purpose 
admirably at the time. 

There is a suggestion here that it would be well for 
all to take to heart, and yet all • must acknowledge that it 
is by no means a solution. You are writing to your girl 
or your fellow, as the case may be, and when it comes to 
the wind-up you say, 

" And now as the hour is growing late I must close. 
I send you a good-night. OOOOOOOO. 


It's safe, but is it satisfactory ? Does it rise to the 
occasion ? Do you read it over and congratulate yourself 
that you have done the subject justice ? It does not seem 
to me that we can truthfully say so. 

Suppose you do it in this way : " As I can't think of 
anything more to say to-night I will close for this time. 
How I wish I was with you. The seven hundred miles 
that lie between us is all that keeps me from you. If it 
were not for that we would be together, and, oh, how 
happy we would be ! Well, good-night. 

" Your friend, 

" GUSSIE, 103." 

Does that seem adequate ? Isn't there a disappoint- 
ing, almost a chilly, abruptness about it ? You know 
what that 103 means, but can you feel sure that it is true 
to its mission ? You see, there is always the harrowing 
:suspicion that it may have slipped a cog or something 
.and reverted to its usual sense. If this style came into 

vogue letters like this would be choking the post-office 
soon : 

" Dear Jack — I got your letter with the regular weekly 
103, but, oh. Jack, are you sure you mean the same you 
have meant heretofore, or is that last 103 just 103 and 
nothing more ? Jack, I am dying with a broken heart 
over this matter. If I thought you meant just 103 and 
nothing more. Jack, I believe I could murder you. Do 
write at once and tell me the truth, or I shall go mad. 
As ever, 

"Gertie, 1234. 

" (Jack, I mean 1234, too.) " 

I trust I have made it plain now that the postal officials 
ought to do something. The public has a right to ex- 
pect satisfaction in this matter. There are more things 
than grocer's bills and duns from the people who are put- 
ting music-boxes in your homes on the installment plan in 
this life. We want a mail system that will not play into 
the hands of the referee in chancery every time a' warmish 
statement passes through the slot and flies forth on its 

Another great forward step would be taken if the gov- 
ernment would fix it so that when an author sends out 
his manuscript it wouldn't come back so all-fired quick, 
but that's another story. If it could be arranged so that 
the same promptness would be observed, but that instead 
of the author's piece a large cheque would come back, that 
would make our post-office, it seems to me, almost an 
ideal system. 


Stage-hand (of " Faust " company) — " Say, Bill, dis is de most appreciative aujince we've struck. Dey be- 
tieves in givin' de devil his due." 

--? ■■ * 

4/ /r?-'/^' ^ 








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W o 

z z 

o <; 


The Christian Scientist. 

UE had a madly jumping toolh ; 
* ' His pain was grievous, very. 
He only smiled and said " Forsooth, 
It's all imaginary." 

He lost a leg, he lost an arm ; 

But still the wight was merry. 
And faintly smiled, " Feel no alarm— 

Ifs all imaginary." 

He died ; and when old Charon came 

To row him o'er the ferry. 
His words and smile were still the same — 
" Ifs all imaginary." 


They Were All Right. 

UE was a typical backwoods farmer. 
His first visit to a city restaurant, 
however, had taken away none of the ap- 
petite he had at home, where everything 
was placed in large dishes on the centre 
of the table and each one helped himself. 
The waiter had piled the food around 
the plate in the customary little dishes, 
which the farmer cleaned up in turn. 
Settling back in his chair, he hailed the 
passing waiter. 

" Hey, there, young man ! your sam- 
ples are all right. Bring on the rest of 
the stuff." 


ITS strange you don't pl.ay golf. All the 
high-toned set do. Maybe they think 
it's funny to knock a homoeopathic pUl 
with a retrouss6-nosed stick over half a 
township. But I don't. 


Algernon — " It's quiie a come-down for him." 
Sydney — "What do you mean?" 

.Vlgernon — " Wh-en he is at home he belongs to the upper ten, but at col- 
lege lie is on the second eleven^" 


" Our fhrnn has: acquire* the Bbnanza gold-mine." 
"Why,, tkat mine was worked out long, agio." 
" No ; not yet. Two thousand ' suckers have an- 
swered our »<}«." 

The Force of Habft. 

««THEY say tliat Versus's wife married him while he was still a 
struggling poet, on the ground that so thoughtful a man 
must make a good husband." 

" Hoiv (lid she get that idea about "hTm .'" 

" When he wrote to her, offering his hand, he mechanically in- 
closed a stamped atrd addressed envelope." 

Af the Zoo. 

Bobby — '• Say, mister, is this a cross-eyed bear ?" 
Keeper — " Nope, sonny ; who ever heard of a cross-eyed bear .?" 
Bebby (superiorly)—" I have ; they sang, yesterday, at Sunday- 
school about a consecrated cross I'd bear !" 

Coutdn't Miss It. 

<« CAY, old fellow! I'm in a big rush with this. Won't ) ou 
take the giri's place at the typewriter while she goes 
to lunch ? ' 

" But I don't know this key-board." 

" Oh, that'll be all right. This is an Illinois-Frencii-Canadian 
dialect poem I'm working on." 


Mr. Kittlcby's Chickens 

By W. D. Ncsbit 

HAT Josiah Kittleby should have gone into the 
pastime of raising chickens was no wonder. 
That he should have found it no pastime was 
no wonder. That he should have stuck to 
it obstinately, clung to it persistently, fussed 
and fretted over the chickens continually, 
was no wonder. There never was any won- 
der about anything Josiah Kittleby did. 

Mr. Kittleby's man-of-all-work, Erastus 
Johnson, a " cullud gemman " of the old 
school as to courtesy and chickens, had 
taken a great and abiding interest in the 
chicken-raising exploit of his employer. He 
had seen the flock of poultry dwindle from 
fifty fat pullets and two lazy roosters to fif- 
teen plump hens. He had seen Mr. Kittle- 
by's interest in the flock dwindle from a sun- 
rise visit, a noonday inspection and a twi- 
light farewell to a once-a-week look. 

" Mistah Kittleby," Erastus announced 
one morning, " them thah chickens er yo's sho'ly is a run- 
nin' dey haicls oflf pesticatm' 'roun' dis yah neighbo'hood. 
Dey done sp'iled all de flowehs in yo' yahd, en now dey 
rampagin" up en down all de yutheh yahds wuss'n er tribe 
erelephunts bruk outen er suhkus." 

•'Well, 'Ras," answered Mr. Kittleby, "I'm tired of 
those chickens. Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm 
going to dispose of the whole bunch to-morrow. Before I 
go into town I'll leave a note for you telling you what to 
do with •.hem." 

Erastus had reminded Mr. Kittleby that the iMohawk 
avenue Baptist church would have a grand supper and 
concert the next night, and that anything he chose to give 
to help the good cause along would be duly appreciated, 
but the discussion of the chickens seemed to have dis- 
missed the church supper from Mr. Kittleby's mind. 
When that gentleman said that he would dispose of the 
chickens he sent an idea into the head of Erastus which 
impressed him, as he acknowledged, "as fo'cibly as ef er 
wasp bed done socked 'is stinger inter mah haid." It was 
late in the afternoon of the next day when Erastus nar- 
rated the following tale of adventure : 

" Well, suh, w'en Mistah Kittleby done lol' me as how 
as he 'uz gwine ter 'spose er dem chickens, hit niek me 
meditate er heap, I kin tell yo'. De mo" I thinks er- 
bout hit, de mo' I gits hit in mah haid dat de 'casion 
call foh expeditiousin' wuk. En so I goes 'roun' pas' 
Deacon Jones's house en gits him ter call ol' Brotheh 
Bindo ovah ter his gate, en den I lays de outcomin' er 
mah meditations befo" de bofe er em. Afteh some saga- 
ciousin" 'round' we 'cides on er plan, en den we seperates 
en I comes back ter de bahn en finishes up mah wuk. 
At night hit was pow'ful dahk, bein' as dey ain' no moon 
en de 'lectable lights dey git de wires cross ev'y which 
way somehow ernurrer, en so hit hahd ter tell ef Deacon 

Jones en Brotheh Bindo is white pussons or cullud gem- 
men w'en dey slips inter de bahn. We t'ree sits dah irs 
de dahk ontwell pas' midnight, twell de white folks up at 
de house is all gone ter baid en ter sleep, en den we 
p'oceeds ter 'laborate mah plans. Deacon Jones he pos'es- 
hissef ovah by de wes' eend er de chicken-coop, en Brotheh 
Bindo he tek keer er de eas' side whah de winder is, en I 
goes inside ter 'lieve Mistah Kittleby er dem chickens. 
Hit's mah 'tentions ter lif dem one at er *ime fum de roos' 
en han' dem out ter Deacon Jones en Brotheh Bindo. De 
roos'es runs up en down on each side, en so I kin han" de- 
chickens fum side ter side ez .1 tek dem fum de roos.' 
Well, evvything goes erlong all right twell I gits all but 
five er dem hens handed out, en den what does 1 do but 
fall right swop ovah er big box er chicken feed. In co'se 
dat stahtles de five chickens what I isn't got, en in co'se 
hit skeer de life auten Deacon Jones and Brotheh Bindo,. 
ca'se dey think hit somebody inside de coop what done 
grab holt er me. Dem five chickens des begin er squawkin" 
en er scuttlin' en flies outen de winders en de do' en 
bump inter de faces er Jones en Bindo, en dem fool nig- 
gahs draps de bags what dey has all de res' er de chick- 
ens inside er 'em, en den dey sho'ly is er mons'us racket 
goin' on, what wid me foutin' wid de feed-box en de 
roos'in' poles what come down en whack me on de haid. 
en tangle in mah laigs en th'ow me mo' times den I km 
git up. 

" or Deacon Jones he lets out one whoop dat yo' kin 
heah clar ercross de crick, en stahts ter runnin' en lams. 
hissef up ergin'de fence so hahd dat he onj'ints he stom- 
ach en cain't eat nothin' foh nigh outer er week. Den he 
tek one mo' staht en des nach'ly to'e out er whole pandle 
er de fence en goes yippity-yip down th'oo town des de 
same as if de constabble is afteh him wid er gun en er 
pack er bloodhoun's. Ol' man Bindo he's got er lame 
laig en cain't run ve'y well, but he stahts de yutheh wa)'" 
en hit bein' dahk he cain't see whah he goin' en he ram 
hissef inter de side er de bahn en yell dat some one hit 
him wid er san'bag, en den pick hissef up en fall ovah de 
fence inter de alley en git hissef headed straight afteh 
lamin' his yuther laig on de fence on de yutheh side er de 
alley, an den he go down dat alley so fas' he leave er holler 
place in de aih behin' 'im. Dey say dem two men doan' 
wait ter open no gates ner do's when dey gits home. 
Deacon Jones bus' 'is own gate plum off er de hinges en 
nigh onter to'e de do' down erfo' his wife git up en onlock 
hit. En den he won' sleep nowhahs but undah de baid de 
res' er de nigiit, en tell 'is wile dat er passel er whitecap- 
pers is got me en tuk en tek me way ovah ter de nex 
county ter hang me afteh dey sicks er whole pack er 
bloodhoun's on me ter chew me up. Ol' Bindo he goes, 
inter his house th'oo de winder — th'oo de glass en all — en 
hide hissef in de lof 'en pray en sing twell daylight. En- 
all dis time I's thrashin' eroun' in dat fool chicken-coop. 
In co'se de white folks heahs me en puhty soon Mistatt 

Kittlebv comes er runnin' out wid he gun ter see what am 
(le matteh. En he bring er lante'n finally en dig me out 
fum undeh all de ness'es en rooses' en dat blame-fool feed- 
box what staht de whole rumpus. He ax me what in de 
debbil am de matteh, en soon 's I kin think up somethin' 
I tell him dat I hear some one er tryin' ter rob de hen- 
coop en 1 come out ter p'tect hit, en fo 'er five big men 
grab me en th'ow me inside en pile de whole business in on 
top er me. Den Mistah Kittleby des laff en say hit doan' 
matteh, he doan' keer er dam' erbout de chickens nohow, 
en foh me ter go on en wash mahsef en go ter baid. 

" Nex mawnin' dey is er note foh me, des lak he say 

dey gwine ter be. He done put hit in de tool-box in de 
bahn de ebenin' erfo', en dat hoccum I got hit. Wiiat yo 
think dat note say ? Hit read : • Mistah Erastusjohnsing, 
deah suh : Insomuch as I am erbout ter get rid er ma 
chickens I wishes ter tell yo' dat it is mah desiah ter 
donate dem ter de suppah ter be given ter de Mohawk 
avenue Baptis' ch'ch, consuhnin' which yo' has already 
spoke ter me' — des erbout dem ve'y wohds. En, dog mah 
cats 1 dat ain' bad ernuff, but de wusses' paht er de whole 
thing is dat dem fool chickens, once dey git stahted, dey 
doan' stop runnin' erway, en dey ain' nary fedder er any 
er em been seen 'roun dis town sence dat night." 

How Shall We Solve 

the Divorce Problem? 

IN wilds of Texas dwelt Sam Pugli, 

' A lonely bachelor was he. 

He had to cook his own lieef stugh 

And other things like that, you se ; 
And if he had a racking cough 

No tender hand to nurse was there. 
So one day Samuel started ough 

Resolved U> find a maiden fere. 
A near-by town — 'twas somewhat tough — 

Revealed a damsel, trim and neat. 
Said happy Samuel, ■■ You're the stough ! 

Shall we before the parson meat?" 

She shyly blushed, and said, '• Although 

I scarcely know you, still I see 
That you're o. k. , and I will gough 

Along with you and married bee." 
Sam grinned with joy. It thrilled him through. 

So they were wed and Sam was glad 
And gently whispered, " I love yough !" 

It was a magic ride they had 
Across the prairie, which the plough 

Had never touched. Then, when at home 
Sam gayly said, "Now I'll allough 

That £rom this ranch we'll never rome." 

And now there is a son and heir 

Who plays before the ranchman's door. 
You'd love to see that happy pheir, 

Sam 's never lonely any moor. 
Their joy it would be hard to gauge, 

It's firee from quarrels and deceit. 
Sam never gets into a range 

And Mary's temper 's just as sweit. 
A man more true and free from guile 

Or of a more contented mien ; 
A woman with a happier smuile 

I'll bet a cent you've never sien. 

And if all folk were like these two 

With lives in harmony so keyed 
The lawyers would have less to dwo. 

Divorce courts we should never neyed 
fo undo marriages, because 

The hearthstones where true love holds reign 
Are ruled without the aid of lause — 

In happiness instead of peign. 
So from these two a lesson learn — 

A lesson big and wise and true. 
Oh, do not from its moral team ! 

It will help all, Ijiitli me and yue. 

The Ruling Passion. 

THE little crowd of wraiths huddled together in Charon's boat. One among 
them held himself aloof and spread himself over two of the seats. 
Charon went through the crowd, collecting the fares. When he ap- 
proached the aloof person that individual looked up haughtily. 

" Fare ? " he echoed ; " fare ? Why, I always travel on a pass." 
Then the other tourists recognized him as one who had been a trust 


n I KNOW I'm losing my hair early in life," says the young man, pass- 
ing his hand over his bare scalp ; " but my father and grandfather 
became bald at twenty." 

" Ah," comments the pickle-nosed individual who is always thinking 
up such things, " then you are the heir to their hairlessness." 

I /;J 1^ 


The boy above — -'Is dere any game round here?" 
The other — '■ Dere wuz. but I got it all." 


My Little Boy-beau. 

IT IS hidden away with the keepsakes 
' Of summers and winters ago — 
A love-letter yellow and faded 

And creased, from my little boy-beau. 
The envelope reads, "To my dearest," 

The pages are tattered and torn, 
The childish handwriting is blotted, 

But it breathes of life's roseate morn. 

The little boy-beau is sleeping 

Where his regiment laid him to rest. 
In a uniform buttoned and braided. 

With a flag and a sword on his breast. 
But it is not the dashing young soldier 

In sabre and sasli that I see. 
But the little boy-beau with his ringlets — 

He will never grow older to me. 

Since, a girl of eleven, I found it 

Slipped into my grammar one day 
The years with their rains and their roses 

Have rapidly glided away. 
Lovers and hearts they have brought me. 

Tears and my portion of woe ; 
But never so pure an affection 

As the love of m>- little boy-beau. 


;« CHUCKS!" said Mr. Meddergrass. 
" 1 believe these here patent-medi- 
cine fellers is all in cahoots." 

•' What makes you say that ?" asked 
ihe druggist. 

" Well, I've got five different almanacs 
so lar this year, an' every blame one of 'em 
is alike e.\cept fer the name of the medi- 


How She Worked It. 

(( RUT were the boarders not 
suspicious sometimes ? Did 
they not seem to act as if they 
doubted that the veal-stew was 
turkey ?" asked the news-gieaner. 
" Ah, but I took precautions," 
replied the retired boarding-house 
keeper. " I always stirred in a 
few feathers." 

What It Feasted Cn. 

T/te crank — " This turkey has 
a very salty taste." 

The star boarder — " Of course 
it has. The bird was raised on 
the seacoast. If Mrs. Mealerham 
will give you some of the dressing 
you will see that the turkey had 
feasted on oysters." 

Miss Phcebe — •• Mr. Johnson, de genelman I's settin' mah cap fo', spends two doUahs 
a week fo' cafriage-hire. Now, don't dat show appearances ob prosperity ?" 

_ Parent — "Appearances am deceitful, gal. De prosperity lies in Stable-keeper Jack- 
son's pocket. He am de man )o wants ter set yo'r cap fo'." 

IVitlte LittUboy (who has an 
inquiring mind) — "Papa, 'colonel' 
is a title, isn't it, that belongs 

Papa — " No, my son ; it is an 
opprobrious epithet." 


Happy High Hunks. 

VOU bet I'm feeling pretty good. 
' And any tunes my jig meet ; 
For now the back yard 's full of wood, 
The cellar 's full of pig-meat. 

And when I know that down my tliroat 
I can this fine old food pile, 

I'm happy as yon cat afloat 

And tacking down yon wood-pile. 

That's why my chest I gayly thump 

And all my face enamel 
With happy grins while I outhump 

With joy the circus camel. 

Why She Jumped. 

THE cow had just jumped over the moon. " I 
wanted to get out of the range of that deer- 
hunter's rifle," she explained. 

Hereupon the little dog laughed, showing that 
it had the true hunting instinct. 

Standard Directions. 

He — " I understand that Mrs. Wiggins re- 
jected Mr. Wiggins thirteen times before she ac- 
cepted him." 

She — " Yes. She evidently thought it best to 
shake well before taking-." 


EMULATING the modern naturalist, we resolved to 
interview a rattlesnake. 

" Tell us," we asked, " if your buttons come off, will 
your wife sew them on for you ?" 

Having no antidote handy, we then judged it prudent 
to withdraw. 

tt^Y story," says the novelist to me, " is fiction, but it's 
founded upon fact." An' then I got to thinkiii' 
what a good world this would be if every man who 
claimed to tell the truth would admit as frankly when his 
fact was founded upon fiction. 

TF IT is a poor rule that won't work both w^ays, what 
shall be said of the many rules that refuse to work 
either way. 

Still Noisy. 

Mrs. Cobwigger — "Freddie seems to have broken 
nearly every one of his toys already." 

Cobwigger — " Yes, confound it ! all but the drum and 
the tin whistle." 

Driven to It. 

First writer — " My ne.xt story will be in dialect." 
Second writer — " What for ?" 
First writer — ■' I'm all out of plots." 

All Is Vanity. 

Cobwigger — " Hullo, old man ! Wheeling the baby- 
carriage, eh ? Why, where is your wife ?" 

Newpop — " Taking exercise at the physical-culture 


Miss Shadyside — " But why do you go out of your course to stop at the nearest port, captain ?" 

C.\PTAIN — "Madam, I want a mate." 

Miss Shadyside—" Oh, c-a-p-t-a-i-n ! this is so sudden !" 




o 1 

Z -c 

O 5 

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O ■* 

rt 3 '■ 





"URTLES can't turn a summerset, nor i un 
a race, nor dance a jig, but don't you go 
and think tor a mmute that they ain't 
stuffed full o" brains. If they hadn't 
been, would Cousin Marcellus Meiri- 
weather's wife's father been her father? 
Well, scarcely not ! And he wouldn't 
only not been her father, but there'd 
been a blotch on the Jayboit family 
'scutcheon that sandpaper never could 
'a' scratched off! Never I Never! 
Quite a spell ot disturbin' and spattery 
sort o' weather we been havm', 'Kiar. 
Quite a spell. " 

'Kiar Biff, of the Corners tavern, re- 
plied to Solomon Cribber, ot Pochuck, 
that we had been having quite such a 
spell, that was so ; but Landlord Biff 
showed no further interest in the Po- 
chuck chronicler, who had come over 
for a little visit with the Corners folks, plainly charged 
with a tale that he intended to tell before he wended 
his way homeward again on that rainy fall day. Tfie 
indifference of Kiar to his presence or his subject did 
not affect Solomon in the slightes' ; in fact, there was per- 
ceptible seif-reproach in his manner as he presently re- 
marked to the landlord : 

" I ought to been over before with this, I know, be- 
cause it's most amazin', but I've had to git here betwi.xt 
rains, and they've made travelin' dingswizzled slow and 
uncertain for quite a spell back, as you mowt 'a' noticed. 
You been 'spectin' me, o' course ?" 

'Kiar said no ; there hadn't been any such trouble as 
that on his mind. Not that he knowed of, he said. 

" Good ! Then I hain't been disapp'intin' you !" e.\- 
claimed Mr. Cribber, with a cheerful smile. " 1 hain t 
never disappointed nobody yit, and it d jest hook me in 
with sorrow to begin doin' of it now. And 'mongst other 
things I've got to tell you is that all the signs is that the 
weather is goin' to settle right along, now, and we're 
goin' to have an open winter. Jest mark that down, 
'Kiar, along with the rulin" figger for say about five 
fingers o' good old Jersey apple juice, till I come in ag'in, 
so's you won't torget it. The weather's goin' to settle, and 
we're goin' to have an open winter." 

'Kiar said he'd stand for the open winter, and that he 
was glad the weather was going to settle. But he said he 
didn't believe the weather would gn so far as to settle for 
the five fingers of Jersey apple. That would be cash, 
'Kiar said. The Pochuck optimist turned pessimist for a 
moment, and said something about the people being all 

wrong in charging the trusts with putting the necessaries 
of life beyond their reach, when anybody with half an eve 
ought to see that it was the spread of the no trust senti- 
ment that w-is doing of it; but he came back to his 
wonted cheerfulness pretty soon, cracked a couple o< 
fingers vigorously, and said : 

" Yes sir, an open winter. That ought to be news to 
make you feel good, even over here to the Corners. And 
Cousin Marcellus Merriweather has been to see us agin. 
And it was him that said to Uncle David BecKendarter, 
only yisterday : 

" ' Uncle David,' he says, • turtles can't turn a summer- 
set, nor run a race, nor dance a jig,' lie says, • but don't 
you go and think for a minute that they ain't stuffed fuU 
o' brains,' he says. 

" Uncle David he finished lightin' his pipe, and then 
says, ' Poof I' to Cousin Marcellus in the most discouragin' 
way, and Aunt Sally says, • Your granny's nightcap, Mar- 
cellus !' she says, and made them knittin' needles o' her'a 
jest about snap. 

" ' How did my wife's father git to be her father, then ?' 
says Cousin Marcellus, talkin' as though Uncle David's 
and Aunt Sallys 'sinuations hurt him consider'ble. ' And 
why ain't there a blotch on the Jayboit 'scutcheon that 
sandpaper couldn't never 'a' scratched off?' he says, and 
Uncle David and Aunt Sally said they didn't know. 

" ' Cause turtles is stuffed full o' brains, that's how and 
that's wtiy !• says Cousin Marcellus. ' And not only 
stuffed full o' brains, but full o' the milk o' human kind- 
ness !' he says. 'If it hadn't been for turtles Bailiwick 
Jayboit wouldn't 'a' been my wife's father, and the Jayboit 
scutcheon 'd be splotched worse than cow tracks on the 
week's wash laid on the grass to dry !' says he. 

" I've an idee that mebbe Uncle David was on the p'lnt 
o' sayin' somelhin' a little brash to Cousin Marcellus, li.e 
way he took his pipe out of his mouth and riz it in the 
air. but Cousin Marcellus kind o' gulped a little and spoke 
up quick and fast, like as if he was bound to git them 
turtles and the Jayboit 'scutcheon before ihe mtetin while 
ne had the floor, so as they wouldn't be lost, (or it mov\t 
be a good spell 'fore he got along our way ag'in. 

"'Bailiwick Jayboit,' says Cousin Marcellus, ' even as 
a young man, had a good many p'lnts. He a true 
child o' natur'. He was all-pervadin' as to the clutchin" 
o' bear and setch, and he loved his neighbor as himselL 
Fact o' the matter is, he loved one o' his neighbors belter 
than himself That un was Pol'y Krimfinkle. She was 
the daughter of old 'Squire Krimfinkle. anri he was dead 
sot that she shouldn't never marry Bailiwick Jayboit. 
though Polly wanted to the wust way. 

'■'Now, then. Uncle David.' says Cousin Marcellus, 


' all that most folks thinks about turtles when they think 
anything at all about turtles, is soup. I don't blame 'em 
none for that, for there ain't nothin' in the eatin' line 
that is better than turtles, but soup is hardly the right way 
to consider turtles in ; anyhow, old Passadanky turtles ; 
so listen. 

" ' If there's anything that roams the woods that knows 
wnat's good to eat its the bears of old Passadanky. Con- 
sequently they dote on turtles. When one o' them bears 
runs across a turtle he busts its shell with a stone, and 
tickles his palate with the meat that he finds mside of it. 
One day Bailiwick Jaybolt met one o' them bears trottin' 
along through the woods, lookin' so pleased that Bailiwick 
d 'a' knowed \vhat it was up to even if he hadn't see that 
the bear had a big stone in its paws. That bear had 
■-urt'e on its mind, and there, layin' by a log, all but 
skeert to death, was the turtle. The bear riz its stone to 
drop it on the turtle's back and scrunch it, but Bailiwick 
had setch a gentle heart that he couldn't stand by and see 
murder done, and he shot the bear dead in its tracks. 

" ' The poor turtle seemed so sorry to have Bailiwick 
go iway an leave it there, mebbe for some other bear to 
come along and scrunch, that he carried it home with him. 
He got to likin' it so that wherever he went he took it with 
him ; and a lucky thing for the Jaybolt family it was, too, 
I want to tell you, Uncle David,' says Cousin Marcellus. 
' Well,' says he, ' one time they elected Bailiwick Jaybolt to 
be tax co.llector for that deestrict, and he collected all the 
taxes for the year, and started with 'em for the county seat 
to pay 'em in. He took his turtle along. He had some 
bear traps scattered here and there in the woods, one of 
'em bein' a drop-door trap all shet in with logs and a rooL 
That door could be opened from the outside easy enough, 
but when it fell and closed things after a bear or somethin' 
had tetched the bait inside, nothin' could open it from 
that side. 

" ' Bailiwick and Daniel, as he had named the turtle, 
strolled over to see if that trap was all right, and while 
Bailiwick was inside lookin' at things he tetched the bait 
someway, and, bang ! down came the door, and Bailiwick 
mowt just as well 'a' been in jaiL There he was, eight mile 
from home, with no more chance o' any one comin' along 
that way than there was o' that door openin' and lettin' 
Bailiwick out. Every day for two weeks Daniel squeezed 
himself out between two logs and went down to the creek, 
which was only a couple o' rod away, and ketched trout and 
brung 'em to Bailiwick and kep' him from starvin'. Then 
air of a sudden Daniel couldn't find no more trout. He fished 
and fished, but not a trout or anything else could he git 
his clutch on to. Bailiwick could see starvation glarin' at 
him, and Daniel jest about went into fits over it Then 
one day Bailiwick made up his mind hed have to eat 
Daniel, to sort o' piece things out some, on the chance o' 
somebody corain' along that way and lettin' him loose 
Tore he passed away. Daniel seemed willLn', and BaOi- 
wick turned the turtle over and was on the p mt o' stickin' 
his knife into him, when an idee hit him. Instead o' stab- 
brn' Daniel to make victuals out of him. Bailiwick dug 
some fetters on to the turtle's under shefl. 

" ' " There !" says he " I'll turn Daniel out, and shet 
np r&e hole so he can't git back- in ag'in. Tften he'll 

wander, mebbe, and be lound, and spread the news, so as 
mebbe they'll find my bones, anyhow," says Bailiwick. 

" ' But Bailiwick didn't have to turn Daniel loose nor 
shet him out. As soon as Bailiwick got through carvin' 
on to the shell, Daniel didn't lose a bit o' time gettm' out 
o' that pen and makin' for the creek, tumblin' into it and 
disappearin' quicker than scat. 

Consam him 1" says Bailiwick. "Lot o' chance 

there is now of any one findin' him 1" says he. " I wish I 
had eat him, now ! " says he. 

" ' Well, w'hat had folks been thinkin' all this time, 
'count o' Bailiwick disappearia' that way ? Thoi^ht he 
had cut sticks with the ta-\es, o' course ; and, though it 
was hard to believe, a blotch come on that 'scutcheon and 
begun to loom up bigger and bigger. Polly KnmfinJcle 
jest about cried her eyes out, and her old pap sot his foot 
right down that she was goin' to marry Japhet Saltcider, 
which was his choice for her, anyhow, and the day was 
sot. That very day Polly was out 'mongst the rose bushes 
havin' her last cry, when out o' the water come somethin', 
and Polly wiped her eyes and see it was a turtle. The 
turtle come on towards her as fast as it could, and then 
Polly see that it wa'n't only a turtle, but it was Bailiwick 
Jaybolt's Daniel 1 Before Polly could get wind enough to 
peep, the turtle stopped in front of her, give a fimny sort . 
of a hitch to itself,and flopped over on to its back Atul 
there, on Daniel's bottom shell, Polly read ihese here 
words : 

" ' " Shet in drop-door bear pen. Starvin'. I>. Jay- 

•• ' Polly gave one yell and fainted dead away. Her 
folks heard the yell, and when the old 'squire come runnin' 
to see what was the matter, and he see the carvin' on that 
turtle, awav he sent two men on hossback to rescue Baili- 
wick, and they done iL And he come back and married 
Polly, and got to be my wife's fatlier, to say nothin' o' 
wipin' the blotch off o' that 'scutcheon, which he couldn't 
'a' done neither of 'em, by hokey ! if turtles wa'n't stuffed 
full o' brains and the milk o' human kindness, could he?' 
says Cousin MarceUus, and Aunt Sally she heaved a kind 
of a pittyin' sigh, and Uncle David went out to feed the 
pigs. Speakin' o' them five fingers o' Jersey apple, 'Kiar, 
couldn't you sort o' consider 'em as in the light o' the milk 

o' human kindness, and " 

'Kiar shook his head with so much positiveness thai the 
Pochuck chronicler got up and went out, remarking bit- 
terly that it was a sad tiling when men couldn't rise even 
to the height of the humble turtle. 

Intensely Shocked. 

Margie (wtho has left Bostott to spend her vacation in 
the country, hearing her graiulfather ask the hired rastn if 
he found any breaches tn the pasture-fence) — " I do wish 
grandpa'd be more refined m the presence oi Ladaesaixi 
say pantaloeDS." 

The gus/img boari&r — " This turkey is delightluUy 
tender." Hasher — "Yes; I knew it would be. It was 
killed by being run over by a troITey-car." 


" Waiter. I find here in my soup a needle — a needle, sir 
•• That must be a misprint — that sliould be a noodle." 

The Cult of Nebuchadnezzar. 

The la tst health-£ad is a .diet of gr^ss.—Ejchan^e. 
A WtSE man said, '■ All flesh is grass." 
*• And now at length it comes to pass 
That there's no illness we endure 
Which eating grass will fail lo cure. 

Tf shajrp gastritis holds you down. 
On ordinary diet frown ; 
But gather grass, gravied « ith dew, 
And eat it and your health renew. 

Even if you're thrown in tliat abysm 
Of dire, cantankerous rheumatism. 
Remember it cannot harass 
If you confine your nueals to grass. 

Nebuchadnezzar, king of old, 

We used to think was badly ''sold"; 

But now it's very plainly seen 

His was the coming true cuisine. 

From pasturage of the field and lawn 
His health and strength were daily drawn ; 
And so for years he shunned life's knocks 
By eating like the faithful ox. 

Who would not forfeit bread and cheese, 
.And quail on toast, with meat anil grease. 
Now those who know with force maintain 
That grass surpasses flour or grain ? 

Vile drugs have thus become a bure. 
And doctors need not practice mtire. 
Fruits, too. will go. and garden ••sass." 
Since all mankind must "go t" grass" T 


What He Thought. 

Boss — " What on earth made you give 
out that interview ? It reads as il you 
were drunk at the time." 

Caiuiiiiate — "That's just the trouble 
— I tti<i'iT't know I was loaded." 

A Thought. 

pvICKY was in pepvsive 
'•It's really dreadful,' 
he reflected. " to gaze 
into the laces of your 
friends and remember 
that they all must die." 
He sigherf. A moment 
later he arose a n «k 
nrshed to a mirror. He 
looked' long and ear- 
nestly. " Bah Jove !" 
he said. 

Her Trouble. 

Blifkins — " Miss 
Splutter seems to have 
an impediment in her 

BMkhts — " Yea; hier 
tongue keeps getting in 
tlie way whenevec slie 
attempts to talk." 

Lizzy — " Yer needn't scoff ter me because yer flung me lover over." 

Mame— •■ Keep yer milk-sop ! I wouldn't Have a lover dat didn't git jealous uv me an' black me 
two e5«es wanst ia a whilt." 


Mrs. Jcpson's Weather Nerves 

By R. K. Munkittrick 

pERHAPS the queerest part of Mrs. 
Jepson's make-up is her weather 
nerves. There are doubtless many- 
people with weather nerves, but 
I never knew any one else with 
this trouble or ailment that was 
affected by it in quite the same 
r way tliat Mrs. Jepson is. If I 
may so put it, Mrs. Jepson is a 
series of sets of weather nerves, and she has nerves for 
every kind of weather. There is the set of nerves that 
is put in action by the cloudy day, the rainy day, the gray 
day, and every other kind of day. She also has snow- 
storm nerves and nerves that are made active by humidity. 
Now, during a rainy day she becomes dissatisfied with 
the appointments of the house, no matter what they may 
be, and then she makes a parlor and a library table 
change places, and takes the Carlo Dolci from the dining- 
room and puts it in the hall, and takes the Adirondack 
etching from the hall and hangs it in the living-room. 
And on the next rainy day she will change them all back. 
Mr. Jepson recently caused her great mental pain when 
he told her that a good spell of rainy weather would com- 
pletely wear the furniture out ; and when she told him 
what a horrid brute he was for making such a remark he 
told her that one kind of weather right straight along 
would kill her because of the awful monotony of the work 
in which it would involve her ; and this did not put her in 
a better humor. Only the endless variety of the Ameri- 
c.m climate, he continued, could save her from the lunatic- 
asylum, and she should therefore be thankful that once in 
a while there was a brisk east wind to cause her to let 
up on the furniture to give the dog a bath. How strange 
that she should want to give the dog a bath whenever the 
wind blew from the east ! and how much stranger that 
the dog should run out every morning to ascertain from 
which qtiarter the wind was blowing before he couUl 
know whether he might spend the day in peace on the 
Japanese-silk sofa-cushions or be compelled to seek safety 
under the barn ! But most ot all Mr. Jepson disliked 
the weather that sent his wife forth on a shopping expe- 
dition, even if she remembered him generously in her 
purchases. And he also disliked the weather that so 
affected her nerves as to send her to the opera to seek the 
consoling influence of music, that her depression might be 

Mr. Jepson made a great deal of fun of his wife's 
nerves. One day he asked her if she thought there could 
be a climatic combination that would cause her to tear 
the passementerie off her shirt-waist, give it to the kitten 
to play with, and then kill the parrot, stuff it with prunes, 
and perch it on the best hat of the servant-girl before she 
could " give notice." 

This naturally upset Mrs. Jepson quite as much as 
could a Nile-green sky over a mouse-colored day lit by 

|iie oid-goUl draperies of a fading woodland and an ice. 
wagon joggling down the road. I will not attempt to 
give her reply, as I know that even the English language 
has its limitations ; but I will say that Mrs. Jepson wanted 
to know if she hadn't a right to her weather nerves when 
she couldn't help having them, or being a victim of them. 
Mr. Jepson, having a keen sense of humor, said that it 
was extremely unfortunate that the weather nerves that 
set her at moving heavy furniture around did not appre- 
ciate his financial condition sufficiently to drive her to- 
doing something more useful. He thought that, if she 
could be driven by a rainy day to doing the weekly wash- 
ing, that rain would be quite as desirable for his pocket 
as for the successful development of the crops ; and he 
furthermore argued that, as she would then enjoy the 
washing, even as she enjoyed the changing about of the 
pictures and furniture, all would be well. He thought 
that the weather ought to drive her to doing the family 
mending instead of to the washing of the dog ; and that 
instead of sending her off on an e.xpensive and unneces- 
sary shopping tour, it should have the salutary effect of 
opening her financial eyes and causing her to see how she 
could save money by staying home and going without a 
new gown, and by covering the straw hat with velvet for 
the winter and the velvet hat with straw for the summer. 

One day she became so exasperated that she could 
stand it no longer. 

" Why don't you," she asked sarcastically, as she drew 
herself up theatrically to her utmost inch, " find a climate 
that IS always such as affects my nerves in a way to suit 
your fancy, and take me there to live ?" 

He remained silent, and she continued, 

" Perhaps you think that such a climate does not exist 
outside of Paradise." 

" It exists right here, my dear — right here," he finally 
said, " but it is misdirected." 

" I don't understand you." 

And thus the brute replied, 

" I will explain. It is misdirected because it inspires 
you to move the furniture around instead of to do the 
housework. You just use your will-power so that your 
nerves will be superior to the weather insomuch as you 
will be able to select the kind of work that will do us the 
most good. Then there will be no wear and tear on the 
household effects, and you will be able to do all the work, 
until the first thing you know we shall be able to get 
along without a servant at all, and that will mean wealth 
and happiness beyond all doubt." 

But Mrs. Jepson was in tears. 

Keeping the Ball Rolling. 

Robinson — " It seems as though women had a mania 
for spending money." 

Rawlins — " I know it. Why, whenever my wife is too 
sick to go down shopping she sends for the doctor." 

-2 2-3 


Chauncey — •• I think 1 am deucedly dull — don't you?" 
Penelope — •' No ; deucedly clever when you talk like that." 

His Admission. 

<i THERE is considerable doubt in my mind as to what 
has just Happened to me," said the philosophical 
person, who had been struck in the small of the back and 
knocked into the middle of the subsequent week and 
almost into kingdom come by a recklessly-managed auto- 
mobile, which had run over his prostrate form in, seem- 
ingly, seventeen different directions and then disappeared 
around the corner before he could scramble to his feet 
and take note of its identity ; " but, whatever it was, I am 
disposed to admit that it happened." 

Why He Thought So. 

Bunco-steerer — " How are all the folks in Philadel- 
phia ?" 

Brooklyn man (indignantly) — " Why do you think I'm 
from Philadelphia ?" 

Bunco-steerer — " Because you are so deeply absorbed 
in yesterday's paper." 

An Exception. 

^-* Has passed unquestioned by, 
.\nd yet I know an instance when 
He carried well a lie. 

Belinda wrote she loved me not 

(Of course, though, I knew better). 

And then she tOf)k George Washington 
And stuck him on the letter. 



Quite Unexpected. 

please carve the turkey, 

Ii/ILL you please carve 
asked the landlady 

Mr. Grizzly ?" 

Mr. Grizzly, a malevolent scowl showing on his fore- 
head, picked up the carving-knife as a warrior seizes the 
sword and attaclced the fowl. Slice after slice of juicy 
white meat fell away as though it were snow yielding to 
the breath of early spring. Joints came apart as easily as 
a child's block-house is knocked down. Mr. Grizzly be- 
gan to puff an<l pant. A strange look of bewilderment 
came into his eyes. 

The cranberry sauce came on the table. It was per- 
fect. It did not, as had been expected, have the thickness 
and stringiness of glue. Mr. Grizzly was breathing hard. 
And so it went through all the dinner, and when at last 
he failed to find a hair-pin and two or three marbles in the 
mince-pie he turned white as a sheet and fell to the floor. 
Physicians were summoned and labored over him for 
hours. When at last he returned to consciousness he 

" Fourteen ye.ars in a boarding-house and heaven at 
last :" 

Snail {Jo grasshopper) — "I sha'n't race with you. You 
cheat — you started before the bell rang." 

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A Hard-luck Passenger 


SHE lazy '■ accommodation " train on 
which 1 was wearily wending my way 
across the low lands of the middle 
west had come to a standstill in a 
corn-field, and most of the male pas- 
sengers had gone out to offer advice 
in regard to the best way of getting 
a cow up from between the ties, 
through which she had fallen while 
trying to cross a little culvert di- 
rectly in fiont of the engine. It was 
hot and I preferred to remain in the 
car. So did a phenomenally lank man 
with a co!T^ple.\ion giving proof of a 
prolonged tussle with " fever-an'- 
ager." The outline of his pea-green face showed plainly 
through his thin red beard, and when he suddenly 
stretched his long, lank arms high above his head and 
yawned his jaws cracked and a plate of upper false teeth 
fell with a click to his lower jaw. Then he thrust one 
hand almost to his elbow down into one of his pockets, 
drew forth a home-made twist of tobacco, bit off a " chaw " 
with considerable writhing and twisting effort, and gener- 
ously extended the twist across the aisle to me, saying as 
he did so, 

" Have a chaw ?" 
'• No ; thank you." 
" Don't chaw ?" 
'• No ; I do not." 
"Sensible, b'gosh ! " 

Having thus broken the ice, if such a figure of speech 
is appropriate in dog-day weather, the man crept over 
into the vacant seat in front of me with as little effort as 
possible and proceeded to converse with a good deal of 
fluency in a voice marked by the nasal note of the rural 

" Goin" down the road a little ways if we ever git there. 
Train's slower nor merlasses in Jinuary. Still, I ain't in 
no hurry. Never was. It's ag'in' my principles to hurry 
much. I'm leavin' Missoury fer good, I hope.' 

His manner indicated that he expected me to inquire 
into the causes of his exodus, and I said, 
" Doesn't agree with you there, eh ? " 
" Wa-al, I dunno as it's that so much as other things. 
I've shuk as hard with fever-an'-ager in Ohier as I have in 
Missoury. But I've had a lot o' hard luck there off an' 
on — mostly on. Two years ago the drought burned up my 
crap, an' last year the floods washed it out root an' branch. 
Come up in the night an' when it went down I'd nothin' 
left on this green airth but the shirt I'd swum out in. 
Hard luck ! " 

" I should think so." 

" But I was used to it. 

I located in tue line of a 

cyclone out in Kansas four year ago, an' one day the 
cyclone got a move on itself, an' when it went on after 
friskin' by my house thar wa'n't no house left. Blowed 
my three best dawgs to kingdom come, to say nothin' o' 
my wife an' ev'ry derned other thing I owned on airth. 
Hard luck !" 
• " It surely was." 

'• Wa-al, I ain't easily downed, so I scratched around an' 
got me another wife an' two of as purty Irish-setter dawgs 
as you ever laid eyes on an' started out once more — this time 
runnin' a saw-mill in a lumber camp, an' one day I had to 
drive thutty miles to the nearest town fer supplies, an' 
when I got back I'll be danged if the old saw-mill hadn't 
burnt clean to the ground, an' the man that had been 
doin' the sawin' had run off with my wife an' both o' them 
ilawgs. Hard luck !" 

I agreed with him for the third time, and he immedi- 
ately added, 

" I got on their trail with a Mexican mustang pony 
under me an' I run 'em down the first day an' got the 
dawgs back. Her an' him had had a fallin' out already, 
an' he looked as if he'd fallen in front o' his bu7?-saw, an' 
ne wanted me to take her back, but I kicked whtii it come 
to that. I give her a dollar as sort o' alhmony, an' the last 
I see of 'em she was chasin' him with a hoss-whip in her 
liand. Hard luck — fer him ! She'd the git-upan'-git-thar 
speerit of a hyena, an' she wa'n't afeerd o' anything that 
walked on two legs nor yit on four. She was too rapid 
for an easy-goer like me. Well, then I thought I'd open 
up a s'loon in a little new town where thar was likely to 
be considdable thirstiness, but the wimmen o' the town 
objected purty to'cibly. Fact is, they had caught the 
Carry Nation disease, an' they come on an' smashed ev'ry 
derned thing to flinders ; and as if that wa'n't enough, they 
drug me out an' held me under a pump an' pumped on 
me until I was most drowned, sayin' they'd let me see how 
good cold water reely was. Then they chased me out o' 
town, an' said that was only a patchin' to what I'd git if I 
ever come back. Hard luck !" 

I reserved my opinion regarding the merits of the case, 
and he waxed still more loquacious. 

" Them fer-western wimmen has got plenty o' speei it, 
I tell ye. Well, then I went into the chicken bizness, an' 
I had five hundred plump young br'ilers just ready to 
slaughter an' market, when hanged if the chicken cholery 
didn't break out among 'em an' three hundred ot 'em 
turned up thar toes in twenty-four hours, an' the rest was 
sayin' their far' well prayers! Some of 'em died so blamed 
sudden it didn't seem to me they could be hurt much, an', 
just between me an' you, I dressed an' sold a lot of 'em, 
an' a sneak of a chap I had workin' for me let his tongue 
run about it, an' if I hadn't got ten miles the start o' the 
sheriff an' the mob with him I reckon I'd not be here now 
to tell the tale. They went back an' burned ev'ry buiklin' 


I had to the ground, an' I had to change my name an' lay- 
low for three months. Hard luck !" 

Again I bridled my tongue and refrained from the 
rudeness of expressing my candid opinion in regard to 
the matter, and he said, 

" Wa-all, next thing I did was to come east far as loway 
an' git me a tin-peddlin' outfit. I had a cousin that done 
right well at that. He'd trade his tinware fer old rags 
an' butter an' eggs among the farmers' wives, an' it was 
healthy bizness just ridin' round all day enjoyin' the so- 
ciety of the ladies ev'ry time you stopped. Well, I got an 
old plug of a hoss for fifteen dollars an' started out with 
fifty dollars wuth o' goods in my cart, an' something un- 
expected happened the very fust place I stopped. I'd got 
down from the wagon an' me an' a lady a few paoundsshy 
o' three hundred in weight was dickerin' over her ten 
paounds o' rags that she wanted about three dollars wuth 
o' tinware fer, an' rags sellin' fer half a cent a paound, an" 
while I was descantin' on the bargain she'd git if she tuk 
a nutmeg-grater fer the rags, I'll be eternally dingsquizzled 
if one o' these gol-durned awttymobiles didn't hove to 
from around a corner. It come a-tootin' an' a-plungin' 
an' a-smellin' until I'm darned if I blamed my old plug 
much fer jist about goin' wild. Before I could grab the 
reins he was off down the road like a streak o' greased 
lightnin'. Run ! By gum ! I never saw no three-year-old 
beat him at no county fair I ever went to ! I lit out after 
him, but I might as well tried to 'a' chased one o' these 
thunderbolt express trains that they say runs four miles a 
minnit ! The last I see o' that old plug he was roundin' a 
curve in the road an' the air was full o' tinware. One 
shinin' dish-pan went a good forty feet into the air an' 
come down on a spiked post of a barbed-wire fence that 
jammed a hole right through it. An', say, stranger, I 
ain't lyin' when I tell you that that old nag was found 
dead six miles from that spot with a v tsh-boiler clapped 
down over his head, an' nary another bit o' tmware in 
sight. Hard luck !" 

" Why didn't you sue the owner of the automobile ?" 

" He never give me no chance. He lit out fast as my old 
plug did, an' I never saw him no more. Well, then I got up 
an Uncle Tom's Cabin theatrical show with another feller 
— me to furnish the money an' him the comp'ny an' the 
expeerience. He was to give the show in a tent, an' we 
got a couple o' old worn-out bloodhounds an' a little 
jackass for the street peerade an' for little Evy to ride on 
in the parade, an', between you an' me, little Evy wa'n't a 
day unc'er forty-five. Fact is, she was about fifteen year 
older than her ma, or at least the lady who palmed her- 
self off as her ma in the play. You see, she was a kind of 
a dwarf, little Evy was. My pardner he v^fas Uncle Tom, 
and I was that Legree cuss, and by havin' one person take 
diffent parts we was able to give the play with seven peo- 
ple, includin' the jackass. Well, we'd been on the road a 
week, an' had made clear about a dollar an' sixty cents, 
when we struck a place where there was a county fair 
goin' on, an' our old tent was packed cram full. The 
awjence wa'n't fust class, ler they throwed peanuts at the 
actors right in their most techin' parts, an' they groaned 
an' giggl-d by turns all through little Evy's deathbed 
scene until she got so mad she plum forgot herself an' riz 

up after the dyin' scene an' cussed 'em until I thought the 
tent would come down with them laughin' an' her cussin' 
like she did. We tuk' in sixty-nine dollars that night. I 
went to bed plum fagged out, for I'd been Legree, an' 
that Harris nigger an' two or three others in the play, an' 
when I wa'n't any o' them I was monkeyin' with the 
scenery, or on the jump at soniethin' else, so when I went 
to bed about one in the niornin' I was too blamed tired to 
care what happened. You know, stranger, I b'leeve I was 
drugged, fer I never opened my peepers until noon the 
next (lay, an' then I found that Uncle Tom, my pardner, 
had eloped with little Evy, an' his wile, who was Miss 
Ophelia, had eloped with St. Clair, an' the other man in 
the play had skedaddled, an' me an' the jackass was all 
thar was left to continue the show. Hard luck, stranger !" 

The train had now drawn near a shabby little station 
and the hard-luck man picked up a limp oilcloth satchel 
and said, 

" I git off here. I've come to see a man that wants me 
to go in with him and open up a shootin' gallery. I 
reckon if I do some streak o' bad luck will overtake us 
first thing. I don't think I was born in the right time o' 
the 'moon, an' I know I wa'n't born under no lucky star. 
So long, stranger. I'm glad to have had your comp'ny 
these last few miles. Travelin' ain't so tiresome when 
you kin find some one to talk to you. So long." 

The train was delayed some time at the station, and f 
had opened my window for a little fresh air, when mv 
friend of the unlucky star came along, and stopping' 
below my window, said, 

" What in time you reckon has happened now ? They 
tell me here that the man I've rid a hundred miles to see, 
an' that I've already sent fifty dollars to as first payment 
on the shootin' gallery, was jerked up las' night fer havin' 
three livin' wives an' two years of unfinished term in the 
jail he broke out of last spring, and " • 

The train started forward suddenly and he called out- 
over his shoulder, " Hard luck !" 

I Love Them Both. 

li/HEN Mabel sings, so soft and clear, 
'' Bright visions of heavenly choirs appear^ 
And echoes come from fairy dells 
Like tinkling notes in silvern bells. 
Ah, me ! Around my heart there clings 
Sweet thoughts of love when Mabel sings. 

When Sylvia glides in lithesome dance 
My soul 's aglow, as in a trance. 
Like rippling waters on a lake, 
Fantastic forms her footsteps take ; 
With rhythmic tread, now fast, now slow. 
My heart beats time with heel and toe. 

Confess ? I love these sweethearts dear — 
Fair Mabel, with her voice so clear, 
And winsome Sylvia, as she trips 
With grace from feet to finger-tips. 
I love them both, none can deny. 
^ am their father — that is why. 


Merritt — " Which would do you the more good, a sled 
or a pair of skates ?" 

Johnnie — -"Search me; I ain't no weather o'qphet " 


Spring Lamb with Caper Sauce 

By Florence Edith Austin 

iHIS IS the true storj-, not of Mary's, 
but of Martha's, little lamb. 

Its pedigree was Herdwick, so its 
fleece was white only as city snow 
long- fallen. But it is not of beauty, 
but ol intellect I am called to write. 

This unsung Iamb was born and 
bred in Illinois, and in County Cook — 
a name suggestive of its ultimate fate. 
From the first hour of its life it seemed 
born to troul)Ie, for in that hour its moth- 
er firmly anil positively disowned it. 

This is where Martha comes on the 
stage, for it was Martha who lool<ed 
after all the sick and unfortunate ani- 
mals about the farm, and so it fell to her lot to instruct 
this unnatural mother in her maternal duties. At proper 
intervals she would proceed to the pasture and hold the 
sheep firmly by a strap about the neck while lambkin 
nursed its fill. 

Martha's home, although a farm, lay upon the out- 
skirts of the village of Poplar Grove — now a re-christened 
suburb of Chicago — and Judge Ives was an occasional vis- 
itor at the farm. 

It chanced that on the second anniversary of lambkin's 
birth, reckoning by weeks, the judge dropped in for some 
tea and a chat. 

Now, Martha was aware that it was also the lamb's 
lunch hour, but decided that lambkin must wait until lier 
waller was gone. Lambkin, however, decided differently, 
and in the mid^t of a tett-a-tete tlwre came the claitter of 
tiny hoofe along the piazza, theT» do^m the hall, and in an- 
other moment into the drawing-EO«m trottstl lambkin 
itself. When within conversational distance of ^lartha it 
halted, looked her full in the face, and gave an accusing 

Being a sensible country girl, and proud of her protege, 
Martha explained the lamb's appeal, and the judge in- 
sisted on their immediately accompaaying it on a foraging 

Lambkin gamboled gayly on before, looking back after 
■every antic to make sure that they were following. Ar- 
riving at the pasture it slipped tbtough a break in the 
■fence, then faced about as thot^h to see if they could 
avail themselves of the same tiny apertnjie. After Martha 
and the judge w«re safely wimhira tke bars it right-wheeled, 
and, like a general, conducted theni to the rear of the 
field, where its mother had coiiceaied herself among the 
hazel brush. 

The judge was ncit a Maud Muller " might have been," 
but then and there decided that a girt who could be such 
.a. good step-mother to a lamb would make a first-class 
wife. But this is the story of a sagacious lamb, not of 
love-struck bipeds, arudc a picture of a jtrdge ha4d»ng 
tightly with one hand the head of a bunting sheep white 
his free aim: enakwaced: a buxom, bhishing damsel — the 

lamb the while mtent upon absorbing a full meal — would 
not be in the least romantic. 

Hereafter, if Martha did not come promptly to lambkin, 
lambkin, like Mahomet to the mountain, would come 
seeking Martha. 

It was a few mornings after this first display of unusual 
intellect on lambkin's part that the judge stopped at the 
farm for a moment's consultation with Miss Martha before 
court convened. Just as he was departing lambkin, skip- 
ping through the opening in the fence, recognized in him 
its benefactor of a previous day, and, bleating, bounced up 
to him. 

There happened to be more urgent demands upon the 
judge's time just then, and only absent-mindedly saying 
" shoo " to lambkin, he mounted his horse and rode 
away. But after scampering back a few yards, lambkin 
seemed to remember that perseverance conquers all, and 
turnetl and followed, skipping along at the horse's heels 
like a frisky dog. 

The judge was so absorbed in thoughts of a suit ^von 
outsitlethe courts of law that when he hurriedly hitched 
his horse before the court-house and hastened in, a trifle 
late, he was still unconscious of the lamb close in pursuit. 

And as the crier proclaimed " Hear ye ! hear ye ! this 
court is now declared open," lambkin wriggled its way 
between attorneys, witnesses, and line-fence contes\.\ntS to 
a clear space fronting the judge's bench. Here, bracing 
itself firmly on its wabbly legs, much like a carpenter's 
horse, it proceeded to bleat out as ardent and impassioned 
an appeal as was ever addressed to a judge. 

" What ! another promising young barrister pleading 
at the bar ?" exclaimed the judge, leaning over the desk to 
view the lamb. " Your case, sir, shall have- preced-ence on 
the docket. I appoint Deputy Doirnelly to provide the 
plaintiff immediately with a dish of milk." 

It was but a few weeks later when a brrdal party 
wended from the farm to the xillage church close by. The 
towTi and country-side were present, for both Martha and 
the judge were popular. 

It was just as the clergyman had reacheil the most im- 
pressive portion of the marriage ritual that lambkin- canue 
capering in its stiff-legged way up the aisle, dodjjed the 
ushers whof tried to intercept it, and lined up beside the 
miuiister ; then, with a reproachful look at the bride, it 
bleated out the story of its neglect — for in the confusion ot 
the day lambkin and its needs had been utterly forgotten. 

When the bridal party left the altar lambkrR led the 
way, bleatiirg a recessional. But the bride still ex|>i'es9es 
grave doubts- as to the validity of the marriage, for she 
avers that her " I will " was not a response to> the rn>ptial 
vow, but was solemnly addressed to the lamb, bering a 
promise chat it siiouW have its dinner. 

OETH hael never before seen a hump-backed' man. 
■^ '• Mamma," she whispered softly, "did he know he 
was going to have a bicycle before he was bom .'" 


An Old Salt's Observations. 

THEM lawyers is clever chaps. 
* I dropped in the other day 
when one was arguin' of a divorce- 
case. The lawyer for the other 
side had jest been sassin' him. 
He spoke up real indignant like 
an' said, a p'int in' to the chap that 
had been a-callin' of him names, 
'•You call me a wrecker of 
homes !" he said. " Nothin' could- 
n't be no further from the truth. 
I'm jest a letter-shifter." " A let- 
ter-shifter I" exclaimed the other 
lawyer. " What do you mean by 
that, sir ?" " Why, all I do," re- 
marks the first lawyer, "is to 
change the position of the letter 
' i ' in that well-known word ' unit- 
ed.' I shift it till it sets abaft the 
' t,' an' then the couple that has 
gone to court is jest ' untied.' " 

Praisin' a man for knowin' a 
little bit about a lot o' things is 
like praisin' one for havin' loved 
a lot of women some. Th' man 
you re'lly want to give a medal to 
is th' chap tiiat knows all there is 
to know about one thing, an' th' 
feller that has loved one woman 
well enough to furnish up a little 
flat for her, with a mechanical 
piano an' other happinesses in it 
ready to her hand an' heart. 


No Chance To Spoon, 

Bride — " What is the brake- 
man lighting the lamps for ?" 

Bridegroom — " We are coming 
to a tunnel, my dear." 

Bride — " But what's the use of 
tunnels if they light the lamps ?" 

" He's been running after that girl for six months." 
" Why don't he stop ?" 
" Well, he 'd rather be running after her than have her running after him.' 

Maude — " I 
Anrie — " 


heard Mrs. Hardup had a dream of a hat ?" 
I suppose she couldn't afford the real 


Gobang — " I wonder who this is that advertises for the- 
return of a watch ' and no questions asked ' ?" 

Ukerdek — "Some man. No woman would do it." 

Spot-matching Monkey. 

I I PON the stoop, throughout the autumn day, 
'-^ I fit and listen to the sobbing sea. 
And poker with a vim that's big I play, 

And swiit the chips come rolling in to me. 

What care I if sarcastic people sigh 

Of us, who're blithe as sun-kissed Hottentots, 
The while we make the hearts and aces fly, 
•• They're but four grinning monkeys matching spots"? 

We may be monkeys matching spots, ah me ! 

Because we're having cor<ls of fun, you know, 
Upon the top of sport's cocoa-nut-tree, 

Milking the cocoanut of joy aglow. 


No Danger. 

liflLLlAM TELL shot the 
from his son's head. 

"No," he admitted; "I had no 
fear of hurting the boy. He had just 
raised a crop of football hair." 

The truth thus revealed, the deed 
naturally lost much of its glory. 

She (dreamily)—" Why don't you 
put your arm around my waist ?" 

He (earnestly) — " I would if you'd 
only give me a diagram." 

Lon^ Bill's Romance 

By Lowell Otus Reese 

}0, I NEVER has but one love affair, and 
I'm free to confess, stranger, that I doesn't 
yearn for any more of the same. Which 
it ropes a man's reason entire and starts 
him runnin' the range plumb loco, and 
when he wakes up they's burs in his hair 
and his whiskey dort't taste right for a 

We'd been workin' the Feather bar for 
six months and was plumb reekin' with 
dust when Calamity Ike and me comes 
down to Calore Station to do a little idlin' 
and vegetate some. I 'low that between 
■us, me and Calamity has enough dust to sink a fiat-boat, 
and we ain't none modest about sayin' so, either — espe- 
cially when we has about six rounds of pizen tucked away 
under our jumpers. So it happens that by the time we're 
a week in Calore Station everybody there that's old enough 
10 set up and take notice knows that we're a couple of 
gravel miners fresh from a big strike, and that we views 
expenses with contempt and pines for a town where we 
might spend money in a way that would cast more credit 
■on our reputations. 

One day there comes to town a tenderfoot actor and a 
•shy-lookin' little girl which he gives out is his sister, fresh 
from some private dancin' academy in Philadelphia. He 
mentions that he's due to start a show over in McPhee's 
dance-house, and he plasters the town with bills adver- 
tisin' the same. Of course me and Bill arrives on the 
scene soon, and we early introduces ourselves by shootin' 
the Philadelphia actor's plug hat full of holes, thereby 
(Irawin his attention to us a whole lot. He takes it game, 
though, and after he's able to breathe without swallerin' 
his heart he invites us up to have a drink. We graciously 
accepts and takes two more, and then we falls on his neck 
and announces that we're ripe to take in his show and 
buy the whole house. He shakes us by the hand and as- 
sures us most solemn that never, even in Philadelphia, has 
he ever met two more accomplished gents, and to prove 
that he speaks from his heart he takes us round to his 
hotel and presents us to his sister. 

Right there me and Calamity falls in love and mental 
resolves to shun the snake-pizen and throw away our guns. 
That little dancin'-academy bud ropes us both at one 
throw and we foUers her round like a tame chicken and begs 
her to put the brandin'-iron on us any time. Of course 
me and Calamity falls out a heap. We're like two robins 
■fightin' over the same worm, and I frankly confesses that 
I hankers to slay Calamity, while Calamity mentions with 
tears in his eyes that the time draws near when he plants 
me out on the sunny hillside, where the noddin' daisies 
blooms over my quiet form. It gets so that we avoids one 
another and meets only at the home of the shy dancin' girl, 
where we sits and glares at each other most malevolent. 

It couldn't go on forever. ' The day before the two was 
'.eavin' Calore Station, Calamity and me drops into the 

hotel, and we both asks the girl to yoke up. I hints plenty 
broad that if I ain't the happy man there's a funeral due 
to strike Calore, and Calamity gives it out cold that if he 
loses his ante he's not goin' to be responsible for what 
happens to me. The girl stampedes in her feelin's about 
that time and then the tenderfoot gallops in and soothes 
her grief. 

" Now, gents," says the tenderfoot, after he quiets her a 
little, " you've got to proceed like they do back in Philadel- 
phia or my sister pulls out of the game ! The thing stacks 
up this-a-way : You both holds aces up and I judges nei- 
ther one of you backs down ?" 

I maintains that I'm in the game to stay and Calamity 
points out most passionate that when he hangs up his bluff 
it's there for keeps. 

"Then," says the tenderfoot, very sorrowful, "they's 
nothing left but to shoot it off." 

Me and Calamity agrees, a whole lot zealous ; but the 
tenderfoot stands pat and swears we have got to pull it off 
like they do in Philadelphia. 

" You has a friend to take care of your weapons," he 
says. " You meets on some lonely hillside, marks off fif- 
teen paces, and when the word is given you plugs each 
other. If you misses, you waits for the word and tears 
loose again all reg'lar." 

Me and Calamity never hears of such fool plays as 
that, but we're in love and ready for anything. So we 
hands over our guns ; and just at sunset we sneaks out 
into the chaparral and meets the tenderfoot and the 
dancin'-academy girl under a live oak about half a mile 
from camp. The girl is weepin' and nervous and I 
thinks she's afraid I'm goin' to be perforated. Calamity 
thinks similar about himself. The tenderfoot steps off 
the distance and hands us our guns and a pocketful of 
ca'fridges apiece. 

" Now, gents," he says when all is ready. " in Philadel- 
phia, when gents is about to shoot one another up, they has 
a drink together and uses one another very polite. For 
when one gent is about to stampede across the Great Di- 
vide," he says, " they ain't no use sendin' any hard feelin's 
along with him." 

The drink idee seems a noble institution to Calamity 
and me and we takes to it gleeful and unanimous. The 
dancin'-academy girl mixes us a couple of glasses and 
hands 'em out hke a born artist. 

" Here's luck, Bill!" says Calamity. 

" Here's hopin' you'll find pay on the other side, Calam- 
ity!" says I, and we drinks. 

It ain't no more than down before it goes to my head. 
Calamity seems to be dancin' in the air and the world 
whirlin' around like a tumble weed rollin' across the 

" Take your places, gents," says the tenderfoot. 

We wabbles to our posts and faces each other. 

"Are you ready, gents ?" says the tenderfoot. " Fire ! 
One — two — three !" 


Something hits me spang between tlie eyes and I goes 
down in a heap. But I ain't dead none, and I sits up and 
sees Calamity sittin" on the ground with ^his lelt hand 
clutchin' liis heart. He turns loose again — plumb forget- 
tin' them Philadelphia rules, and I iloes the same. The 
girl is shriekin' and the tenderfoot beggin' us to act like 
gentlemen, but we're clean crazy, and we plugs away for 
four or five shots more, and then we keels over. 

"Im done for, Bill," moans Calamity. 

" My brains is shot out, pard !" says I. Then we mutual 
remembers them long years we has shared the same blan- 
ket, the sowbelly we has chawed together, and the many 
hard times we has had between us, and we crawls along 
and wraps our arms about each other's necks and remem- 
bers no more. The last thing we're conscious of is that 
it's commenced to rain and that somebody's leelin' in our 

Two days later I wakes up, chilled nearly to death. It's 
still rainin', and ther's Calamity layin' by my side. I feels 
his heart and finds it's still beatin'. I e.xaniines my head 
and am a heap astonished to find they's no brains missin'. 
i staggers to my feet and kicks Calamity till he wakes 
up too. 

"Ain't I in heaven yet ?" asks Calamity. 

" No," says I, " nor hell, neither — for it don't rain down 
there like this ! " 

We locks arms and staggers down to our shack, where 
we builds up a fire and has a drink. Then we sits around 
and marvels and wonders what's happened. 

" That was powerful whiskey the tenderfoot saws off 
onto us !" says Calamity. 

" Philadelphia must be a terrible place !" says I. 

Just then I notices something wrong with the last 
ca'tridge m my gun. I e.xammes it and Calamity does the 

" Sour dough !" says Calamity. 

And so it was ! That pasty-faced tenderfoot had 
moulded some bread into bullets and blackened it with lead 
scrapin's ! 

•• We've been fiimflammed, Bill !" wails Calamity. " The 
blankety-blanked tenderfoot doped our whiskey an' then 
left us settin' out there in the rain pluggin' one another 
with chunks of flapja,ck !" 

1 has an idee sudden. I drags myself over to the fire- 
place, lifts up a stone, and discovers that our dust is all 
gone. Away down in the bottom of the hole I fishes up a 
note which reads : 

"After a duel in Philadelphia, we always takes a drink. 

'Frisco Jim." 

Which the same, bein' mighty good advice, we follers it 
with a dozen and pulls out for the Feather bar. 


Mrs Reilly— ••.Shure. an ;itilier all their • billin' an' cnoiii' ' Patsey Casey an' Mary Kelly ain't 
goin' to be married. Phwat's th' matter ?" 

Mr. O'Brien — "Th' bride insi-ted on havin' orati^e-bloisoms wid her weddin'-dress.' 


A Testimonial. 

THESE long cigars are veiy fine. 
AlUiough they're only three for 
And golden raptures e'er are mine 
) When swift for one of them I dive. 

' I smoke them to the very end — 
I Vei.on them tight my teeth areshut. 

\ While all the wreaths of smoke ascend 
And they're reduced unto a •'butt." 

The fr-igrant butts I gayly grind 

And granulate ior cigareite 
.\nd pipe, and in this way 1 find 

A pile of cash I save, you bet ! 
In short, all care so quick is lost 

While on those lovely weeds I 
That I can scarce believe they cost 

Across the counter three for five. 

And Avoid Colds. 

«, A H I" cries the lecturer, " we all must cross this 

vast ocean of life. Its deeps and its s'nallows, 

its calms and its storms, await us. Who among us 

can say what is best for us to take with us on the 

journey ? Who " 

•' Take a pair of Gumdrop's rubbers," advises a 
commercial traveler who has dropped into the lec- 
ture-hall to kill time while waiting for his train. 


With a glance she tried to cow hi:Ti. But 
he only looked sheepish. 
" Dog '." she e.xclaimed. 

He choked — there was a frog in his throat. 
Then, realizing he had made a monkey of himself by 
acting like a bear, he ducked. 

No Difference. 

Visitor — " Hello, boys, where have you been ?" 

Boston pyiilie—" Oul in our automobile." 

Visitor — "But that's a goat you have hitched to your 


Boston IViiitf—'' Yes ; but his redolence is that of an 


See V/. Shakespeare. 

Miss Frog — •' Why don't you go on the stage ?" 
Miss Toad — •' Because I can't have the jewel grabbed 
out of mv head." 


<« THESE artists make me tired," growled the theatrical 
manager, tugging at his beard. 

" They do ?" asked the press-agent. 

"Yes. Here's the walking-lady demanding a carriage 
to and fioni the theatre." 

Jaspar — " I think I have reason to believe that that 
last poem of mine is a classic." 

Juiiipuppe — " Why so ?" 

Jiispar — " I find that all my friends have either seen 
it or heard of it, but none of them has read it." 


Wife (w/;o has been away's —"You must have liked that breakf-ast-food, James, dear. 
Ja.mes — " Yes, darling. It was great (sotto voce) to start the tire with, mornings." 

There isn't a single box left.' 


Cash ! ! 

(( DRIGHT as a dollar." said his dad 

^■^ When Louis went to Yale. 
The boy, you know, soon learned to row. 
He made the records sail. 

They never call young Louis bright 

As a dollar any more ; 
He won a cup, his stock went up — 

He's now a Louis d'oar ! 

A Misnomer. 

Cobwigger — '• Look here ! Did you break that rubber- 
plant ?" 

Freddie — •' That ain't no rubber-plant. I pulled at it 
till all the leaves came out, and it didn't stretch a bit." 

A Comparison. 

piERPOXT MORGAN, in his handling of the arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, has shown himself to be so effi- 
cient a manager that experts compare him with Billy Mad- 
den in the palmy days when that worthy had in hand and 
at heart the interests of John L. Sullivan. 

The Point of View. 

Miss Weary — " Father always turns the gas oft" at ten 

Slaylate — "That's first rate. I was just going to ask 
vou to do it." 

I IGHTNING does not strike twice in the same place 
because the place is not there the second time. 


. /t M(ii^ 

3. 'S-juHiE GOODMA.N- ■ If I only knew you would quit nibbling my cabbages I wouM try and stop hunters from shooting you. 




Rapid Transit. 

LL BALES bet Tom Smith a dollar that he could 
pick up a hornet and carry it across the street," 
savs the first loafer in front of Seth Green's grocery-store. 
'• Which won ?" 

" Wa-al, Bill got across with the hornet, but Tom 
argies that the hornet lifted him about twenty foot o' the 

The Hair of the Dog. 

(( MEED not tell me 


that like does not 
cure like," asserted the 
man with the apologetic 

" \Vho tried to tell 
you so ?" asked the man 
with the aggressive chin. 

" No one ; but tlie 
point I wanted to make 
was this : My wife woie 
one of these drop-stitch 
waists until she got rheu- 
matism, and then the 
nurse spread mustard on 
the waist and made a 
porous-plaster of it and 
cured the rheumatism." 

Fashion Note. 

THE science of style 
being to place decora- 
tion where it will be seen 
by the greatest number 
of people and therefore 
be most effective, Rus- 
sian blouses will this 
vear be richly ornamenl- 
ed on the back, in a run- 
ning: stitch. 

was boasting of his 

"But," acked the 
boarders, " can you find 
the strawberry- in a short- 
cake ?" 

Seeing his failure, the 
great detective begged 
them not to tell Dovle. 

Mother — "Yes, Bobby ; in Greenland the nights are six months long." 
Bobby — "I am mighty glad I don't live there. You know you some, 
times send me to bed without my supper." 

He Was Convinced. 

Smithby — " I know I need glasses." 

Oculist — " How do you know ? ' 

Smithby — " Because last night I was reading a news- 
paper and I couldn't tell whether or not a certain word 
was ' building' or 'blinding.'" 

Oculist—" Which did it turn out to be ?" 

Smithby — " It rurned out to be • bulldog.' " 

Why He Com- 

njlY brother owned a 
' ' milk-route. He says 
to me one day, " There's 
one man that I ain't goin' 
to serve no more be- 
cause he's always kickin' 
on t h e quality of the 
milk. He says it ain't 
what it's cracked up to 
be." "Who is it?" I 
asked. " They call him 
Appetite Joe," he an- 
swered. "You've read 
about him. He's the 
chap who's been arrested 
such a lot of times for 
sellin' of gold-bricks to 
farmers when they come- 
to town." 


complains that she 
has too much leisure." 

"Well, why doesn't 
she take up something?" 

" She does — she takes 
up other people's time." 

Proof Positive. 

Hawkins — •• That 
pickpocket they caught 
is really a rery intelli- 
gent fellow." 

Sampson — " No doubt 
of it. He proTed that by 
his ability to locate a 
lady's pocket. 

Slander travels far- 
■ ther than do compli- 

The Confession. 

IMO attempt to cover up, 
' ^ Keeping nothing hid, 
Hear tlie blatant little fool 
YeUing '^ Katy did !" 

Ah, were human wisdom yours, 

Katy. standing pat, 
You would look us over and 

Shout, "It was the cat !" 


' How did 

Influence of Early Surroundings. 

li/E are listening to the new prima donna. 

" Her voice has a great range." we say. 
she obtain it ?" 

" It is rumored," e.xplains our friend, " that she used to 
be a cook." 

A Fact. 

COOLS' day really begins upon the first of April and 
■ ends upon the thirty-first of March. ' 

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2. O 

At the Minstrels. 

said Mr. Curntbork, as the two 
I have 

«|\/|R CR0.4KDALE, 

* * eminent end men settled into their chairs 
a puzzhng interrogatory to propound." 

" Indeed ?' asl<ed Mr. Croatcdale, pulling up his collar 
and smoothing his wig ; " indeed ? You have a puzzling 
interrogatory to propound, have you, Mr. Curntbork ?" 
" Yes, sir." 

" Then," suavely said Mr. Croakdale, " I would sug- 
gest that you pro- 
ceed with your 

" Very well. 
What, sir, is the 
difference li e - 
.tvveen a girl who 
always drops the 
letters in the 
mail - box at the 
corner and the 
girl w h o faints 
seventeen consec- 
utive times in 
one day -'" 

" What is the 
difference b e - 
tween a girl who 
always drops the 
letters in the 
mail-box at the 
corner and the 
girl w h o faints 
seventeen con- 
secutive times in 
one day?" 

" That is the 
query I have ad- 

" That is too 
easy," obsejved 
M r . Croakdale, 
carelessly thrum- 
ming upon h i s 
" The girl w h o 
always drops the 
letters in the 
mail-box is look- 
ing for some one 
to write her, and 
the girl who 

faints seventeen consecutive times in one day needs some 
one to right her." 

" Not so," declared Mr. Curntbork ; " not so. You 
haven't guessed it." 

" No ? Well, there's another answer. One is a mail- 
dropper and the other is a female dropper." 
" Wrong again." 

"Tell it, then," sniffed Mr. Croakdale. 
"One posts the mail and the other pales the most." 
There was .i rumble of the tenor-drum and a crash upon 

the bass-drum, while a fanfare ol trumpets indicated that 
Mr. Pulsiler Suggles, the world-renowned tenor, was 
about to sing " Susie's teeth were filled with gold and 
sunny was her hair. " 

Thomas's Little Joke. 

XHOMA-S BIRDSALL is a bright little fellow of five and 
something of a practical joker. He also has a temper- 
amental antag- 
onism for Torkel 
Oleson, a class- 
mate, aged four- 
teen, wlio has all 
the stolidness of 
h i s nationality 
combined with a 
lack of mental 
ability, which 
gives the poor 
boy a vacuity of 
countenance and • 
an awkwardness 
of body that the 
quick-witted and 
n i m b I e - f o o t e d 
Thomas resents. 
One day the 
teacher allowed 
Thomas to o r - 
ganize a game of 
"Follow my lead- 
er," and in choos- 
ing his train 
Thomas placed 
Torkel on the 
rear end, where 
he could get a 
good view of his 
follower's a w k - 
wardness as he 
turned corners. 
Thomas led his 
line through sev- 
eral agile move- 
ments, such as 
minuet steps, 
birds, R y i n g 
frogs hopping, 
horses galloping 
— all the time 
keeping a mischievous eye upon Torkel. 

At last the vivacious Thomas skipped toward Miss 
Brown, threw- his arms about her and kissed her twice. 
Of course the whole line imitated this performance, and 
when it came Torkel's turn he, too, accomplished the feat. 
Miss Brown, looking for Thomas at this part of the game, 
discovered the young humorist dancing up and down, 
slapping one leg gleefully and hugely enjoying the embar- 
rassinent of the victims of his facetious fancy. 

Harriettr Wilbur. 

Mrs. Newly wed- .'\rtist — "Good-bye, dearest, for a little while ; but before I go 
me, do you still love me better than your life?" 
Mr. NewlvweI)-.\RTIST — "Certainly, dear. Don't I eat your biscuits ?" 


The Invulnerable Eel of Skeejack Pond 

The True Tale at Last of How the Monster Was Undone 

By Ed Mott 

HERE was once a big eel lived over in 
Skeejack pond," Solomon Cribber be- 
gan to chronicle, but Landlord 'Kiar 
Biff broke in on him and interrupted 
the thread of his narrative by saying, 

" Yes. we recollect hearin' all about 
that big eel, Solomon, and he wa'n't sj 
'tarnal big, after all, so them says that 
recollects seein' him ; not more than 
seven foot long, at the most, so they 

This interruption seemed to discon- 
cert Mr. Cribber a moment, as it was 
evidently unexpected ; but he came to 
himself without a ruffle visible and 
picked up 'Kiar's gauntlet. 

" Then their recollections must 'a' 
slipped a cog or two," said he, " or 
else they are shrunk by age, if that is 
the best they kin do fer that big eel of 
Skeejack pond. Now, there ain't a better recollector in 
the hull ding county than Uncle David Beckendarter, and 
what does he say ? He says that he has seen that eel 
sunnin' itself more times than he's got fingers and toes, 
and wunst or twicet he mistook it fer a saulog layin' in 
the water, and only found out his mistake when he went 
to sock his pikepole into it to pull it in, and the pike 
bounced offen it like strikin' ag'in' a ton of Injin rubber, 
but woke the eel up, and it rolled over out o' reach. And 
what did Uncle David's brother Abner used to say about 

that eel ? Why " 

"Well, it don't make no difference !" interrupted 'Kiar 
Biff again. " Nobody don't keer about tliat big eel, now- 
adays, anyhow. Penstock Swaly killed it fifty year ago, 
and it's dead, and nobody hain't never seen it sence." 

Solomon Cribber almost gasped, he was so surprised 
at this from 'Kiar. 

" What !" said he, after he had recovered his breath. 
" Penstock Swaly ! If that don't make Uncle David Beck- 
endarter's brother Abner's bones rattle in the tomb it'll be 
because tliere ain't no more rattle to 'em, on account o' 
their havin' fell to dust! Penstoek Swaly killed that eel 
jest about as much as you did, 'Kiar, but there ain't no 
law to prevent your thinkin' he did if you want to I It 
that's the idee folks has about the takin' off o' that big 
Skeejack-pond eel it's time they knowed the truth ! Poof! 
Penstock Swaly ! Penstock Fiddlesticks ! An unfortu- 
nate bear, that wa'n't a bit to blame fer the trouble he 
got into, killed that eel, and the harpoon he done it with 
is in the Beckendarter family to this day !" 

'Squire Birkett, from over Hogback, stared at 'Kiar 
Biff, and 'Kiar Biff stared at 'Squire Birkett, both with 
their mouths wide open, but neither uttered a word. 

" The truth has got to be told about the undoin' o' that 

tremendous eel," said Mr. Cribber ; " and I happen to be 
the feller to do it. This is it, unvarnished. Unvarnished ? 
Why, there ain't even a priniin'-coat of anything else on 
to it ! 

" Early one fall, Uncle David's brother Abner got up 
one niornin' and says, 

" 'I guess I'll go over around Skeejack pond and hang 
up a few deer.' 

" So he went over there and fixed things fer layin' in a 
stock o' venison. He had heered all about the big eel o' 
Skeejack, but he hadn't never happened to set his eyes 
on to it, and he had consider'ble doubt that there was 
any such a critter in tiie pond. The first day he was in 
camp on this huntin' trip o' his'n his dog started a whop- 
per of a buck and run it straight fer the pond. Uncle 
David's brother Abner was layin' in wait fer him, and as 
he sousett in the water he let him liave one bar'l o' his 
gun ; but the deer kep' right on swimmin'. Before Abner 
could git into him with the second bar'l the buck was a 
good ways out in the pond, but Abner plunked him ag'in, 
and jumpin' in his boat, pulled fer the deer with all his 
might, fer the game old chap was swimmin' right ahead, 
as if the heft o' lead in him wa'n't nothin' worth thinkin' 

" ' I hadn!t gone more than three rods in the buck's wake,' 
Uncle David's brother Abner used to say, in tellin' about 
it, * when I see him stop suddent-like, give a wiggle or 
two, and then go down out o' sight like sinkin' a rock. I 
couldn't see no reason fer him sinkin' so soggy as that, 
'cause he was puUin' a strong and stiddy stroke, and deer 
don't die o' heart disease. So I thought he had only jest 
dove to have a little fun with me, and that I'd hang 
around a spell to be ready fer him when he come up fer 

" So Abner hung around, but the deer didn't come up, 
and he charged it up to profit and loss, and paddled back 
to shore to start another one. The dogs wa'n't out more 
than twenty minutes when they begun to make music in 
the woods ag'in, and pooty soon in come a big fat doe, 
tearin' fer the pond like a locomotive. Uncle David's 
brother Abner plinked her, but she didn't stop, but went 
swimmin' to'rds t'other shore like a duck. 

" ' Rot my cowhide boots if I'm goin' to take the 
chances o' your sinkin' on my hands, like your pardner 
did ! ' says Abner, so he jumped in his boat and was most 
up with the doe by the time she got to the middle of the 
pond. He was on the p'int o' settlin' her hash, when, zip ! 
up come a black thing out o' the water, as big as a punkin, 
Abner said. In less than a second he knowed he'd been 
wrongin' folks by bein' a doubiin' Thomas, fer he reco'- 
nized to wunst that the black thing wa'n't nothin' else but 
the head o' that tremendous eel o' Skeejack pond I 

" It kind o" skeert him fer a minute, but he got hisself 
back, riz his gun, and was jest goin to sock a handful o' 

lead into the terrible skeery head when down it went out 
o' sight. It hadn't been down more than a second, 
though, when the doe swashed out o' sight as suddent as 
the bucic had. Of course then Uncle David's brother 
Abner knowed what was sinkin' his deer so amazin' quick 
and perpetual. That awlul eel was layin' fer 'em and 
yankin' 'em down to its den ! 

" ' That ought o' been bad enough, hadn't it ?' he used 
to say. ' But what else do you s'pose that ding eel done ? 
As he drug the doe under he jest throwed his tail two or 
three foot out o' the water, and had the cheek to wiggle it 
at me most aggravatin', jest the same as a feller mowt 
stick his thumb ag'in' his nose and wiggle his fingers at 
some other feller that had tried to come it over him and 
couldn't ! Mars and Jupiter ! This is rubbin' of it in !" 
Uncle David's brother Abner used to say he said when 
the amazin' impudence o' that eel struck him, so he up 
and whanged away at the yard or so of eel as it wiggled 
in the air. 

" He wa'n't more than a rod away, and he heerd the 
bullet out of his gun go ' chug !' ag'in' the eel, and see it 
glance off as if it had hit a rock ! Then he heerd one o' 
his dogs give a yelp, off on the shore. Lookin' over that 
way, he see the dog layin' there, givin' its last kick. The 
eel's tail give another wiggle, and a more aggravatin' one 
than it had before, and slipped under water like it w'as 

'• ' My eyes was hangin' out o' my head.' Uncle David's 
brother Abner used to say ; ' fer that glancin' bullet was 
the most amazin' sarcumstance I had ever run up ag'in'. 
As soon as I could git my eyes back in my head,' I've 
heerd him say, many times, ' I sot down pooty nigh dis- 
consolated and paddled back to shore. My best dog was 
deader than a b'iled ground-hog. A bullet had gone clean 
through him, and I see that it was one o' my own bullets, 
too — the one that had glanced off o' that eel's Injin-rub- 
ber hide !' 

" Now, natur'ly, them sort o' doin's didn't make Uncle 
David Beckendarter's brother Abner as joyful as gam- 
boUin' lambs, and he used to say that if anybody should 
ever ask him if he didn't cuss a little he'd own up and say 
that setch was the way he remembered it. After he got 
ashore and found his dog dead he shook his fist to'rds the 
pond and spoke his mind. 

" ' If that rantankerous eel," says he, ' thinks that I'm 
hangin' round this pond jest to keep him in venison and 
to offer up sacrifices o' dogs to him, he's barkin' up the 
wrong tree ! And I want to tell him wunst and fer all,' 
says he, ' that he's made the mistake of his life a-doin' 
what he has done ! He's got me on his trail, now, and 
he mowt jest as well come to shore and deliver up his 
scalp first as last, fer I'm goin' to git it !' says he. 

" So Uncle Davids brother Abner went home. He 
got a ten-tined spear, and every tine was a foot long, and 
sharp as sharp could be. It was a harpoon that'd 'a' 
tetched a whale's liver if it had ever been slid into a 
whale. It had a long handle, and Abner knowed how to 
use it if anybody did, I tell you ! 

" ' I know,' says he, as he looked the harpoon over, 
' that there's a spot right back o' that eel's ears where this 
harpoon '11 go in deep, like a red-hot poker into a cake o' 

tallow, and I think I know jest how to ^im this weepon to 
tetch that spot,' says he. 

" Then he went back to the pond with his weepon, 
gloatin' over the way he was goin' to red the waters of 
that ravenish eel. He follered the eel's trail, and he fol- 
lered it and he follered it. He follered it by day and he 
follered it by night, and the times he throwed his harpoon 
ag'in' the eel was more than he could count, but the eel 
jest seemed to rejoice and be exceedin' glad every time it 
hit him, it tickled him so to see it bounce off o" that hide 
o' his'n at every chug, more than ten foot out o' the water. 
He didn't keep out o' Abner's way a bit, but 'd come U[> 
as soon as Abner went out in his canoe, and fix himself to- 
be chugged at. And, do what he mowt, Abner couldn't 
slap the tines o' the spear in that soft spot behind the eel's 
ears. Do what he mowt, he couldn't hit it. 

" After workin' day and night fer more than a month, 
he found it was wearin' on to him, but the eel was as impu- 
dent and chipper as ever ; so one afternoon, after peggin' 
away at the eel all day and only makin' fun fer the aggra- 
vatin' critter, and not gittin' any nigher to the marrow of 
its backbone than he had before, he got up and says, 

" ' There ain't no use !' says he. ' That eel wa'n'ti 
never made to be killed by the hand o' livin' man !' says he. 

" Then he turned his boat and started to paddle in and 
go home, when he see somethin' movin' in the pond to'rds 
him. It turned out to be a bear, and it was comin' 
straight fer the boat. Uncle David's brother Abner 
cheered up to wunst. 

" ' The chances is,' says he, ' that the eel will tackle 
that bear. If it does there '11 be a fight, and while the 
rumpus is goin' on I'll git my chance and sock this spear 
betwixt the eel's backbone and its ears at last !' says he. 

"So he hauled to one side to give the bear and the eeli 
a fair show when they come together. The bear swum 
along, puffin" and snortin'. Abner waited fer the eel to 
tackle the bear, but it didn't. The bear went on by, and, 
Abner was rip-tearin' mad. 

•' ' Dodwollop my skin !' says he ; • I'm goin' to harpoon- 
somethin', anyhow !' says he, and paddlin' 'longside the- 
bear he slung the spear into it as hard as he could sling. 

" The spear sunk clear to the handle in the bear's back. 
It was fastened to the bow o' the boat by a rope eight foot 
long. When the harpoon socked into the bear bruin put 
on more steam and went to towin' Abner along at a two- 
forty gait ! This was better than a Fourth-o'-July picnic 
to the old man fer a while, but by and by he see that the 
bear was headin' for a dead pine-tree that stood in the 
pond one hundred foot from shore. When the bear got 
to the tree he clutched it and begun to climb. As he 
dim, the harpoon stickin' in his back, the rope begun to 
lift the bow o' the boat, and the first thing Abner knowed 
it was pooty nigh perpendic'lar in the air, and he was 
tumblin' backwards into the water, kerplunk ! He swum 
fer shore, and when he got there he turned and looked 
back. The bear was up in the tree, tuggin' to git the har- 
poon out o' hisself Abner run to his cabin anil got his- 
gun. When he got back there was the bear, still in the 
tree, but he had got the harpoon out of his back and was 
holdin' it in his paws, as if he was ready to chuck it at 
somethin'. He was starin' down into the water, and 


Uncle David's brother Abner used to say that he never 
see setch a skeert look on a livin' creatur's face as was sot 
on the face o' that bear. Then all of a suddent the bear 
sent the harpoon a whizzin' down into the water. 

" ' Throwin'my harpoon away, be you ?' hollered Abner, 
madder than snakes, and he sent a bullet through the 
bear's conk. Down bruin tumbled, and fell dead in the 
boat, which had dropped back into the water at the foot 
o' the tree. Abner swum out and got into the boat. He 
grabbed the rope to haul the harpoon from where the bear 
had throwed it in the pond, but the harpoon wouldn't 
haul. He tugged and tugged, and by and by the harpoon 
begun 10 come. And when it did show itself Abner most 
dropped dead 'longside the bear. The big and unyieldin' 
eel was fast to it, deader than the old pine-tree ! The 
harpoon was socked deep betwixt its backbone and its 
ears ! 

"Then Uncle David's brother Abner knowed what 
had put that awful skeery look on the bear's face. The 

eel had followed the bear, and was on the p'liit o' clinibin' 
the tree and gittin' it, when the bear got the harpoon loose 
and harpooned the eel in the only place where a deadly 
chug could land ! Of course if Abner had knowed all 
that he'd 'a' cut his hand off before he'd 'a' shot that bear, 
so I've heerd him say more than a hundred times. But 
unfortunately he.didn't know it. 

" Penstock Swaly ! " exclaimed Solomon Cribber at 
this stage of his narrative. "So you think Penstock 
Swaly killed the big eel o' Skeejack pond, do you, 'Kiar ? 
Well, now you see he didn't. The bear my Uncle David 
Beckendarter's brother Abner harpooned killed that eel ! 
That's the true undoin' o' the big eel o' Skeejack pond, 
and it's time folks knowed it !" 

'Squire Birkett, from over Hogback, stared at 'Kiar Biff, 
and 'Kiar Biff stared at 'Squire Birkett, both still with 
their mouths wide open, but neither one of them uttering 
a word ; which seemed to please Solomon Cribber, for he 
went awav smiling-. 

««/~"LEOPATRA had just dissolved the pearl. 

" Lovely !" cried the girls. " What an original way 
of showing off an engagement-ring !" 

The fact that it could only be done once, however, 
militated against its popularity. 

Touching Farewell. 

Mack — " Higbee borrowed one hundred dollars of me 
l>efore he left." 

IVyld — " Rather a touching farewell, eh ?" 

The Literary Life. 
(( I UNDERSTAND that Penthrall is devoting himself 
exclusively to fiction nowadays." 
'■ Fiction ? Well, I should say so ! He's writing noth- 
ing but advertisements." 

Highly Satisfactory. 

Askum — " Is your patient with the grip progressing as 
rapidly as you expected ?" 

Dr. Fa/fee (jubilantly) — "Yes, thank you. He has 
already developed pneumonia." 

The country boy — " How'd yer like it out here?" 

The city kid — •• Aw, dere ain't no trolleys ter dodge, an' no keep-off-de-grass signs, nor cops ter 
chase yer. nor nutliin'." 

The walking delegate — "The sign on the dure says y'u're a 

The artist — " Well?" 

The WALKING DELEGATE — "Well, Oi want to See yure union car-rd." 

Significant Signal. 
14 I \VAS much amused," said Cawker to Cumso, 
" at what a returned Klondiker told me of the 
customs of the gold mines." 

" Interesting and funny, were they ?" 
" He said that in his shanty six men slept to- 
gether. They all lay in a row, like spoons in a case, 
facing one way, to keep warm. When one of them 
became tired of lying on one side he would call out, 
' Lawyer !' and they would all turn at once." 
" Why did they use the word ' lawyer ' ?" 
" That meant, ' Lie on the other side." " 

At the Pinnacle. 

k' rvON'T vou think the virtuoso, Rosinini, has 
made great strides in his profession, or in 
his art, whichever you choose to call it ?" Mrs. Skid- 
more asked her husband. 

" I suppose he has," replied Mr. Skidmore. " I 
am told that he began as a mere fiddler." 

A Sincere Opinion. 

(( lifRIGHT sent me a cheque this morning." 
" "Well, what of it ?" 
" I consider it the best thing he ever wrote." 

George Washington. 

His truthful soul is marching on. 

U L' R R A H for George— great 
' ' George, our king ! 

We chant his praises high. 
He fought the fight of good aright 

And never told a lie. 

'Tis said sometimes he blurted out 
A sulphurous oath or two, 

And often bold, great stories told, 
But not a thing untrue. 

Conveniences of modern days 
Were all to him unknown ; 

He would not try to tell a lie, 
Nor could he telephone. 

No murderous trolleys troubled him, 
No Waldorf salad closed ; 

No automobile caused him woe, 
No telegraph annoyed. 

Perhaps if these inventions great 
Had been to him supplied 

'Twould had direct the same effect- 
Like us he would have lied. 

Some modern folks don't hesitate 

To lie as well as pray ; 
And often then they lie again — 

George was not built that way. 

'Tis best that we achieve for truth 

Great notoriety 
Than take first prize for all the lies 

Told in society. 

Great soldier, patriot, lieless man ! 

We laud and honor thee. 
Thy victories won were all outdone 

By thy veracity. 


Edith — " What is your system for playing the races?" 
Jerrold — " Oh, I tell all my friends what horse to bet on ; 

then, if 

they seem to think my advice is worth taking, I bet on some other horse." 


^ A 

Mike — "Some Green Point oysters would go good about now, Casey." 
Casey — " Wat's de matter wid Blue Points?" 
Mike — "No, sir. This is Saint Patrick's day. Make them green, or I don't eat." 

The Earnest Reformer. 


VES, sir," said the earnest reformer, leaning over and 
shaking his long forefinger in the face of the una"p- 
preciative listener ; " I want to say to you that the great- 
est mistake in modern business life is 
the haste with which men eat their 
lunch. Now, I'll venture to say to you 
that you are a victim " 

" Excuse me," nUerrupted the other 
man, '• but I " 

" Now, just you wait a minute. What 
I was going to say wis for your own 
good. I can tell just by looking at you 
that you are one of these men who think 
they must hustle all the time, and" 

" But I wanted to say " 

" One minute more, if you please. 
And as a result you jump from your 
desk to the table and from the table 
back to your desk, and what is the effect? 
Doesn't it show as plam as day ? Now, 
I want to ask you, as a friend ot yours 
— of course, I " 

terrible to see the way our modern business men are rush- 
ing themselves into the grave. Now, promise me that you 
will adopt this plan of one hour for lunch." 

"No, sir; I will not promise you that." 

" You vion't ?" 

The earnest reformer sputtered and 
started as if he had been stung. 

" No, sir ; I won't. Allow me, sir, 
to give you one of my cards. I never 
eat any lunch, as you may see from it. ' 

And the earnest reformer spent the 
next half-hour studying an oblong piece 
of cardboard, which informed him that 
"James H. Nibbiker" was "president of 
the two-meals-a-day society. " 

The Unstumpable Poet. 

IVjO airy fancy now will come 

To start my little tumty-tum. 

" You are mistaken, sir. I " — — 

,.ivT I _ 1 • , 1 II I So where was Moses when the light 

"No, I am not mistaken. I know I ° 

, , , , , , , rr , " ^"' out ? And if I guess aright, 

dont know you from Adams off ox, but 

I am a friend of yours, the same as I am The people aU will loudly laugh 

a friend of all humanity, and what I Until they simply split in half. 

want to ask you is that hereafter you And quick I'll pocket, don't you know, 

will have some consideration for yourself The gilded shekels, joy aglow, 

and for your future, and allow yourself And dance more wildly than they'll bark fellow to possess ? 

a full hour for lunch. Why, man, it is Who read the answer— In the dark. Merritt — "A dictionary.' 

Source of His Wealth. 

[UEBUCH ADNEZZAR thoughtfully re- 
garded his meal of chaff. 

"When I get out of this, ' he re- 
marked, " I won't do a thing but put 
this stuff on the market as ' royal break- 
fast food.' " 

Humping himself, he continued his 
meal, while a gleam of speculation shone 
in his eye. 

Better than Riches. 

De Garry — " In making love to a 
Boston girl, what is the best thing for a 


The Wax and Wane of Alderman Swerdloff 

By Harriettc Wilbur 

^HE FIRST gong struck and the pupils 
began to file in. Lil<e all down-town 
districts, this school drew its enroll- 
ment from a neighborhood almost 
Tenderloin in its character. Witness 
the aggregation that filed in ! Fin- 
landers, Norwegians, Swedes, all 
very tow-headed, very blear-eyed, 
and very long-waisted ; French, 
Italians, PolacUs, and a smattering 
of Russian Jews, and a negro or 
two ! 

Miss Nichols, the new teacher, 
fresh from the well Anglicized 
schools of her own Iowa, gazed on 
this motley horde with inward 
shrinking. Horrors ! How could 
she ever endure the stolid, unkempt, 
shock-headed gang ? 
It certainly was a dubious outlook ; and, indeed, the 
first few days were discouraging. The few children who 
could speak English well were too bashful to do so, and 
the rest jabbered away to each other in their various lan- 
guages, oblivious to all Miss Nichols's shouts of command. 
She labored under that common delusion that in order to 
make a foreigner comprehend English the speaker needs 
to raise his voice and wave his arms in frantic gesticula- 
tions, and she fairly shouted herself voiceless and dislocat- 
ed joints in her efforts to bring order out of this babble of 

But in a few weeks the difficulties solved themselves, 
and everything was running smoothly. 

Then one day, while she was doing hall duty, the 
janitor gave her a little hint that all was not well with 
Jakey Swerdloff. 

Jakey had just come striding in with that pompous, 
pouter-pigeon strut of his that never failed to arouse Miss 
Nichols's secret amusement. It was a cold day, and 
Jakey, sniffing audibly, resembled a young locomotive as 
he glibly marched down the hall in a bee-line for the foot 
of the stairs, then swerved around a sharp corner visible 
only to himself, and bore down upon his own cloak-room 
in a course at right angles to his previous one. 

The janitor watched wee Jakey until the' child disap- 
peared with a flirtatious whisk of an extremely diminutive 
coat-tail. Then he gave a sidewise nod of his head Jakey- 

" I don't believe that boy 's all right," he asserted in 
tones of firm conviction. 

" Not all right ?" gasped Miss Nichols wonderingly. 
" No ; he ain't. Just look at his stomach — it looks like 
a fourth ward alderman's." 

Miss Nichols giggled. (She was yet young.) 
" So it does." she agreed, " but I think it's real cute the 
way it pouches out." 

" But it ain't natural. I never saw a young one like 
him before. I think he's got a tumor," persisted the 
janitor doggedly. 

Miss Nichols's eyes opened wide. 

" A tumor ? Why, I never heard of a child " she 


"Or worms, or something. Leastways, it ain't nat- 

From that day the fears thus aroused in Miss Nichols's 
mind regarding the health of young Jakey Swerdloff never 

She confided them to her principal, and the two wo- 
men talked it over, at first in confidential whispers, then 
covertly with the janitor, and then more freely in the pres- 
ence of their co-workers. 

They all began watching the alderman, as they nick- 
named Jakey, until the embryo gallant began to consider 
himself of great importance in the Webster school. 

Before the gong struck and the doors opened, Jakey 
had stoutly fought his way to the front to lead in the line. 
He came stamping up the stairs, puffed valiantly down 
the long hall at the head of a wavering line of urchins, 
sidetracked himself from the main line and cavorted briskly 
toward his own domains, all the time keeping an eye upon 
the sentinels that he might not lose any admiring glances 
— the vain little swain ! 

As colder weather came on. Alderman SwerdlofTs 
girth of body waxed even greater, and Jakey's well-being 
became an ever-fresh topic for discussion among the wo- 
men who had assumed the duties of in loco pare?ttis. 

From discussions they grew to quizzing Jakey (tactfully, 
of course) about the sensations of pain they imagined he 
must be suffering in martyr-like silence. 

•' Does it hurt you there when you sit dow^n .'" asked 
Miss Nichols, holding the alderman in the shelter of a pro- 
tecting, loving embrace, and gently punching his rotund 
proportions with a forefinger. 

" No, teacher." 

Miss Nichols glanced apprehensively at the principal, 
who hovered over Jakey with a sort of maternal solicitude. 

The principal nodded. 

" I suppose he doesn't understand you," she vouch- 

" Does it hurt you to run, Jakey ?" continued Miss 
Nichols, and she made a grimace intended to express ex- 
treme pain as she kept up the gentle prodding of Jakey's 
wee vest. 

" No, teacher." 

Both women exchanged a glance of pity and shook 
their heads deploringly. 

"It's just as hard as — as a bullet," whispered Miss 

" It's certainly growing," affirmed the principal. 

" Does it hurt you when you lie down ?' pursued the 
investigator, and she accompanied this question with a 


loll of her head to one side and a suddeji droop of her eye- 
lids as if simulating sleep. 
" No, teacher." 

The days grew shorter, but Jakey grew plumper ; Jack 
Frost stung the grass and flowers to death, but Jakey had 
not faded in the least ; the snow fell, but not so the pro- 
truding abdomen of the alderman. But, notwithstanding 
'his apparent vigor, to the eyes of his self-appointed guard- 
ians Jakey was in a critical state. His roly-poly stom- 
ach had now become so large that his chin almost rested 
on the distended front of his little blue sweater ; his short 
coat barely came together in front, the closing being now 
•efTected by a string spanning the distance between the 
button and button-hole — and this at the apparent danger 
of splitting down the back seam. His pouter-pigeon 
strut became an alderman-iike waddle ; he puffed and 
wheezed when he ran or exercised. " Rest position " — 
that of arms demurely folded in front — was a physical im- 
possibility for Jakey, and Miss Nichols, alter consulting 
with the principal, excused Jakey from the painful exer- 
cises : " Arms behind. Fold." " Lean forward. Lean." 
"To the floor. Squat.' And to console him, Jakey was 
allowed to sit up in front, and, proud as a lord, he watched 
proceedings and reported whoever, in his eyes, excelled in 
some certain "stunt." 

At last, one day shortly before Christmas, Jakey seemed 
more corpulent than ever, and the two women who had 
his well-being most at heart, sustained by a word of coun- 
sel from the observing janitor, braved the bitter-cold wind 
and accompanied Jakey home. 

They proposed to instruct Mrs. Svverdloflf in the duties 
she had been negligent in performing, even had their 
messages and warnings been understood as delivered by 
the offspring in question. 

Jakey waddled along in front as the trio pursued their 
way down St. Croix avenue. 

'■ Poor child " and •• Poor child," the two reiterated, as 
they watched the distorted seam in Jakey 's little jacket, 
and pondered the evident discomfort the Spartan sufferer 
was undergoing. 

•' His arms look as stiff as pokers" observed Miss 

•• Do you suppose they're swelled, too ? ' queried the 
gentle little principal in a panic of new fears. " I'm afraid 
it's dropsy." 

" He looks like a stuffed toad, or a boa-constrictor after 
a full meal," went on Miss Nichols, in a maternal solici- 
tude very touching to behold. 

Mrs. Swerdloff, a mountain of flesh and good nature, 
beamed upon them as Jakey proudly ushered them in. 

" So, so, Jakey 's teachers dey come. He say all times 
hees teachers look upon heem mit much luf." 

" Yes, Jakey is a very good boy," said Miss Nichols, 
paving the way for what was to come. 

" But is he well, Mrs. Swerdloff? " began the principal, 
fancying this a good time to broach the subject. 

"Veil? Yah, Jakey he been veil all times. Heem 
nefer seek. Yust see heem eat and den you say heem 
veil," laughed Mrs. Swerdloff. 

" Perhaps he eats loo much ?" said Miss Nichols. 

•• Just see how big he's getting," went on the principal, 
with a " never-give-up " air. 

Sne drew Jakey to her side and indicated the swelling 
in question with gentle prods of her gloved finger. 

Mrs. Swerdloff laughed. 

" Yah, heem peeg poy now," she agreed. 

" The ignorant woman !" muttered Miss Nichols, an- 
gered at this continued indifference. 

" Have you ever seen a doctor about him ? " she queried, 
tactfully controlling her rising indignation. 

" Nein. 'Ve no need see doctor ; Jakey all times ees 
veil — much veil." 

" No ; I'm sure he isn't," pursued both women in a 

" See," went on Miss Nichols. 

She knelt beside Jakey and began pomm.eling his pco- 
truding little chest from his chin to the hem of his woe- 
fully distended and shortened sweater. 

Mrs. Swerdloff laughed uneasily. 

" Oh, yah, heem got peeg pelly all times now. Heem 
alvay have peeg pelly een vinters. Yen somer comes he 
den have no peeg pelly." 

"Oh, don't risk waiting till summer," exclaimed Miss 
Nichols, in dismay. 

"See a doctor at once, Mrs. Swerdloff," fairly com- 
manded the mild little principal. 

" Oh, nein ; ve no need see doctor. Nettings ees 
trouble Jakey. Hees veil. He no haf peeg pelly ache 
nefer," and again Mrs. Swerdloff laughed that throaty, 
uneasy giggle of embarrassment. 

" I'm sure there is. \Vliy, I never saw a child so fat," 
insisted the principal in grim determination. 

" Why, he's swelled as hard as a drum," added Miss 
Nichols impulsively, and in an aside muttered, 

" She'd let him swell till he burst before she'd incur a 
doctor's bill. That's the way with foreigners." 

The principal gave Jakey a final poke. 

" Now, Mrs. Swerdloff, will you let me take Jakey to 
a doctor ? I'm certain he's get something growing there 
inside — a tumor, or a tapeworm, or something — and it's 
dangerous to wait. He gets bigger every day." 

" Nein. Jakey he pe all right ven somer come," 
reiterated Mrs. Swerdloff. 

" \Vhy, he'll be dead by that time if he lives till then," 
chimed in the impulsive Miss Nichols excitedly ; " he can't 
swell much more and — and not pop." she finished de- 
fiantly, not heeding the warning " sh " from the mild little 

Mrs. Swerdloff put her big hands on her fat hips and 
rocked from side to side in a hearty laughter she no longer 
sought to restrain. 

" Hees pelly ees svelled not," she said. 'Come here, 
Jakey, ve show em." 

While the two women looked on in amazement, Mrs. 
Swerdloff peeled the little sweater up under Jakey's arms 
until only his big black eyes and his thick shock of black 
hair showed above the roll of blue wool. A little plaid 
vest, tightly hooked down tlie front, was displayed to view. 
Mrs. Swerdloff tugged at the hooks and with subdued 
" pops " these fastenings gave way, and when the vest was 


laid back the astonished onlookers saw another .one, 
similarly fastened, of a nondescript green. 

Mrs. Swerdloff unfastened this, and, lo and behold ! a 
subdued pepper-and-salt garment was laid bare. This, 
however, was sewed on. Mrs. SwerdlofT began rippmg 
stitches, and with sonorous " cracks " they gave way to a 
glint of blue serge beneath. 

But a howl from the submerged Jakey broke in upon 
the ripping. 

" Ach, ach!" he wailed, "now I no haf peeg pelly 
more, and 1 no pe fat man." 

" Hush, Jakey," whispered his mother soothingly, and 
she smiled reassuringly as she looked up into tiie resentful 
black eyes peeping over the blue barracks. " \'cn de 
teachers pe gone I sew de wests all on' tul de varm somer 
he comes." 

By this time the two startled observers realized the 
secret of the alderman's make-up They looked at each 
other and were seized with a sudden wild longing to 

" Please, Mrs. Swerdloff," interposed the prmcipal 
"you needn't rip off any more. We — we understand." 

"Yah, yah," nodded Mrs. Swerdloff; " ve sew heem 
on for cold vinter ; dot geefs heem de peeg pelly all times 
vinters. " 

Once outside, the two scurried off. 

" Well, il 1 ever " began the principal, but the 

laugh would out, and she choked and gasped instead ef 
completing any remark she had to offer. 

But the versatile Miss Nichols was not so handicapped. 

" I — I wish we'd let her go on ripping. I'm curious to 
know just how many he had on," she gasped between 

But Jakey was never the same after. No more gentle 
prodtlings of interested forefingers; no more pitying glances 
from motherly eyes ; no more seats of honor during calis- 
thenic periods — he shared with the rest and shared alike. 

Foi; upon his return to a normal condition of health 
Jakey Swerdloff. alias the Alderman, was no longer an 
autocrat in Webster school. 



IzzY, JR. — "Fader, dot Irisher boy made for me a smash in der face. O-o-o — o-o-h !" 
Izzy, SR. — "Doii'tcher care, mein sohn. 'Vhen his fader comes in Monday mit his silfer vatch ti^ock I 
gif him dis veek feefty cents less." 

How To Write a Novel. 

The old and the new method. 


AKE a pound of gossip 

And an ounce of sense. 

Served with sauce salacious 

It shall seem immense. 

Epigrams a thousand. 

Culled from near and far ; 
Call it conversation — 

And then there you are ! 

Make a social setting — 

Quite unreal, of course ; 
Mingle much discussion 

On marriage and divorce. 
Risk the lady's virtue 

Far as is discreet ; 
Then yoiu" "problem novel" 's 

Very nigh complete. 

These are newer methods 

That have come to pasf 
Since the old magicians 

Took a lad and lass. 
\Yrought as nature found them, 

Told their joys and tears, 
That the world remembers 

Spite of all the years. 

.\h. the old magicians 

Wrought in simpler way. 
Yet their deathless manner 

Wakes our tears to-da\'. 
Tust some plain, sweet story 

Gushing from the heart, 
Yet the tale like marble 

Lives enduring art. 

Why these different methods ? — 

Why not try the old. 
If immortal stories 

In that way were told ? 
Here's the answer surely 

None may disavow — 
There are lots of craftsmen, 

No magicians, now ! 


A Barnyard Conversation. 

IT IS the opinion of eminent sociologists,' 

■Jt^-^^-*^ ' 


Jack — " Your friend, Miss Anteek. lost her • ruddy complexion ' 
on her first visit to the seashore, didn't she ?" 

May — " Yes ; but I'll warrant she got it back again on her first 
visit to the drug-store." 

said the 
philosophic gobbler, " that the tougher element of 
the country inevitably drifts toward the larger cities." 

" Yes," answered the up-to-date turkey-hen. "lover- 
heard one of the city boarders say this summer that it was 
strange the leathery, stringy turkeys always were sent to 
the cold-storage houses to be held for the Thanksgiving 

Professional Amenities. 

owj/A (the critic) — " You're a regular has been." 
ViHanelle (the poet) — " You're a regular never was." 


Cora — " Do you know the one thing tliat nearly ever)- 
girl gives up during Lent ?" 

Merritt — " The diary she started to keep at the begin- 
ning of the year. " 

What Did She Mean? 

^^ A KISS is an experiment," 

'• Said Mary with much merriment. 

The man stood by. 

Afraid to try — 
When that was just what Mary meant. 

Various Kinds of Shaving. 

" li/E HAD quite a lively debate at the school-house 
Saturday evening," remarked one populist. "We 
aim to discuss only questions of interest to the party ; but 
this was about the liveliest time we've had yet." 

" What was the question debated ?" inquired another 

" Last Saturday night the topic for consideration was, 
■ Resolved, that two barber-shops are worse than one na- 
tional bank.' " 

COME people in this country appear to be laboring under 
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p. 3 

The Show Girl 

By Edwyn Stanley 

|HE was fair, twenty, a little excited, and adora- 
bly sweet in her fetching tailor suit and smart 
toque as she fluttered up to the box-oflSce win- 
dow and deposited upon the shelf thereof her 

' purse, gloves, two books and a parcel, and 

hung her umlirella by its handle on one corner. The 
seller of tickets sighed with the slightest suggestion of re- 
signed martyrdom. He had seen much service behind 
the little barred windovs'. 

" Are you selling seats now for the — er — ' Mad Spar- 
tan ' ?" she asked with a positively stunning smile. 

"Get those at the Dreary Lane," replied the man, 
" where the ' Mad Spartan ' is now running." 

■ Oh, dear !" she pouted prettily ; " isn't this the Dreary 
L me ? I thought it was. It — isn't this Broadway and 
Fifty-first? No? Isn't that too provoking? Couldn't 
you sell me tickets for the ' Mad Spartan ' ? If Id only 
known that I shouldn't have gotten off the car. \Vhat is 
pla\ing here? The 'King of Kilkenny?' Is it good? 
Oh, of course you have to say so. So silly of me to ask. 
Weil, I'll not bother going up three more blocks now. 
Let me have two seats for to-morrow night. Why, I 
don't know — how much are the orchestra seats? Two 
dollars ? Oh, goodness ! that would be four for two — 
that IS, you sell two for four. I mean two seats for ibur 
dollars. Then I should prefer the balcony. Yes — if we 
can see the stage from there. Can we ? Mabel is near- 
sighted, poor thing ! Perhaps she would rather sit in the 
orchestra. This is her treat, but I don't know whether she'd 
like to pay four dollars — oh, is that the diagram of the 
balcony ? Isn't it a funny little thing. Do all those 
numbers represent seats ? Which is the front row ? 
That ? Why, I should think that side would be towards 
— well, you know, of course. I think I'll take those two. 
Fifty-three and fifty-five, aren't they ? Oh, no ! Fifty- 
seven and fifty-nine — those others are in the next row. 
They're taken ? For to-morrow night ? Isn't that too 
provoking ! Away back there ? One couldn't see at all 
from away off there. Could one? H'm — I ' on't know. 
On the aisle ? Oh, no ; not on the aisle. There's always 
a draught — isn't There ? Well, I suppose we shall have to 
take them. Are you sure that these are the right ones ? 
Three dollars ? Charge it. Oh, a/ //ij/ am I saying ! Good- 
ness! where is my /«rjir .? Dear me ! to be sure. How- 
stupid of me ! And I just put it there myself a moment 

\ pause ensued while the voung person searched the 
various compartments of her purse, and for her conven- 
ience placed upon the window-ledge a tiny, freshly-folded 
handkerchief, four hairpins, a glove-buttoner, a one-cent 
stamp, a two-cent stamp, three pearl buttons of various 
sizes, a cli.itelaine chain, a ring with setting missing, a 
bunch of keys, and, finally, a neatly-folded one-dollar bill. 
Meantime she had entertained the bo.x-office man as fol- 
lows ; 

Isn't that too provoking ? I just know I put those bills 
in my purse at Racy's — of all the sillies ! I had forgotten 
all about that dressing-gown I bought for L'ncle Judson's 
birthday. I'll find it in just a second. My, but you do 
lots of business, don't you ? Are all these behind me 
going to bu_y tickets ? What is it ? If they ever get a 
chance ? I don't understand. Oh, that is unkind. I'ni 
sure I haven't been here a moment. Well, ot all things ! 
I'm sure you'll think me quite stupid, but — no ? I have 
only one dollar in change with me. Could I ? Two for 
a dollar ? Second balcon — why, that's the gallery, isn't 
it ? No, no, no ; that is positively absurd. I suppose I — 
could you ? And they would be held until half-after seven ? 
Very well, I'll just— oh, goodness ! these tickets say 
Thursday ! Is to-mcrroiv Thursday ? Why, I m to go 
to West Point on Thursday. Of course I can't take them 
now. Thank you, so mucli. Perhaps I could go Satur- 
dav matinee. My umbrella ? Oh, thank you. You'll 
think me stupid for — no ? Do these cars transfer to Mad- 
ison avenue ? Don't thev ? Isn't that too provoking ! 
Thank vou again for explaining about West Point — I 
mean Thursday. " 

She gone. A delicate hint of violets lingered 
over the line of sixty-seven people by the window. 

Rara Avis. 

/^IVE nie the man who loves old books, 
'-' Old clothes, old wine, and dusty nooks 

In some quaint shop where, hid away. 

Forgotten, lost since Louis's day. 
Dim treasures hang on rusty hooks. 

Give me that man whose only need 
A pipe to smoke, a book to read ; 

Who loafs a summer afternoon, 

Transported by a linnet's tune 
From this gray world of cant and creed. 

Give me that man who hates the mien 
And prattle of a philistine ; 

Who loves old friends' companionship 

And Cyntherea's laugh and lip. 
Yet holds his muse liis only queen. 


The Football Craze. 

THE old woman who lived in a shoe explained, " I thought 
it would be a fine place to bring up football players," 
she remarked. 

Calling the little darlings arounil her, they practiced 
the latest kick. 

The Dyer's Hand. 

Brittles (who collects things) — "He's the only one of 
that family that can tell the truth." 

Mrs. Brittles — "Well, it's a good thing one of them 

Brittles — " Oh, I don't know. It spoils the set." 





























/ -■ ' / 


The Wail of a Poet 

By Pcrkin Warbeck 

T IS commonly known that the life ol 
the true poet is essentially a sad one. 
But It never occurs to the great, un- 
sympathetic public to ask why this is 
so. While not an out-and-out poet 
myself, I have worked at it enough to 
be able to treat this subject in such a 
way that the public will open its eyes 
with astonishment. Why should the 
millionaire, in spite of his indigestion, 
be happy, while the poet, with a per- 
fectly healthy stomach, lives in the 
twilight gloom of the weltschmertz ? 
(I introduce this German word be- 
cause it is the only one we authors 
have to designate the sadness of the 
poet. Literally it means world-pain. 
Common people have various aches, 
but the poet, when he gets a pain, 
calls It a world-pain, to show how 
much more terrible it is than any ordinary stomach- 

The big litterateurs like Howells and Stedman are 
crying for more poets. They say it is the disgrace of a dol- 
lar-chasing, hog-raising age that there is so little poetry, 
and yet what do we see ? When I have dashed off a few 
little things of my own to take the curse off the age, have 
they come forward and taken me by the hand and wept 
hot tears of joy down my shirt front ? They ha\e not. 
I do not wish to cast any reflections. I merely emphasize 
the statement in passing that they have not done so. The 
public is at liberty to draw its own conclusions. 

Here, then, is the first woe of the true poet. With the 
shyness of a brand-new pa the first morning after, he 
shoots his anonymous thought-child into the air, expecting 
it to fall to earth, he knows not where, and it doesn't. 
On the contrary, he knows just exactly where it falls to 
earth, for it comes right back as quick as Uncle Sam's 
mail can bring it. This fills the poet with a vast world- 
pain and makes him excessively tired. Last Christmas I 
lelt rather happy as the joy-season drew near, and clashed 
off a sweet, happy little thing, just to please the children 
of this broad land, and sent it off to a big magazine, and 
it came back with a note saying that I ought to have sent 
my Christmas poem in last February, and that they were 
then putting together their next August number. If I 
had some good bathing-suit jokes for hot weather, it said, 
I had better hurry them over. Now, what kind of a way 
is that ? When the poets are tingling with Christmas 
cheer tliey are expected to be at their seashore poems, 
and when they are just over with Christmas and trying to 
stave off bankruptcy they are expected to be writing their 
next Christmas stuff. This also causes the poet to feel a 
great inward weariness. 

Then, see how poetry is all the time changing. You 

study up on the class of rnyme that seems to fill a long-felt 
want, and when you get so you can do it in good shape — 
that is, turn it. out in marketable quantities, so that the 
returns will pay a dividend on the investment, cover wear 
and tear and provide a sinking-fund — you hnd there is no 
longer the want you had figured on, and the goods are 
left on your hands. Take Longfellow's lines : 

Life is real, life is earnest, 

At least that's the way it seems 

To me. However, everybody has 
A perfect right to his own idea. 

Would that kind of stuff meet with a popular demand 
to-day? I trow not. Look at the " Sweet singer of Mich- 
igan," whose tender melodies made life different in that 
section of the country back in the 'eighties. .She wrote : 

My heart was gay and happy, 

This was ever in my mind, 
There is better days a-coming, 

And I hope some day to find 
Myself capable of composing. 

It was my lieart's delight 
To compose on a sentimental subject. 

If it came in my mind just right. 

Is that what the public is sitting up nights waiting for 
at this juncture in the world's history ? I cannot bring 
myself to believe so. What has become of the J. Gordan 
Coogler style of rhythmic thought-wave ? Once all the 
vogue, who would attempt to sell the same kind of matter 
to the magazines now ? Yet the South Carolina singer 
was there with the goods less than a dozen years ago. 
Listen to this : 

Alas ! for the South : 

Her books have grown fewer — 

She never was much given 
To literature. 

And this : 

Sweet girl, I like to see you look 

The very best you can ; 
But, please, do not try so soon 

To imitate a man. 

You are not masculine or neuter — 

Neither of those genders ; 
Therefore, I advise you to 

Pull off those suspenders. 

Now, I had got so that I could turn out that kind in 
paying quantities, and had several tons ready to throw on 
the market, when along came another sweeping change 
in the magazine style. I sent this (cribbed it; we poets 
feel at liberty to take anything we like from each other — 
another reason why we are sad) : 

They stood on the bridge at midnight 

In a park not far from town ; 

They stood on the bridge at midnight 

Because they didn't sit down. 

^ ^ ( 

How often, oil, how often, 

They whispered words so soft — 
How often, oh, how often. 
How often, oh, how oft ! 
The great magazine editor sent it back at once, saying 
that the cut, style, finish, weave, texture, dovetailing, 
sand-papering, the entire vortex, maelstrom and night- 
mare of their poetry department had been changed, and 
that henceforth a poem that could be understood at one 
reading by a master of seven languages with a brain like 
_a seed-squash could not be accepted. Prices, he added, 
had been cut one-half to curtail expenses in the shipping 
department. •• I inclose a sample," he wrote in conclu- 
sion, " which you will please toUow on all future orders 
until further notice. Here is the sample : 

" Tool, machine, tissued, sexed. 

Exquisitely interplexed. 

Gemmuled, force-form beauty-waked, 

Breath-fired motor reason-braked. 
" Verge or core, heart or brain. 

The mechanic beat is plain ; 

Mental taction open springs, 

Involitioned, prior things. 
" Record-celled counterfoils 

Which from convoluted coils, 

Fixedly recurrent flash 

At association's clash. 
" Vascular, afferent. • 

Efferent, contractile, blent 

Processes where impulse sways 

Inmost ganglions of the maze 
" Which receive, store, transmit. 

Reflex-mandate-active sit. 

Ceaselessly — what craftsmanship's 

Richlier noble to eclipse?" 

Now, wouldn't that jar you ? Wouldn't it make you 
mad, dear public, if you were a true poet ? That poem is 
by Godfrey Egremont, and we poets with the simple style 
of brain with two lobes are asked to compete with him, 
when I venture to say that his brain is exquisitely inter- 
plexed and at least twenty-lour stories high, a regular 
skyscraper brain. 

Finally, see what we poets get lor our pieces. When 
I took charge of a paper a while ago, and before I got 
acquainted with the local customs, two colored women 
came in one morning when I was very busy and asked 
me what it would cost to run a little obituary poem. 
They said it was only four lines, and I said I guessed we 
could take it at the same rate as a want ad. " Where is 
it ?" I asked hastily, but not unkindly. " Why, we 
thought you would write it for us," they said. And there 
I had given them a want-ad. rate ! 

1 consulted with my foreman, who had been there all 
his life, and he said it was all right. They had always 
had their obituary poems written at the office. Just 
throw together anything that will rhyme and it will be 
satisfactory, he told me. I went down stairs and asked 
for particulars, which seemed to surprise them. They 
finally said il was an uncle. I wrote : 
•• Dear uncle, you have left us, 

We shall never see you more. 
Indeed, you have bereft us 

And we shall miss you evermore." 

They looked it over and seemed disappointed. Then 
one of them said, " He died fourteen years ago." I had 
to see the loreman again. " Sure ' said he ; " it's a me- 
morial-poem custom here. So I tried it again : 

" Dear uncle, fourteen years ago 
It is now since you died. 
Indeed the years they travel so 
Since our dear uncle died." 

They looked it over dubiously and handed it back. 
" Don't it suit you ?" I inquired. " I guess it will do," 
replied one of them hesitatingly ; " but it don't seem like 
the ones we've had here belore." I tried again : 
" Uncle, dear, we miss you ; 

It's been so long, you know, 
Since we have seen our uncle 
Who died so long ago." 

And that didn't suit them ! " Can't you szf that we 
still remember him ?' they suggested ; " for he used to 
say he'd bet a quarter we'd forget him in a month." Now 
I saw their idea. Not grief, but a wager, as it were 
Now it was plain sailing : 

" Uncle, dear, it's fourteen year 

Since you were gathered hence. 
To show that you're remembered here 
This poem cost twenty-hve cents." 

I thought I had them sure, but I was mistaken. That'a 
what they meant, but they didn't want to say it right out. 
I tried again : 

" Dear uncle, we have lost you. 

Fourteen years ago you went. 
But we are always going to remember you 
So long as we have a cent." 

Then I saw that this was an order that was beyond 
me and I went up stairs to the foreman again. " You say 
you have done this belore ; for heaven's sake give these 
people what they want. " The foreman and ad. -setter 
wrote promptly : 

" Oh, uncle dear, the hills are green. 
The grass, it makes them so. 
While you are happy where you are 
We are, too, here below." 
And that went. And the office got the quarter. 

The Subsequent Action. 

The widow (over the back fence) — " So you was over 
to AUegash yisterd'y ? Any news there ?" 

The clam-peddler — " Wa-al, Lucy Ann Pine — you know 
her, I guess — was settin' alone in the dark, one evenin' 
about two weeks ago, when a strange man slipped into- 
the house an' grabbed her an' forcibly kissed her." , 

The widow — " I want to know !" / 

The clam-peddler — " Yes'm ; and they do say mat she 
ain't had a light in the house sence." 

Reunion at the Pole. 

Jones — "Smith seems fearfully slow iA starting out 
with his north-pole expedition. It's a ra^er peculiar cir- 
cumstance all around." 

iSroa/M — " Yes ? How so ?" 
Janes—" Why, the relief expediflon has already been 
> gone nearly two weeks." 





I. RoDlE [the piper) — " The kilts mak ye young again. WuUy ; 
but ye dinna leap so spry as ye once did." 

Dismal Outlook. 
«ili/ISH you a happy new year," says the visitor, riding 
up to the home of the Kentucky mountaineer. 

" Thanks fo' yo' kind wishes, suli ; but liit looks 
almighty bad fo' me this coniin' yeah." 

" Now, I'm sorry to hear that. What seems to be the 
trouble ?" 

" Well, suh, 'long last spring me an' 'Lije Bingo hap- 
pened to have a I'allin' out ovah a couple o' hawgs ; so we 
done had a time all sence then, shootin' at each otheh 
f um time to time." 

"Oh, I shouldn't be cast down over that. Even if you 
have a feud, it can be ended. There's no reason why" 

" That's jest it, podneh ; that's jest it. 'Lije fell oflTen 
the side o' the mountain yestiddy, an' now I've 
got no feud at all." 

Just Reached Easy Street. 

Mrs. Jonesvnth — " I've just been over to 
see Uncle Jerseyman. He's just past his one 
hundred and fourth birthday." 

Jonesmiih — " I'd hate to get that old un- 
less I had plenty of property to live on. At 
that age a man is too old to work, and " 

Mrs. Jonesmith — ■' Oh, Uncle Jerseyinan 
says he has a splendidly-paying job writing 
testin^onials for three different patent-medicine 

The Reason. 

Mrs. Performing-Seal (at the inuseum) — 
" Seely, I dor.'t want you to associate with 
those Trick-Dogs at all." 

Seely — " Why, mamma ?" 

Mrs. Performing-Seal — " Because, my dear, 
they are low. See w'.iat abominable taste they 
display in choosing thtir furs." 

Her Thought. 

C'AID Prissy Ann, •■ I try to be 
•^ A very careful child and learn 
From day to day what's g<x)d for me — 
For knowledge I just yearn and yearn. 

" To-day, for instance, I have read 

'You can't believe half that you hear,' 

Which put the thought into my head. 

' Then we should listen with one ear.' " 


A Diplomat. 

THE young man who calls on Thanksgiving even- 
ing brings a sprig of mistletoe with him and at- 
taches it to the chandelier. Later in the evening 
he lures the fair <lamsel beneath it and kisses her. 
In reply to her shocked expression he points to the 

" But," she argues, " mistletoe doesn't have any- 
thing to do with the case until Christmas." 

"This," he e.xplains with the ponderous logic 
of a statesmen— for he has served two terms in the 
legislature — " this is retroactive mistletoe." 

Owing to the press of business, they then went 
into executive session. 

Wonders of Mechanics. 

«« AND what is this inassive machine ?" we ask ot the 
superintendent of the paper-mill. 
" That ?" he asks, stopping to lay his hand knowingly 
upon one or two valves. " That is the machine that turns ' 
out the genuine hand-made paper we make a specialty ot." 

A Last Resort. 

Client — "According to your showing, ijoth the law 
and the facts are clearly against us ?" 

Attorney — " Yes ; I shall be obliged to weep copiously 
before the jury." 

2. Jean — "Thot'll be mended, Roddie, when the bumble-bees warms 
him oop." 

<J^^ > 

o > 

I I 

o w 







The Happy Little Dog. 

1AM the little yellow dog that's happy all the day. 
When I'm asleep beneath the stove or with the cat at play. 
Yes, I am happy through and through, and to the very brim. 
When up and down the stairs and round the house I gayly skim. 

I'm happy when I'm sitting up a piece of cake to scoop ; 
I'm happy when I lun to them that for me fondly whoop. 
I have a home, and that is why I'm always on the grin, 
Which means I'll never romp and bark witliin a sausage-skin. 

An Unsatisfactory Assurance. 

He — " There seems to be quite a coolness between them." 

She — "Oh, yes. He told her she was the only girl he ever loved platonicaUy." 

Melon Days in Georgy. 

/~*REAT times down in Georgy, 
^*-* Liviii moughty fine, 
Bustin' watahmilyuns 
F'um de milyun vine. 

Lif a big-stripe milyun. 
Squash it on de groun' ; 

Bite um in de middle 

When nobody 's roun'. 

Squat down in a comer 
Ob an ole rail fence ; 

Shut yo'r eyes an' slumber 
Twel yo' got no sense. 

Den wake up right hungry. 
Go an' eat some mo' ; 

Tek 'em as yo' find 'em 
On bofe sides de row. 

What's de use ob wukin* 
Enny time ob day 

When de milyun 's gro«'in' 
Right dar in yo'r way ? 

When summer shines 
And winter whines 

She is Ihe peachy pearl 
That makes me whizz 
With joy — she is 

My all-the-year-round girl. 

A New Definition. 

New reporter — " But 
I thought you required 
accuracy above all 

City editor— "Oi 
course we do ; but ac- 
curacy, as we understand 
it, consists in making the 
news fit the policy of the 


Got an Idea. 

A HI" »aid the visiting Russian as the pleasure-yacht 
scudded near the shore and he saw the crowds of 
merry-makers sporting in the water. •• What do you call 
that ?" 

•• That," said his host, " is one of our great American 
pastimes — surf bathing." 

" Serf bathing ? It is something needed in my country. 
I shall make a note of it." 

The Poet's Provender. 

MY heart is joyous in the dining-hall. 
Whene'er, at noon, the smiling l)oarding-ma'am 
Displays beside tlie dulcet frittered clam 
Tlie still, calm beauty of the cod-fish ball. 
And then the chicken of the spring is all 
My fancy paints— e'en to the juicy ham 
inibroidered with belated eggs I am 
Quite [artial, for it holds the muse in thrall. 
Welsh rabbit makes me mad as a Marcli hare. 
For oft when I affect it some one dies 

And 'm disposed to pen the threne — or monody. 
But. ah ! Nig It brings along her dreadful mare. 
Then poesy 'ncontinently flies. 

"""he muse-von't work — she simply has strephonody. 



Josh Chuckleweight — "Well, how'd ye come out with yer 
summer boarders ?" 

Henry — "Oh. purty fair. Mother wuz laid up three 
months from waitin' on thet dude ; an' thet oldest son went out 
huntin' an' shot our Holstein heifer ; an' them brat twins burned 
up the corn-crib ; but when Lizzie goes to the city they promised 
to take her fer a ride in their aut^■mobiIe." 


A Story with the Conversation Cut Out 

By D. M. Reynolds 

" ," I objected as the butler, after 

taking my hat and coat, stood aside to let me pass into 
the drawing-room, and thus it was that we compromised 
on the librar)-. 

I found the easiest chair, lit a cigarette and possessed 
my soul with patience. Incidentally I expressed my 
opinion of Mrs. Bob's Wednesdays and some one laughed. 
Then I blew one last artistic smoke ring at the Bobs' latest 
atrocity in heathen gods and started on a tour of investi- 
gation. In the ingle nook, nothing ; in the den, nothing ; 
behind the curtains of the deep-bowed windows, Marjorie 
and a French novel. The mutual surprise of the discov- 
ery complete, she rose and greeted me with a smile. 

I bowed gravely and took the empty end of the window 

" ," she remarked impersonally. 

'• ," I replied crossly. An " at 

home " was always my pet abomination, and then, inquisi- 
tively, " ?" French novels are not commonly in 

the hands of those entertaining. 

" ," said she, resignedly, closing the book. 

But I had no desire to be entertained, su I smoked in 
my corner while she settled herself behind the tea table. 

•• ?" she questioned, waving the cream 

jug. I despised cream and she knew it. 

" ," said I, pointing a suggestive finger at the 


" ," dictatorially, so we compromised on lemon. 

Ensued a silence, while I looked at Marjorie over my 
cup and she looked out at the window. 

" ," she suggested conversationally. 

I nodded, drank my tea in silence, watching the fire- 
light play upon the dark masses of her hair, touching 
them with occasional flashes of ruddy gold. 

From across the hall came the melody of pulsating vio- 
lins, pregnant with rich unknown harmonies. Pensive, 
we turned to the ingle nook. 

•' ," I said softly, moving nearer. 


between us. 

," I whispered, still closer. 

-," she defended, methodically piling pillows 

," I objected, and getting no answer. 

began pulling the defenses to pieces. 

The last pillow slipped to the floor. 
" — ?" I pleaded. 

Marjorie leaned forward and began to stir the fire, and ■ 
I found it necessary to gently but firmly remove the tongs. 

," she protested. 

— ," passionately. 

," she replied, struggling. 

The door opened and Mrs. Bob stood on the threshold. 

" ," said Marjorie. greeting her aunt. 

" ," I added, looking up from the 

fire, which I had been punching vigorously— an occupa- 

tion that always lends color to my somewhat sallow com- 

Mrs. Bob glared. 

Marjorie busied herself again with the tea things. 

I wished I had not come. 

■• ," said Marjorie lightly. 


■' ," I ventured, looking at the storm- 
clouds outside. 

Mrs. Bob was not to be appeased. 

" ," laughed Marjorie, as I rose to go, and then, 

as she gave me her hand, whispered, " . " 

Mrs. Bob bowed icily. 

" ," I called from the doorway. 

And so I left them, Marjorie smiling, Mrs. Bob perched 
upon the high hobby of her dignity. 

" ," said I softly, and James the imper- 
turbable smiled as he helped me into my coat. 

How It Is Done. 

JU R. BOBSTAY FLUKE, the emfnent yachting authority, 
sat at his typewriter, dashing off his opinion on the 
first day's race for the Daily Streakoyeller. At his elbow 
sat his faithful assistant, holding a dictionar)- of marine 

" At the end of the first leg," wrote Mr. Fluke, " the 

Reliance tried her new " Pausing, he turned to his 

assistant. " Turn the pages, Bill," he ordered. " Find 
the name of some hitherto unused form of rigging. The 
words you have dug out so far have been common ones. 
I want something unfamiliar — something that will demon- 
strate my excellent knowledge of nautical affairs. ' At 
the end of the first leg the reliance tried her new ' " 

" Here's the word !" cried the assistant jubilantly — 
" ' Shoes ' !" 

Complete Reparation. 

(( DUT your Harry broke my window, I tell you t" Mrs. 
Bellirgham persisted. 
" No, Mis. Bellingham ; he didn't," declared Mrs, Gul- 
dings. " He not only told me that he didn't do it, but he 
promised njver to do it again." 

Madge — " The men have changed about giving u' 
their sea .s in the cars." 
j^m^Bti? — " Perhaps it is you that has changed." 

Mi — 

ff^^ff^T the lighthouse that keeps us off the rj) 

in that keeps its lamp lit. It ain't thf 
tJSe vfeie that makes home happy ; it's the> 
tMe character of the women's clubs she don'i 
■> Once, livhen I was ashore, I was mighty , 
ileath by a wicked horse I run across. 
Jaugbed at me. He was fourteen hi/ 
time| smaller'n I was, but that gee-ger^ ^^ "'^^"^^ ' 
I bit^ 

1/ is a fake." 

Welsh r 
For oi 

But. ah ! Nil 
Then poes. 
The mus 


5 ■?? 

Q - 3 


■7.V ^ 

New arrival {Dawson cily) — " You seem the only happy man in the town.' 
Native — " I am, sir. I've got dyspepsia so bad I can't eat anything." 


Advertising was his hobby ; he represented a patent-medi- 
cine concern. 

That particular evening he drifted into the hotel in a con- 
dition of aggravated high lonesomeness, staggered up to the 
functionary in command and indicated a desire to be shel- 

" Any choice of rooms .'" inquired the clerk, with a view to 
comforting his woozy guest. 


Countryman — "Clear out! You cheated me like the 
nischief the last time you was here." 

Jacobs — "Veil, dem'sdergusdomers I don'd like to lose, 
so I calls again." 

The promoter of testimonial publicity coveted a good room, 
but his professional vocabulary was the only one at command, 
and he murmured : 

"Lemma have top col'm nex' pure readin '-matter ; pure 
readin' on bo' shides; pure readin' above ; pure readin' fol- 
lowin'on local page; four locals san'wished 'mong pershn'ls," 
he went on, " an' gimme lowesh rates minush agensh c'mish'n." 

He got a room on the top floor, facing the skylight shaft. 

First kid — " I tell you that india-rubber iii^ 
Second kid — " What do you mean 1" ' 

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A M ' 


'Liza — " Gracious. Lemme ! what is it?" 

Lem — "One o' them consarned earthquicks. Can't yer see the very ground 
yawnin' beneath our feet, b' gosh ?" 

pocket handy, and, unloading his 
mouth to make an outlet for his 
mind, he began, 

" I have also noticed that faint- 
hearted chauffeur never won fair 
lady, and that as ye sew so shall ye 
rip, and that the way of the trans- 
gressor is hard to get onto, and 
that it is a poor mule that won't 
kick both ways, and that the people 
who cast their bread upon the 
waters throw it up stream, and 
that the windy bloweth when you 
listeth. And I know that if all the 
world 's a stage Morgan must be 
the manager, and that if honesty 
is the only policy there are lots of 
people without insurance, and that 
you should look before you marry, 
and that it is more blessed to get 
rid of some things than to receive ; 
and I have come to the conclusion 
that a man may smile and smile 
and be married, and that if man 's 
a flower boys must be sunflowers, 
and that there is nothing in a 
name except your wife's, and that 
we never miss the dairy-milk till 
the well runs dry, and that a fish 
in the hand is w-orth two fish-sto- 
ries, and that if all the world loves 
a lover it is through pity, and that 
some men are born famous, some 
achieve fame, and some pass pure- 
food bills." 

After discharging these pellets 
of wisdom at a rapid-fire-gun rate, 
and taking a parting shot at the 
coal-bucket, he slid down off the 
counter and said, 

" Well, I must go home and 
chop some wood for my wife to get 
supper with, as she said she had 
some dried apples to cook." 

Homer Crov. 

Apple-barrel Philosophy. 

44 T HAVE noticed," said the corner-store loafer, seating 
himself on the counter in reach of the dried-apple 
barrel and depositing a liberal supply ol tobacco-juice in 
the coal-bucket ; " I have noticed women cry over spilt 
milk when they ought to be thankful it wasn't the grease, 
and that a married man and his hair are soon parted, and 
that monev makes the mare go, and horse-tacing makes 
the money go, and that while ignorance is bliss it's a blis- 
ter to be wise, and that all signs fail in dry weather, 
'specially fresh-paint ones, and that there are two sides 
to every question — your wife's and the other side." 

Having filled one pocket, the loafing philosopher 
moved to the other side of the barrel to have the empty 

A Flight of Fancy. 

TT could only have been an iridescent dream — it must 
■*• have been — and yet it was so lovely that one would 
fain have had it real. I heard somehow, somewhere — 
perhaps I read it, for I have read many strange things in ^ 
my long life — of a policeman being punished for " talkir 
back " to a civilian ; or was it merely a heartless tricky 
fancy ? 


No Intermission. 

Afrs. Wheeler — "Whatever else his faults, \y 
but say that Elsie's young man is constant." / , v,- i. 

.1/r. fr7i<v/.-r—"' Constant'? Humph! I fi^^'' ♦'^"^ 
' continuous ' expressed it better." 

Old gentleman — " What has been the cause of your downfall ?" 
Tramp — "Well, yer see, I used ter be a music-teaclier ; but I've bin out uv work 
ever since dey had dese here autermatic pianner-players." 

How Bounceby Woke Up. 

IJiY friend Bouncel)y is a very nervous man and his ner- 
vousness is increasing to such a degree that he is a 
constant source of amusement at Mrs. Ginter's boarding- 

The other day it became absolutely necessary for him 
to wake ap as early as five-thirty the following morning, 
in order to catch the si.\-o'clock train for Chicago, where 
he had an important engagement. Now, six-thirty is 
Bo'mceby's rising hour, to which he adheres with bach- 
elor regularity ; therefore he came home from the office 
with an alarm-clock under his arm — his first alarm-clock. 
Bounceby wound it up, set it, and placed it on a table at 
the head of his bed. 

" Now," said he to himself, " I can sleep in peace. I 

can let that machine do my worrying about catching that 

train. What a great thing is this modern inventiveness !" 

But, alas ! it was one of those loud-ticking alarm-clocks 

— the sixty-nine-cent kind. " Tick, tock ! tick, took ! " — it 

beat a villainous tattoo on Bounceby 's tympanums. He 

overed his head with the bed-clothes, but sheets and 

inkets were transparent to the imperious noise. He 

J, -ed a pillow, with the imminent risk of suffocation. 

" tick, tick ! tickety, tock ! " His hearing was tense, 

sounded as loud as ever. 

ce'jy got up, turned on the electricity, found some 

, ' ^d stuffed it in his ears. Over the cotton he drew 

^ "'"uhes, and on the latter he placed the pillow. 

All in vain. The sharp iteration 
was merely changed to a heavy 
thump, thump, thumpety, thump. It 
was more maddening than before. 

He stood it for ten minutes or 
so, growing hotter all the time, 
physically and mentally ; then he 
flung oflT the coverings, sat up in 
bed, and glowered in the dark at 
the centre of disturbance. The 
clock was in no wise abashed, but 
liammered away industriously. 

Bounceby bethought himself of 
his sweater, got up again, and 
wrapped the clock in it. He re- 
turned to his couch and noted with 
satisfaction a marked diminution of 

" That's the ticket," said Bounce- 
by, ensconcing himself again be- 
neath sheets, blankets and pillows, 
not forgetting the cotton in his 

" Ti-ti-tick-toc-k !" It was feeble, 
but it was still there ; and to 
Bounceby's excited apprehension 
the buzz of a gnat was equal to the 
thunder of an express train. 

"I'll forget it," said he, "and 
go to sleep like a sensible man." 
But the more he tried to go to 
sleep the more he didn't. •• This 
must be stopped !" the sufferer 
cried with conviction. He did not 
refer to the clock, but to the situa- 

There was a tru»k in his closet. 
Bounceby carried thither the sweat- 
er-swathed timepiece, placed it in the trunk, put down 
the lid, shut the door, and went back to bed. To 
his great relief, he found that not a sound was audible. 
He composed himself, with a sigh, for his postponed 

But a disquieting thought seized the luckless man. 
Had he overdone the matter ? Would he hear the alarm 
now when it went off.'' Evidently he must test it on that 
point, or he could have no rest. So Bounceby rose once 
more, turned the hands till the alarm started, hastily 
thrust the clock into the trunk, shut trunk-lid and door, 
and, scurrying back to bed, got the pillow over his head 
before the clatter was ended. To his entire satisfaction, 
he found it sufficiently audible even beneath the pillow. 
He therefore set the clock to the correct time, wrapped it 
in the sweater, placed the bundle in the trunk, shut the 
litl, closed the door, and retired finally to his couch, where 
he slept the sleep ot the prutlent. 

At si.\-thirty the next morning Bounceby woke from 
slumber and with wild eyes perceived the daylight, and 
realized that his train was well on its w-ay. A bound took 
him to the closet-door. A jerk, and the faithless clock 
was in his hand, still ticking away for dear life. Bounceby 
was about to dash it on the floor when a sudden thought 
brought a silly expression to his stern countenance, and he 
set the timepiece quietly down. 

He had forgotten, after his little experiment, to wind 
up the striking part again. amos r. wells. 

£-'\B ( 

A Fairy Tale Up to Date 

By S. K. Sdig 

NCE upon a time there lived a king who 
ruled a vast country and had a swell bank 
account. He fell in love with a beautiful 
young princess in a neighboring country, 
who saw that he was young and handsome 
and did not smoke cigarettes; so she listed 
to his wooing and stood for his making 
goo-goo eyes. Now, this young king was 
handy amongst the women and considera- 
bly of a winner, for he had been something 
of a rounder in his day and knew liow to 
win the ladies. So he bought her choco- 
^ i^ i late drops and took her to theatre on Sat- 
1 f\ f urday nights, and so won the heart of this 
young thing. Then it came to pass that 
there was a great wedding in the kingdom, 
and all the big guns and big gunesses 
came for the dance and to get in on the feed. Amid a 
shower of rice he placed his blushing bride in his automo- 
bile and carried her away to his own country, and they 
were a very loving couple. All the neighbors who lived 
in the flats around the castle remarked what a model hus- 
band the young king made, and for three years he did 
the square thing. 

But when the queen's mother came to see them for a 
short visit of six months he fell into evil ways and got into 
the vicious habit of going out at nights and stunting 
around. The king's mother-in-law was a wise gazzabo, 
and wished to tip the queen off that her handsome king 
was straying from the straight and narrow path ; but the 
queen would not hearken. 

It so happened that the king's chamberlain had em- 
ployed as typewriter a beautiful young female with mo- 
lasses-candy hair, who wore straight fronts and had the 
kangaroo walk. This little piece of bric-k-brac was a 
witch, and as soon as the good king saw her he immedi- 
ately fell under her spell and proceeded to make an ass of 
himself. He fell to dictating all state correspondence, for 
he was a good king and wished to reduce the expense of 
running the government. He became such an earnest 
worker that he neglected his wife and babies in the press 
of his official business. In short, he became a most enthu- 
siastic, polished and happy liar, and he dined night after 
night with his pretty little gazelle of a typewriter ; where- 
upon they painted things a crimson hue and cut up high 
jinks in general. 

Now, although we know the queen was an innocent 
young thing, and not up to the notch about some things 
in this wicked world, she began to champ her bit and 
stand on her hind legs when the king would come down 
the home-stretch at four o'clock in the morning. So she 
went to a fair)-, who lived around the block, to discover 
why it was the king would not spend his evenings with 
his lawful wife and on his own happy hunting-grounds. 
The fairv muttered some rubbish, waved her magic 

wand and said, " Hokus pokus !" Instantly the queen saw 
the king making happy 'round the festive board and tank- 
ing up Anheuser-Busch with the typewriter. She nearly 
had a hemorrhage, and wished to butt right in and mix it 
up at once, but the fairy restrained her. 

The next day the queen walked forth from the castle 
dressed in her glad rags and hanging on the arm of a 
courtier, who would make Sir Walter Raleigh and the rest 
of that bunch look like a pound of soap after a hard day's 
washing. This gay dog had a reputation throughout the 
kingdom of being a breaker-up of happy homes, and a jiu- 
jitsu artist with female hearts. The fairy must have 
waved her magic wand again, for the queen's hair sud- 
denly turned to a brilliant yellow. She also began to 
wear french heels and draw her skirts tight when she 

When gossip about his beauteous queen reached the 
king's ears, his jealousy was so great that it came out on 
him in spots. He foamed at the mouth, rolled his eyes in 
his head and gasped for breath, which are three infallible 
signs of a jealous disposition. Official business was sud- 
denly forgotten, and charges for high-bails, broiled lob- 
sters and diamond rings no more appeared in the king's 
expense account. He began to sit by his own hreside, 
rock the babies and sing " Home, sweet home." 

When his queen would come home late and he would 
ask her where she had been she would laugh, show her 
gold tooth and look wise. Then she would light a ciga- 
rette, put her feet up on a chair, and say, " My dear king, 
Reggie and I have just had a most delightful drive "; or, 
" Reggie and I enjoyed the horse-show immensely "; or 
Reggie this and Reggie that, until one night she so Reg- 
gied the king that he sent for all the wise men and ques- 
tioned them as to what he should do to cure the queen of 
this mad infatuation. One wise old fool suggested spank- 
ing, another said give her knockout drops, and every 
bunch of whiskers had a different remedy. But the king 
would have none of these, and he dismissed the wise men, 
for he suddenly hit upon the cause of the queen's con- 

The next day a room-for-rent sign appeared in th' 
office of the pretty typewriter, and that sweet thing 
started on a trip around the world that was to last for life. 

And the king went unto the queen and took her in his 
arms and spoke thusly : " My own dear tootsie-wootsie of 
a queen, I know I have been a bad king to you, for I have 
been under the spell of a witch ; but now this ensnarer of 
men's hearts is traveling in foreign parts never more to 
return, and I have come back to you a repentant man. I 
no more will wander from my ow-n fireside; I'll get up 
in the morning and make the fire ; I'll do anything if 
you'll just take me back and let me' be your own kingie 
as before." And he began to weep bounteous tears and 
his grief was pitiful to behold. 

And then the queen, too, began to weep for joy that she 


had regained the love of her king, and she confessed to 
him that her seemingly rapid career with Reggie was just 
to bring her king back to his own house and lot. 

One day gay and reckless Reggie suddenly disappeared. 

more did the king catch cold from wandering about in the 
night air, and he reigned long and happily with his queen 
ever alter. 

Moral — When a man goes one gait, he should remem- 

The queen's hair also returned to its original shade. Never- ber that his wife can always trot another. 

Why He Shivered. 

IT IS August 29th, 1907. The horny-handed humorist is 

toiling -busily. He is producing a gay and frivolous 
lot of jokes about Thanksgiving and Christmas and New- 
Year's and the cold, cold winter. His patient wife sits 
near, cheering him on in his task by frequent remarks 
about the troubles the neighbors have with their servants. 
Suddenly he drops his pen and shivers, drawing his coat 
collar up about his neck. 

" What in the world is the matter ?" asks his wife. 

•' Nothing. I just 
wrote a Christmas 

•• Must have had a 
lot of snow and ice 
in it," she smiles. 

" It wasn't that. I 
just happened to think 
how much money I 
didn't have left last 

A Conserva- 
tive Campaign. 

(( VES," said the ex- 
c a n d i.d a t e , 
" some of the heelers 
came to me and told 
me that I would have 
to put up a lot of mon- 
ey in order to defray 
the expenses of ex- 
posing the past his- 
tory of my opponent ; 
but I just told them 
that I wouldn't have 
any mud-slinging 
done. Of course there 
were no further de- 
mands for cash, and 
I got off tlirt cheap." 


Air. Crabs haw — 
" Aren't there an aw- 
ful lot of officers in 
your club ?" 

Mrs. Crabshaiii — 
" I suppose so, my 
dear ; but we found 
the only way to pre- 
serve harmony \\>as to 
give every member an 



^ ^^^ 


ONK ! Honk !" The sounds come from off shore, 
and the landsmen turn their eyes to sea. They 
behold a low, red, rakish ship, with two immense head- 
lights, dashing through the waters. Remorselessly it 
crashes through such craft as are before it. .Rapidly it 
nears the beach. Without a pause it dashes from the 
water, and then the watchers see that it also has wheels, 
and that it goes swiftly on over the land, its skipper laugh- 
ing merrily as it tosses policemen from its path. 

"What in the 
world is that ?" asks 
one of the spectators. 
" I suppose," says 
a second ; " I suppose 
that is what you 
would call a yachto- 
mobde, isn't it ?" 


THEY sat well for- 
ward, in the shade 
of the aW'Uing. 

'But, my dear," 
whispered the young 
man, " you should not 
object to my having 
my arm about you 
when even the scenery 
is setting me the ex- 

"Is it ?" asked the 
shy maiden. 

"Yes, indeed. See, 
there is an arm of the 
bay hugging the 

"Yes.'" she dis- 
puted. " But the 
shore has a cape and 
I have not." 

It was the work of 
but a moment for 
him to rush to the 
state-room and get it 
for her. 


Doctor Jones — •' I fear your heart is affected, miss. Do you ever expe- 
rience n smothering sensation?" 

Miss Gusher — " Oli, yes ; often." 

Doctor Jones — " Ali ! At what times ?" 

Miss Gusher — '-Well, usually riglit after Ferdy turns down the gas." 

.Ifrs. Ccbwigger — 
" I don't see how your 
dinner made you 

Freddie — " Why, 
ma, didn't you make 
me eat only the things 
that were good for 
me ?" 


An Old Salt's Observations 

By Ed\varcl Marshall 

HEN a girl marries his troubles 

When a wakeful husband 
mentally compares th' snorin' 
of his wife to th' music of a 
great cathedral's fine pipe-organ 
it's a sign that he is really in 
love with her. 

They say cigarettes will kill. 
When I look at most of th' fel- 
lers that smoke 'em I hope they're right. 

I knew a minister who was furious when he received a 
cheque from a divorce lawyer, with a note sayin' that he 
felt he ought to share the profits of liis business with him. 
'• Everybody else has to pay th' man who supplies him 
with his raw material." th' letter said. 

There's three ways of spellin' dishonesty. One's th' 
way I've just spelled it ; another is " t-a-c-t," an' another 
is " d-i-p-1-o-m-a-c-y. " 

Th' man who was so lazy that he couldn't chew his 
food, an' th' man who was so busy that he didn't have 
time enough to, are in th' same place now. 

Women differ. My wife can make a hotel-room feel 
like home in ten minutes ; but there is them that can 
make home feel like a hotel-room in less time than that. 

Th' trouble with bringin' up children, so far as /can 
see, is that you can't do it. They'll attend to that them- 
selves if they're any good ; an' if they ain't — why, what's 
th' use ? 

It's astonishin' how much I do love my wife Lyddy just 
about th' time my ship gits fur enough away from th' 
•dock so that I can't see her handkerchief a-wavin' there 
no more. 

Men are mills, but they are of two kinds. First, th' 
kind that grinds grist only with their teeth ; an' second, 
those that grinds a very little with th' wheels in their 
heads. Them latter we call intellectual. 

Horses have to wear blinders so they can't see what's 
a-goin' on along th' road. There'cl be fewer cases in th' 
divorce courts if some women could make their husbands 
wear 'em, too. 

I know a sea-captain who heroically jumped m an' 
■saved seventeen people an' a terrier dog from drownin'; 
but if he'd had his new uniform on he'd 'a' waited to have 
a boat lowered. Tell me that we ain't creatures of cir- 

I've been so hungry that it seemed to me I'd die if I 
didn't git some food ; but I never wanted grub so bad as 
I did a kiss one night just after I had done something 
mean to my wife an' she knew it, an' I knew she knew it, 
an' she knew I knew she knew it. 

A boy in my school could whistle through his teeth. 
We all envied him. He ain't no great shakes now that 
(he's growed up. We don't envy him no more.' I wonder 

if we won't feel about th' same in th' next world when we 
look at th' men who can make money here on earth. 

Two sailors had a hot fight in th' fo'c's'le, an' I had to 
haul 'em up for it. " What was you a-scrappin' about ?" 
1 asks. " Why," says one of 'em, " Bill, here, he .says 
brigantine is spelt with a u-n un, an' I says it's spelt with 
an e-n en." " What difference does it make to either ol 
you ?" I asks. '■ Not none," says both of 'em together. 
" All right," I says ; "I'll put you both in irons. You're 
both wrong. It's spelt with an a-n an." An' I did. It's 
just like that with most of th' folks that gets punished for 
bein' quarrelsome. 

If a man 's got silk linin' in his overcoat it's astonishin' 
what cold weather it 'Mill take to make him button it up 
tight when walkin' on th' street. But real la:e on a petti- 
coat will make a woman hold her dress-skirt up real care- 
ful when it ain't much of any muddy. 

" That doctor saved my life," says a man to me. " How 
did he do it ?" 1 asks. " Well, 1 went to one doctor when 
1 was sick an' he made me worse ; then I went to another, 
an' he made me worse yet. Then I called on th' one 
whom I just pointed out to you." " An' he cured you ?" 
I said, deeply interested. " No," says th' man ; " he w-asn't 

A minister was elected to th' legislature. Th' first bill 
he introduced prohibited all men from goin' to church. 
There was a howl about it in th' papers until he made his 
explanation. " 1 thought maybe," he remarked, " that it 
would work like that designed to keep 'em out of gin-mills 
on th' sabbath — an' somethin' /ntisi be done to increase 
our Sunday congregations." 

A Burning Question. 

CAN any one tell why a blamed old hen. 
Witli plenty good land of her own, 
Won't stay there and-scratch to her heart's content 
And let other folks' gardens alone ? 

In Delaware. 

<jTHE report of the peach-crop failure hasn't had much 
effect on the market." 
" No ; the peach-crop failure hasn't been a success 
this season." 

Just Like a Woman. 

Employer — " Where is that bit of paper with the com- 
bination of the safe on it ? I told you to put it away very 
carefully, you know, and I can't open the safe without it.'' 

New secretary — " I locked it in the sale, sir." 

Panhard — " I'm disgusted with that infernal auto of 

mine. I can't make the thing go." 

Friend — " Why don't you advertise it for sale ?" 
Panhard — " I would, only I'm afraid that whoever 

comes to see it will expect me to give him a trial spin 

in it." 



WHAT'S love? 
me, little maid ! 

Pray tell 

Nobleman — " I know I am old, but I love you ! Will you marry me ?" 
American heiress — " How much do you owe?" 


To the editor of t!ie Judge — For the sake of a constant reader of your popular paper 
I hope you will be please(i to publish therein the following funny 
Chinese fable: 

A mussel was sunning itself by the river-bank when a bittern 
came by and pecked at it. The mussel closed its shell and 
nipped the bird's beak. Hereupon the bittern said, 
" If you don't let me go to-day. if you don't let me go 
to-morrow, there will be a dead mus- 

The shell-fish answered, " If I don't 
come out to-day, if I don't come out 
to-morrow, there will surely be a dead 

Just then a fisherman 
came by and seized the 
pair of them. 

Chong Hoi Hak. 

October SI si, i8gg. 


Mrs. Jones — " And you 
will tome home early, 
won't you, dear ?" 

Jones (who is going to 
the club) — " Yes, darling ; 
but should I be a little' 
late you need not wait 
breakfast on my account." 

" I'm much too young to know," 
she said. 

I asked the bride, while 'neath its 

She said 'twas joy no tongue could 


After ten years — she did not know ; 
Forgot — it was so long ago. 

So no fair answer did I get. 
What's love ? I'm undecided yet. 


She — " \o\x were unjust to old 
Mr. Scruggs." ■ 

i%— "How?" 

She — "You always said it 
would pain him to think he'd done 
any good with his wealth, but I 
see he left a valuable legac"j' to a 
public institution." 

He—" Well, I heard he did be- 
queath his picture-gallery to the 

A MAID of honor to Queen 
Victoria gets fifteen hundred dol- 
lars for thirteen weeks' ser\-ice. 
Is there anything unlucky in those 
figures ? 

Shure, if a dog hadn't 
a tail he cudn't shpake a 

A device which can be attached to any wheel for use in winter, 
with flowers, butterflies, etc., etc., is always possible. 

By this invention a dry cycle-path 

O B 
!« > 

2 < 

s > 

•3 n 

<'^ c 

•^ XT' "^ 

,^ IT < 





The boy—" Oncet a feller give me a tub uv pink ice-cream an' a whole 
barrelful uv lickerisli-droiis an' a hatful uv jelly-cake." 
The girl—" An' what 'd yer do-?" 
The boy — " I fell outer bed an' bumped me head sometliin' orful." 

A Chromatic Charmer. 

TS.-VBELL.A is brilliant in yellow, 
^ Isabella is dainty in pink ; 
And when she wears red 
She goes right to my head — 

Bella 's dearest in scarlet, I think. 

Purple sets off the fringe of her lashes, 
And orange becomes lier well, too, 

While a violet gown 

Makes the envious frown — 

I never am "blue" when she's blue. 

She's stunningly svelte in a black dress. 
She's equally slim in a white ; 

And if you should ask me 

I think it would task me 

To say when she isn't all light. 

What is it you hint? ' I am partial?" 
Oh, skeptics ! yuu quite take the cake ! 

Yes — of course — bet your life 

Isabella *s my wife. 

What dilVrence on earth does that make i 


A Straight Tip. 

Newrich (in a moment of confidence) 
— " I don't seem to quite get the hang of 
this society business. Even my footman 
seems to be a laughing-stock." 

Cobivigger — " You'd get along all right, 
old man, if you dropped the airs you put 
on and made your footman assume tliem 


Lawyer — "Judge, this man couldn't maltreat a horse. He's the kindest ot men to animals. Why. he 
feeds his dog on nothing but tenderloin steaks. Only the other day he beat his wife black and blue for forget, 
ting to feed the dog." 

^4 7 

Judy Clancy's Party 

By Max Mcrryman 

I DIDN'T see yeez at Judy Clancy's parthy, 
Mrs. Noonan." 

Mrs. Hoolihan put the words ten- 
tatively when the two ladies met on 
the corner, Mrs. Noonan with a 
broken-nosed pitcher capable of 
holding a couple of quarts under her 
apron, and Mrs. Hoolihan with a 
number of purchases in her apron, 
among them a good-sized haddock, 
for the day was Friday. 
" Luk at me jaw," said Mrs. Noonan, touching her left 
cheek lightly with one finger. 

"It do look a bit shwollen," said Mrs. Hoolihan. 
" Toot' ache ? " 

" God above ! worse than thot — an ulsherated toot', 
an' me whole jaw pufTed out worse nor Tom Noonan 's lift 
eye whin he come home from de Murphy wake last Chews- 
day noight. Thot's de rason yeez didn't see me at Mrs. 
Clancy's parthy last noight. Whin de rest of yeez was 
inj'yin' yerselves at de parthy Oi was walkin' de flure wid 
a red flannel rag clapt to me jaw an' de ulsheration makin' 
me give tin yells to de sicoiul. Yis, Mrs. Hoolihan, it was 
me toot' lost de Clancy parthy to me." 
" Have yeez been to de dintist wid it ?' 
" Oi have, an' he aized me arlniost immejeetly by yank- 
in' de devilish toot' out, but some av de ache is lift. Oi 
t'ot thot mebbe a little beer would be h'alin' to it." 

" No doubt it will, Mrs. Noonan. It's a great h'aler av 
aches an' pains av arl koinds if wan teks enough to bring 
on blessed forgetfulness. But ye missed a grand toime by 
not comin' to de Clancy parthy." 

" Don't mintion it, ma'am ! Oi'm arlmost as sore over 
missin' av it as I am over me toot'. Oi'd iv'ry intintion av 
goin', an' Oi'd put in a good sivin hours washin' an' ironin' 
meself up for de 'casion. Oi'd me white skir-r-r-t starched 
thot stiff it'd shtand alone, an' me hair was in crimpin' 
pins whin de divilish toot'ache grabbed me as sudden as de 
appendysheetus graljbed meould man lasht spring. Wan 
hour as well as any man nade be an' de ni.xt flat on his 
back an' him in de harsepital wid de docthors comin' at 
him wid their knives almost before he knowed it was 
appendysheetus at arl at arl. De suddenness av it arl was 
as bad as de appendysheetus itself. Dear, dear, phuat a 
bother our teet' an' our appendydi.xes can be ! But 
Noonan is shy wan av his appendydixes an' Oi'm Shy wan 
av me teet', so we're thot much ahid av thim thot's got 
thim to lose." 

"Thot's roight, Mrs. Noonan, an' it's some compinsa- 
tion to know thot de toot' will never ulsherate an' de 
appendydix will niver flure Noonan no more. But phwat 
a pity de toot'ache couldn't of hild off long enough for 
yeez to of attinded Mis. Clancy's parthy. It's long since 
we'd so iligant a parthy here in Doody's coort. Judy was 
loike de hin Oi read av thot tried to cover twinty-foive 
eggs; she spread herself mightily." 

" Yeez can arlways trust Judy Clancy to do thot, any- 
how. She's de chake av a cop an' a arlderman an' a ward 
pollytishun arl in wan. Ye moind de airs she gave her- 
self at de Mulligan funeral last wake, an' her only a foorth 
cousin to the carpse ? Wan would av t'ot she was his 
widdy, or aven de carpse hisself, from de airs av her — not 
m'anin' to say annything onfriendly to Judy, for it's only 
her way, an' no wan is more ready nor Judy to do a frind 
a good turn, an' it's out wid her taypot she is or wan av 
her yangwans is sint 'round de corner wid a pitcher de 
moment wan calls on her. She's a rale leddy, is Judy 
Clancy, an' sorry Oi was not to be in attindance at her 
parthy. Was it well attinded ?" 

" De biggest part av de coort was there, ma'am to say 
nothin' av Arlderman O'Hinnissy an' his woife an' " 

" Luk at thot, now ! Nixt veez know Judy will be roight 
hand an' glove wid de Fcor Hundred an' ixchangin' calls 
wid de Vanderbiltses an' thim sort. She's aquil to anny- 
thing. Yeez moind how it was Judy herself thot led de 
grand march at de shwdll gatherers' bail ? Phwat a 
climber she'd mek in de smart set if she give her attintion 
to it ! Phwat wdd her gall an' her goodluksan' her cliver- 
ness an' her frindliness she'd hould her own wid anny av 
'em. Thin she's got phwat some av de smart set lack, an' 
thot's brains." 

" Oi guess yeez do be roight about thot, ma'am — pore 
t'ings ! Oi've often said that if their brains was aquil to 
their money, Fift' avenoo would be arl intelleck, an' God 
only knows phwat turn it would tek ! Too much intelleck 
often meks wan as big a fool as too much money." 

" Thot's de God's troot, an' Oi'm t'ankful Oi've not loo 
much av wan nor de other. But about Judy Clancy's par- 
thy. Haven't yeez heard annything about it .''" 

" Oi have n:)t, but Oi've seen Tim Whalen's oye." 

" Tut, tut, tut ! Thot was de only bit av onplisintness 
thot happened, so it's hardly, worth mekin' mintion av. 
An' Tim an' Jerry Murphy parted frinds afther de foight, 
de anners bein' about aven whin it come to black oyes." 
An' yeez haven't heard annything about de iligafit dhress 
Judy wore to de parthy .'" 

" Oi have not. Sure an' wasn't it de grane tafiity silk 
she's been mekin' such a spread wid iv'ry place she's wint 
for a year an' more back ?" 

" Not on yer loife it wasn't, Mrs. Noonan ! De ould 
grane taffity, wid its frazzled-out lace flounce an' arl split 
out under de arrums, as a chape taffity will, wasn't in it 
wid de iligant gown in which Judy kem fort' at her parthy 
— a birt'day parthy it was, as yeez are no doubt aware, 

" Yis— her t'irty-sivinth birt'day, she give out, so there's 
no doubt but thot she's beyand forty-sivin." 

"Oh, she's fifty if she's a day, but phwat smsible per- 
son ixpicts a woman to tell de troot' about her age whin 
she's beyand t'irty ? It ain't in rason to ixpict it, an- 
Judy's loike de rist av her sex— she chops off two years for 
iv'ry wan she adds to her age. She'll chop off t'ree whin 



she goes bey.ind fifty. It's a woman's perrvogative to ilo 
de loike av thot, an' where's de liarrum ? But about 
Judy's dhress she had on to her parthy. Sure an' her sis- 
ter-in-law, Dinnis Phelin's woife, hail on Jucivs ould grane 
taffity. It was loike de koind heart av Judy to loan it to 
poor Ann Phelin whin Judy hersilf had such a grand gown 
to wear, an' God knows Ann niver before felt de feel av 
silk next to her skin. It's lucky she is to have a new 
caliky wanst a year, wid arl her raft av yangwans an' Din- 
nis jugged half de toime for some divilmint or other. 
Ann 's a good sivlnty-foive pounds heavier nor Judy, so de 
taflity was a moighty snug fit, an' a fresh split bruk out in 
de back before Ann had been tin minnits in it. An' she 
didn't know she was to wear it until afther she got there." 
?^ " How kem thot ? " 

Mrs. Hoolihan was seized with such violent mirth that 
she held her gaunt sides with both hands and swayed to 
and fro laughing for several minutes before saving, 

'• Wait until Oi tell yeez about de gown Judy had on. 
Sure an' it was fit for a quane. Not aven Alderman 
O'Hinnissy's woife, wid her yallow silk an' black lace, had 
one to mritch Judy's. Hers was a pink satin, moind yeez, 
a rose-pink satin wid a thrail a good foor feet long, an' 
lace — de hovvly saints above us, de lace there was on 
thot gown 1 ' 

" God above ' how did Judy Clancy git insoide av a 
dhress loike thot ? We arl know thot Moike Clancy has 
his twinty dollars a wake, but" 

" Moike Clancy's wages for twinty wakes wouldn't 
have paid for thot dhress. The iligance av it ! None 
av yer ready-made hand-me-downs to be bought at a 
bargain sale or a fire sale or anny other koind av a sale, 
marked down f:om a hundred to tin dollars an' eighty- 
sivin .cents — no, no, Mrs. Noonan 1 Thot gown was de 
rale t'ing, an' de lace was de rale lace. Wasn't Oi lady's 
maid wanst an' don't Oi know de rale from de imniyta- 
tion ? Thot Oi do ! An' thot gown niver was built anny 
place but in Paris or on Fift' avenoo. Oi said thot to 
Honory Eagen de minnit Oi clapt me oyes on it. It had 
de luk, de ■ air ' wan niver sees in no hand-me-down gown. 
Thot gown was made to arder, an' thot lace — it's de God's 
iroot thot de lace flounce on' tliot gown was de width av 
de hull len'th av me arrum I An' Judy ! Well, well, anny 
woman ciid be ixcused for puttin' on airs wid a rag loike 
thot on her back ! Judy was loike wan walkin' on air. 
Her chakes was as pink as her gown an' she'd de oye av 
wan in de sivinth heaven. Oi'd been there but a few 
minnits whin she tuk occasion to whisper in me ear, 

" • Ketch on to me dhress ! A birt'dav prisint it was 
from me sister Katy in BuflTylo. It kem by ixpress not 
six hours ago. An' me thinkin' Oi'd wear me ould grane 
t'.ffity wid <le fresh lace Oi'd put on it, but whin this kem, 
an' whin Dinnis's woife kem in her ould rag av a black 
dhress, Oi made her whip it ofT an' wear me taffity. Ain't 
Oi as foine as a paycock ?' 

'• She was thot. It was tin toimes de most iligant gown 
iver seen in de coort, an' whin " 

A second fit of laughter more violent than the first 
choked the utterance of Mrs. Hoolihan for a moment or 
two, and then she said, 

'■ Yeez know, 4v coorse, thot Judy's sister Katy is a 

dhressmaker m Bufly'o. Oi'm tould she's tin girruis in 
her imploy, but, aven so, it was hardly to be ixpicteil thot 
she should be sendin' ner sister a gown loike thot in a 
prisint — not aven in a birt'day prisint for a birt 'day parthy. 
Well, de avenin' wore on until most tin o'clock when arl 
of a sudden de 'lectric bell Judy is so proud av in her 
tinnymint rung sharp an' quick an" Judy shteps to de 
tube an' says 'Come up' in a v'ice loike honev, an' thim 
at the other ind av de bell come up arl roight, an' they was 
a man, ividinlly an ixpressman, an' a verj- iligant-lookin' 
gintleman an' leddy, an' whin de leddv caught sight of 
Judy she gave a screech aquil to de wan Oi bet veez give 
whin yer toot' come out, an' pointed a finger toward Judy 
an' says, 

" ' O, she has it on, she has it on — my beautiful dhress ?' 

"' ]'oiir dhress?' says Judy, drawin' herself up wid 
fire in her oye. 

" ' Yes, my dhress, you dreadful person,' screeched de 

" ' You lie, thin !' says Judy, peelite as de nixt wan, or 
as de leddy herself. De gintleman flushed up, but he'd 
de judgmint to kape cool, an' he says, 

" ' There has been a mistake, ma'am. De ixpress- 
man mixed up his boxes in some way an' brought veez a 
box containin' a dhress belongin' to me woife, an' he has 
not yet found de box he ividintly had for you. But de 
dhress yeez have on is me woife's. It is wan she was to have 
worn to a parthy this evenin', an' Oi must ask yeez to let 
her have it at once.' 

•' .-^n' wasn't there de divil to pay thin ? Oh, Judy 
Noonan, but it was more nor onUind av yer toot' to chate 
yeez out av it arl ! Judy she ripped an' raved an' forgot 
herself to de ixtint av usin' langwidge she'll feel de nade 
of confessin' herself av as soon as may be. She showed 
de letther from her sister Katy, tellin' how she had sint 
Judy a dhress in a prisint to wear to her partfiy, but whm 
she brouglu out de box de dhress kem in, sure enough it was 
not Judy's name on it, an' it put Judy to de imbarassmint 
av ownin' up tiiot she couldn't rade writin' an' thot wan av 
de Murphy yangwans had read her letther to her— poor 
Judy 1 She wint down loike one av these t'y balloons wid 
a pin poke in it whin she had to peel off her iligant gown. 
She swore she'd not tek it off until her own dhress was 
fetched to her, but a hiiit of a cop to be brought up made 
her waken. She was in for tearin' de lace to pieces an' 
de leddy screeched thot thot lace cost hundreds of dollars, 
as Oi knew it had. Some av it was ould family lace. Oh, 
but we'd a toime of it !" 

•' Poor Judy ' An' her so top-lofty, annyhow." 

•• Don't mintion it. She was none too top-lot'ty whin 
she had to ixchange de iligant pink satin for her ould 
grane taffity while Ann Phelin had to put on her own ould 
black cashymere. Of coorse thot took a good dale of loife 
out av de parthv, an' Judy forgot hersilf again to de ixtint av 
boxin' de ears av Maggie O'Learj- for titterin' at her, an" 
Maggie's sister give Judy a belt in de ear, an' it would of 
been onplisint all around, an' things would of happened 
Judy would of been sorry for, hadn't Judy come to hersilf 
an' remembered it was her own parthy an' it ill become 
her to be boxin' de ears av thim she'd invited to her own 
birt'day. So we'd a roight plisint toime, barrin' de little 



scrap Oi've mintioned an' de wan thot give Tim Whalen 
his black oye an' Moike McCarthy de loss o' two front 
Jeet', an' Tim Murphy a bloody nose. Oi'm jist from 
Judy's tinnymint now, an' de dhress her sister Katy sint 
Her has jist come. It's a very nate black grennydeen wid 
a dash av red in de trimmin', but a poor ixchange for a 
pink satin wid sivin hundred dollars in lace on it, an' 
Judy feels it, poor sowl ! " 

" Who wouldn't ?" 

" Sure enough, ma'am. But Oi must get me fish in 
me oven. Oi hope yer achin' toot' yeez had drawed will 
soon aize up a bit." 

" Oi t'ink it will whin Oi've some av de contints av me 
imply pitcher in me mout'. Good-d.ny, ma'am." 

" Good-day. If yeez cud only hnv been to Judy Clancy's 
parthy !" 

In a Hurry. 

'HUMPLEY has committed suicide." 

' Yes ; he couldn't wait to die, and so he shot 

" He took time by the firelock," 

Can't Live without It. 


Have you seen our last 


" The sins of the parents are visited upon tlie child." 
" Yes, indeed. They heir tlieir domestic troubles that way, as a rule." 

Editor (of a new paper)- 
number yet ?" 

/"o^/ (who has just had a sheaf of sonnets rejected) — 
" No ; but I e.xpect to in about a month." 

Feminine Fancies. 

"It may be that to secure her rights woman 
may have to take rlie law into her own hands. 
She may have to use the pistol and the shot- 
gun." — From inierviezL luith Mrs. E. Cady 

pERHAPS she will, for women wr-.y 
Do strange things in this newer day. 

But if she does, dear madim. can 
She load the gun witliout the man 

To tell her this and tell her that. 
And show her where the muzzle's at ? 

And does she know the difference 'twi.\t 
.\ gun and pistol ? She'd get mixed 

So that she wouldn't know at all 
.\ bird-shot from a musket-ball. 

.\nd who would pull tlie trigger when 
She sallied forth to shoot the men ? 

And would it not, dear madam, seem 
Malapropos to liear her scream 

Just as the gun went ofi' and shot 
-\ gentleman upon the spot? 

How odd to hear her sofdy coo, 
■I've shot a horrid man or two." 

It might be, madam, if you please, 
At pink or otlier-colored teas, 

The thing to offer some choice prize 
To her who'd shot a man of size ; 

While she the booby'd be. mayhap, 
Who'd only winged a little chap. 

<Jr if she met a tender swain 

Who failed to make his purpose plain — 

A single thought between two souls — 
She'd simply shoot him full of holes. 

Or if a Iiusband had forgot 
To do an errand he'd be shot^— 

Forgot to send the coal or bread, 

His wife would pump him full of lead. 

And so on till the list is done — 

Great Cresar, ma'am ! put up your gun. 

For we'll surrender on the spot 
In prefeience to being shot, 

And indeed, to get the chance. 
Here ! take our whiskers and our pants. 



A Plea. 

iTREAT novelist ■within thy den, 
'^ 1 prithee heed my simple plea. 
I love what floweth from thy pen — 

Gadzooks ! it really pleaseth me. 
But if thou still wouldst be my friend, 

And soar exultant to the skies, 
Oil, let thy next book, to the end, 

Be one they cannot dramatize. 

Thy works I love when in the night 
I con thy pleasant pages through. 

riiou makest me to laugh outright. 
And oft thou makest me boo-hoo ! 

Exceeding delicate thy wit. 

To heights of pathos thou dost rise ; 

But let thy next book exquisite 

Be one they cannot dramatize. 


I weep when reading of the woe 
Thy hero suffers on each page ; 

Yet all the while I dread to know- 
Some day he'll strut upon the stage 

And knock my sweet illusions down 
Before my sad and tearful eyes. 

Let thy next book, man of renown, 
Be one they cannot dramatize. 


Chicago Economy. 

»jti/HAT a cuiious-looking^ ticket, Mr. 

" Lakefront ! May I see it ? Why, 
it's a commutation ticket " 

" Yes, for marriages — good for ten 
ceremonies by any of the ministers named 
on the back. I find it reduces the cost ot 
a wedding about ten per cent., which is 
not to be ignored nowadays." 

Past Comprehension. 

I ITTLE Elinor and little Evelyn were 
outdoing each other in their stories 
of what their parents could do for 

" Well," Elinor asserted with a proud 
toss of her head, " my mamma says I can 
take piano-lessons." 

" But, goodness me !" cried Evelyn, 
" do you want to ?" 

Only Russian Victory. 

THE admiral pinned the glittering order upon the grizzled veteran's breast. 
" The emperor honors a chosen son," he said, huskily. 

The long lines of marines swam before his eyes. 

" I did nothing, excellency ; nothing," sobbed the old sailor, overcome 
by emotion as he sank to one knee. 

" You saved the honor of your country," said the admiral hoarsely. 
" In discovering the British fishing-fleet " — he turned away to hide his 
tears — "you gave us the only victory of the war." 

Wresting Victory from Defeat. 

THE orderly dashed up on a foaming steed, dismounted, and saluted. 

" Have our forces been repulsed at every point ?" asked the Russian 

" Yes, sir," replied the orderly. 

" We'll have to finish this game at some place in the rear," said the 
commander to those sitting in with him. Then, to the orderly, " Very 
good. You may have dispatches sent out announcing a victorious 

"Do fishes grow up fast, Jimmie?" 

" Some of 'em does. Pop caught one here last year that grows 
free inches every time he tells about it." 

fer a cent." 

Here yer are, boss ! De last extra an' a cake uv soap 

The Practical Poet. 

<i THE manipulation of the rhythmic ad. is all verj- well," 
said the practical poet, " hut there's still easier 
graft in this honored profession The nervous prostration 
that followed my three years of toil as a poetical adsmith 
was only softened by the golden returns from the game. 
But there came a time when the spondee and anapest re- 
fused to work and the iambic pentameter went on a long 
vacation. My verses grew so weak and invertebrate that, 
horror of horrors ! I feared that I would be compelled to 
write for the magazines for a living. But when I opened 
this office for the examination of manuscript, with advice 
as to where to land the commodity, I was astounded at 
the extent and variety of budding genius in the country. 
Now the creative agony is over, the stuff and shekels pour 
joyfully in, and I can lay good and sufficient claim to 
shine as one of the step-fathers ol American literature." 

Woke Up. 

JVti^gUs—" That college professor is more successful 
since he gave up trying to reason out everything by de- 

Jnggles — " How does he do it now .■'" 

Waggles — " Uses a little boss sense." 

Quite the Reverse. 

Stayer — " I am very impulsive — I never know when to 

Miss Weary — " Oh, yes, you do. - The trouble is you 
don't know when to go." 

A Stay-at-home. 

AM not worried as to where I'll go 
To while the balmy summer months away — 
Bar Harbor, Old Point Comfort, or Cape May 
Are places quite acceptable, I trow. 
To cut a shine in Newport's giddy show 

Would be delightful, more than I can say, 
'Mong beauty's fairest queens. Alack-a-day ! 
These gilded joys are not for me, I know. 
Instead, a trip to Coney is my fate, 

Where ladiantly tlie soulful sausage gleams 
From out the pale, blond bunlet — back again 
In troUeyed misery to contemplate. 

Within my furnished room, till blissful dreams 
Bring glory, wealth and real estate in Spain. 


Canard Disproved. 

THE Kentucky delegation is assembled in the corridor of 

the Wadditorium hotel, when a facetious Michigander 
seeks to make merry at their expense. Calling to a pass- 
ing bell-boy, he says, 

" I suppose you have been kept pretty busy since all 
these Kentuckians came to the house ?" 

" No busier than usual, sir." 

" Why, don't they keep you rushing every morning 
bringing drinks to their rooms when they get up ?" 

"No, sir," replies the boy courteously, while the Ken- 
tuckians smile approvingly. 

" You don't mean to say that they don't drink ?" asks 
the Michigander. 

" No, sir. They don't go to bed." 

"So you will guide me to a place of amusement 
to-night if I give you a dime?" 

' ■ Vep. Me muddei says dere 'II be a circus at our 
house ter-night if de old man comes home drunk." 


On Getting There with Both Feet 

By R. N. Duke 

I OTHIXG pleases me so much as the story of 
men whom misfortune has kept on the 
jump until they worked up an exceptional 
gait and finally scored a great, big, jolly 
success," said the benevolent-lookmg 
man. " It makes me think the old world 
is right-side up after all. No matter what 
line you are in, there's nothing like the joy 
of feeling that you have got there with 
both feet. 

" When a poor fellow has eaten dirt tor 
twenty or thiity years, walked on gravel 
with stone-bruises on both heels, picked 
his way through back alleys to hide his 
poverty, slept in haymows, borne re- 
buffs and suffered ridicule fur his ambi- 
tion and hopes, and wiien, in spite ol a 
steady diet of misfortune, he kept right 
on, growing bigger in heart w-ith every 
adversity and ge^''"" in spirit as his brain throbbed with 
a fiercer resolution, and by and by stepped out ol dark- 
ness into light, out of obscurity into fame, out of poverty 
into prosperity, and began to roll in clover, it makes nie 
feel as glad as if it was myself. 

" But what I started out to say is that very singular 
accidents sometimes lead the way to a successful career. 
I once knew two brothers who were logging out in a 
timber camp. One of them was a fine big fellow, twenty- 
two years old, and as poor as Job's turkey. He had an 
idea that he was marked out for something, but he 
couldn't find the chalk-marks. So he kept sawing wood. 
One day a log slipped from the cant-hooks, rolled down on 
him and smashed his feet. That settled that end of him. 
But in his enforced retirement something waked up in his 
head. He hadn't been able to borrow any money on his 
feet, but his head made good collateral and he went to 
college. To-day from the ankles up he's the biggest kind 
of success. He got there with both feet, but he had to los» 
them both to do it. 

" One of the saddest days of my life," continued the 
benevolent-looking man, "was spent in a museum in 
Rochester. I wasn't one of the attractions. I wandered 
into the museum because business wasn't very pressing. 
I wasn't as much engaged as I would like to have been. 
Time was hanging on my hands, and loafing around until 
it was beginning to be a nuisance. When a fellow feels as 
if he was an orphan out of a job in a cannibal island, it's 
wonderful how blue he can get. There are days in a 
man's life when he feels as if the folks had gone in and 
locked the door and left him all alone out on the back 
steps of a bankrupt universe. He isn't blue — no color can 
paint his teelings — he just feels like a dog out in a snow- 
storm looking through a crack in the woodshed at a 
feather mattress. But why attempt to describe the inde- 
scribable ? I was in the museum spending the day near 

the chamber of horrors. It was so comforting to see 
misery in wax. 

" By and by 1 saw a commotion on the other side of the 
room, and went over to see what it was about. One of the 
attract! ns was about to make a speech. He was forty- 
five, short, stout, and weighed about one hundred and 
seventy-five pounds. He had no feet at ail. There was 
another peculiar thing about this legless man, and that 
w,s he had no hands. One ann ended in a pointed spud 
below his elbow. The other tapered to a point at his 
wrist. Yet he was a wood-carver and an expert penman. 
That's right ! He could do both beauiifuUy. He was the 
most cheerlui deformity I ever saw. He made us a little 
speech to the effect that nobody need have any sympathy 
for him, as he could get along very well without it. Said 
he, ' I do not miss my hands nor feet, because 1 never had 
any, and it is a wonder to me what you people who have 
them do with them. I eat three square meals every day, 
have had work all my life, go and come without assistance 
from anybody, and have just as much fun as any of you.' 

•' Well, sir, that waked me up. That man would have 
got there with both feet if he had only had one lung and a 
backbone left. You can't down a man when his he.nd is 
running on schedule time. I said to myself then if a man 
with just enough members to make him look like a hat- 
rack can get there with both feet, when he never had a 
foot to his name, what's to hinder a fellow who never 
knew an ache or a pain from going ahead and being a 
comfort to his relatives ? I went out of there and got a job 
in a leather-works before the sun went down." 

The Candied Date. 

THE candied date, as all may see, 
* Is found quite often up a tree. 

The tree's a palm, you understand. 
Because he always gives the hand. 

The candy that they use to stuff him 
Is taflfy (when tliey du not cufl hmi). 

And yet alas ! how very quick 'U 
All this sweetness turn to pickle ! 

How soon, when clerks the figures state, 
The candied date is out of date ! 


A Bare Possibility. 

IT happened that we overheard two servants talking on 

the train as we went home. Said one, 

"Oh. th' wages wor good an' th' wur-rk wor aisy. 
shure, Oi do be sorry sometoimes I left th' place." 

It seemed intrusive to listen longer to such an intimate 
confession. Could it be true ? Experience is against it ; 
and yet, and yet, does any of our former cooks look back 
sadly to her visit to our humble home and wish that it 
had not ended ? Perhaps — perhaps ! 


T'S nice to hear the New- 
year chimes 
Ring out their symphony oJ 
rhymes ; 
,: !, But every rose must have its 
And one forgets the >ear new 
~, When Mr. Damphule toots 
his horn. 


Small boy — "Mister, 1 
wants a bottle of vaseline." 


Farmer Jones — " I thought I neard some one at ther chicken-house, an' they wuz two fellers 
come in hyar, thet's certain ; but they shorely must hev iiad wings ter git erway 'thout niakin' tracks." 

'Rastus {in the rear) — " Golly ! dis is er close shave. But Ah reckon dis scheme uv walkin' 
backwards 'II puzzle him long ernuff toe let me git erway." 

Drug -clerk — " Do 


want scented or 



Small boy — " No. 


fetch it wid me." 


He was a widower and the father of two children, aged respectively five and 
seven. She was a widow who possessed one young hopeful aged five. They met, 
and immediately established a mutual-admiration society of two, which resulted in 
marriage. In the due course of time their family was enlarged by the advent of 
twins. Returning from business one evening, he was startled by shrieks from the . 

nursery. Racing up-stairs, 

he took in the situation at 

a glance, and a moment 

"1 upon 




The arch fiend — " Maybe you can find your wife 
among these restless spirits which you see so sorely driven 
by the stormy blast." 

New arrival (from Chicago) — " I wouldn't wonder. 
She always was a high-flyer." 


"Amy, for heaven's 
sake ! go to the nursery, 
for your children and my 
children are trying to 
murder our children." 


Mother — "Here, Ar- 
thur, is the ten cents I 
promised you for being 

Arthur — "Just give me 
a nickel, mamma. It only 
hurt half as much as I 
thought it would." 


He (angrily) — " Look at 
this bill. Forty dollars 
for perfumery — for mere 
odors that fade away for- 
ever !" 

She (calmly) — " Gone 
to meet the smoke from 
the last eight boxes of 
cigars you have consumed 
during the last three 

It's some min 
don't talk wurds ; 
talk carpit-tacks. 



Mr. Xith on a warm- 

-and a cold day. 


Brother Sncbcckcr's Panther. 

The Moving Tale of Her Tender Passion, and Her Fierce and Fatal Jealousy 

By Ed Mott 

AYBE you didn't know, " Kiar," remark- 
ed Solomon Cribber, dropping with- 
out provocation into chronicling, 
" that Uncle David Beckendarter's 
brother Snebecker was one o' those 
noble patriots that dropped the plow 
in the furrow and took up their guns 
to go forth to do battle at their coun- 
try's call. Maybe you didn't know 
that, 'Kiar ? ' 

" I never heerd nothin' about his 
droppin' his plow in the furrow," 
replied 'Kiar Biff, the landlord ; " but 
I -remember the day he was drafted." 
This seemed to give pleasure to 
Squire Birkett. from over Hogback, 
and he hummed a stave or two of 
that stirring war-chant of '63; "They took him— yes, 
they took him to the arms of Abraham "; but not even 
such uncharitable references as these could disturb the 
equanimity of Solomon Cribber when he was chronicling, 
and he scorned them and proceeded. 

" When Uncle David's brother Snebecker was tightin' 
and bleedin' in his country's cause," said he, " he was 
took prisoner one time by a passel of gorillies in the wild 
mountains down there somewheres. They was polite to 
him, though, he said, and told him he could turn in and 
git a good night's sleep, it bein" nearly dark then, 'cause 
they'd have to hang him pretty early next mornin', bein' 
as they had to take an early start to git to the next place 
they was goin', and they give him the privilege o' pickin' 
out the tree he'd ruiher be hung on. He thanked 'em, 
picked out his tree, and turned in. 

" The gorillies had been so polite and considerate 
that he sort o' hated to do it, but he got to thinkin' how 
much nicer it 'd be to git back home some time and hear 
the purlin' murmur of the old Passadanky ag'in than it 
would to stay in that camp till mornin' jest to hear old 
Jordan roll, so he concluded that he'd give 'em the slip, 
and some time durin' the night he managed to do it. As 
long as he had done it he knowed it behooved to keep 
a-goin', ler if they foUered and ketched him he knowed 
it 'd go hard with him, and that they wouldn't even give 
him the privilege of pickin' out his tree. So he did keep 
a-goin', stumblin' and staggerin' along through the dark, 
further and further away into the wilderness. 

" He kep' a-goin' all that night, and when daylight 
come he flopped down 'longside of a rock and says to 

" ' I dunno whether they're on my track or not, but I 
do know that I'm goin' to have a nap, by skeezix, trailin' 
me or no trailin' me, and be durned to 'em .' says he. 

" In less than half a minute he was snorin', and he 
must 'a' been tremendous tired and sleepy, fer when he 

went to sleep the sun was jest comin' up, and when he 
woke up the sun was jest goin' down. He was shiverin' 
with cold, and seein' that he'd have to have a better place 
than the outside ol a rock to spend the night in, he looked 
around and see an openin' in the rocks. When he went 
to git up, though, to see whether that openin" was big 
enough to hold him fer the night, he found that he was 
stiffer and sorer than a foundered horse, and it was all he 
could do to drag himself to the hole. It was the openin' 
to a cave as big as a tent. 

" ' This ain't bad,' says Uncle David's brother Sne- 
becker. ' This '11 do fust rate,' says he, and he stretched 
out and went asleep ag'in. 

" When he woke up some time or other in the night he 
didn't only feel as if every bone in his body was a holler 
tooth, and achin' the best it knowed how, but he felt as if 
he mowt be layin' in somethin' like a cider-press, with 
some one squeezin' of it down. Then he heerd somethm' 
breathin' as strong as a Passadanky fellow-citizen full o' 
raftsman's rum, and turnin' his eyes down along himselt 
he see two balls o' fire shinin' in the darkness, jest over 
his chist, and felt hot puffs of air strikin' him in the face, 
reg'lar as the tickin' of a clock. The balls o' fire lit up 
things so that 'fore long he see that what made him feel 
as if he was bein' squeezed down in a cider-press was a 
tremendous big she panther, layin' with a good part of 
herself on his chist and breathin' in his face, and that the 
balls o' fire was her eyes glarin' at him. 

"'This is cheerin' !' says .Snebecker. 'I've holed up 
in a panther den, and the panther has ketched me at it ! 
One o' these mountain panthers that ain't never so tickled 
as when they git a man to eat ! This is cheerin' !' 
says he. 

" He didn't have a weapon of any kind, and his j'ints 
was so stiff that he was afeerd he mowt break some of 
'em in the rassle if he tackled the paniher and went to 
chokin' her to death, so he kep' his temper and let her lay 
there, trustin' to somethin' happenin'. Bv and by the 
balls o' fire went out, and Uncle David's brother Sne- 
becker knowed the panther had gone to sleep, so he 
dropped off into another snooze himself. When he woke 
it was daylight, and the panther had got up and was 
layin' stretched full length across the openin' o' the cave, 
lookin' sort o' longin' at Snebecker. 

" When she see that Snebecker was awake she riz to 
her feet, and come to'rds him. 

" ' Wants her breakfast pooty ding early, seems to 
me !' says Snebecker, put out like Sam Hill to think that 
she was goin' to begin at him 'fore he hardly had his eyes 
open yit ; then rememberin' that if you look wild beasts 
in the eye with a bold and unflinchin' look you cow 'em 
down, he turned setch a look on to this one, and when she 
come up to him he reached out and tickled her on the 
head, and smoothed her fur like he would a pet cat's, but 


ready all the time to clutch her by the throat and have it 
out with her if she didn't wilt but went to diggin' pieces 
out of him fer breakfast. 

" But she wilted. She wagged her long tail and 
rubbed her head ag'in Uncle David's brother Snebecker, 
and purred till, if the cave 'd had winders in it, Snebecker 
says, they'd 'a' rattled like all possessed. Then she went 
off 10 one side and laid down, and Snebecker got to his 
feet somehow, and limped around the cave as if he was 
sort o' settin' things to rights. Then he sauntered keer- 
less-like out o' the cave and tottered along, pretendin' 
that he was only lookin' the surroundin's over to see how 
he liked 'em, but thinkin' all the time that mebbe he could 
keep it up till he got out o' the panther's reach. He 
hadn't gone fur, though, when out she come a-bouncin'. 
She rounded Snebecker up and headed him off, growlin' 
fierce and showin' her fangs in a way that didn't leave no 
doubt in Snebecker's mind as to her meanin'. 

" He sot down with his back ag'in a tree and pon- 

"'I'm oh the limits, plain enough,' says he. 'She's 
keepin' me till she wants me. Then she'll take me in. 
This comes of abusin' the politeness of them gorillies,' 
says he. ' If I hadn't done that I'd 'a' been calm and 
peaceful now, 'slid o' sufiferin' with these achin' j'ints, and 
with a future that don't reach no further than a panther's 
maw ! It serves me right i' says he. 

" The panther laid down nigh him and looked up at 
him with no more fire in her eyes than if she was a lamb. 
Snebecker patted her on the neck. She liked il, and 
rubbed ag'in' him and purred and wagged her tail. By 
and by she went up a wild plum-tree that stood nigh 
and crawled out on a limb. It was loaded with ripe 
wild plums, and Snebecker, bein' hungrier than a wolf 
by this time, had been wonderin' how he was goin to git 
some of 'em. She danced on the limb till it broke under 
her and she come tumblin' to the ground with it. Then 
she drug it and laid it in Iront o' Snebecker, purrin' and 
waggin' her tail ! 

"'Consarn her !' says he. ' I ain't fat enough for her, 
and she's goin' to feed me till I be !' says he. 

" But he eat somethin' like a peck o' the plums, all the 
same, and they put stren'th in him, so that he thought 
he'd venture on a little stroll ag'in, bein' as the panther 
was in setch a good humor. Mebl)e he could fool her, 
somehow, he thought, and git away. He walked up 
along the creek that run by that spot, makin' out that if 
there was any place on top of earth he'd rather be than 
another it was right where he was. The panther trotted 
along close by his side. A hundred yards up the creek 
stood a big white rock. He limped along till he got 
there, and if ever Uncle David Beckendarter's brother 
Snebecker was took back so that he hollered, it was then. 
Close 'longside the rock laid the skeleton of another feller, 
bleachin' in the sun. Snebecker stood slock still. So 
did the panther. Snebecker stared at the remains a spell 
and then glanced at the panther. The panther was lookin' 
up at him, Snebecker says, with a knowin' grin on her 
face and her eyes shinin' green. And what did he read 
on her face as meanin' o' that look ? 
" ' This is as fur as the feller got !' 

" That's what he read on the panther's face, and he 
turned and started on his limpin' way back, the panther 
trottin' a little ahead of him, as if she knowed ding well 
that he would foUer. He hadn't took more than a couple 
o' steps when he see a liig dirk-knife, the blade yaller with 
rust, layin' on the ground. He stooped quick and got it. 
" ' Hope I'll have better luck with it than t'other feller 
did !' says he, and he hid it in his clothes. 

" When they got back to the cave Snebecker was \'uck- 
ered out, and he couldn't 'a' got no lurther if he'd had the 
chance, which he didn't, fer the panther stayed close till 
night cotne, and then climbin' the tree and pickin' some 
more plums fer Snebecker, she give a howl and went 
boundin' away into the wilderness. The creek had a 
queer-lookin' bottom o' white sand where it flowed nigh 
the cave, and Snebecker stumbled along down to the creek 
and brung up a hatful o' the sand and went to scourin' 
the rust offen the blade o' the knife he had found. After 
he got it scoured he sharpened it on the rocks. He ex- 
pected the panther 'd be comin' back some time in the 
night, and he had an idee. Then he tumbled into the 
cave and went to sleep. 

" But the panther didn't come home that night, nor 
she wasn't home yit when Snebecker woke up in the 
mornin'. He peeked out, but she wasn't nowheres around. 
He was feelin' a little limberer, and lie concluded not to 
wait fer the panther to come home. He thought he'd 
jest make a dash into the creek and so on down it a ways, 
so the panther couldn't foller the scent of his tracks. He 
scooted as fast as he could fer the creek and jumped in, 
right where the queer white sand-spot was. He hadn't 
no more than struck it than he begun to sink. 

" • Quicksand as sure as bullets !' Snebecker hollered, 
and he could hear old Jordan rollin' above the roar o'that 
creek. He sunk and he sunk. He had got down as fur 
as his arm-pits. 

" ' Oh !' says Snebecker ; ' oh, fer the tree the gorillies 
let me pick out ! Or else fer the maw of the panther I' 

" He was down most to his neck in the suckin' sands, 
when somethin' grabbed him by the collar, and with one, 
two, three tremendous yanks pulled him out o' the hole 
and landed him on the solid bank. He come down wi;h 
a squash, and lookin' up see the panther standin' ever 
him ! She had saved his life, and she steered him back 
to the cave, purrin' like a distant thunder-storm, and rub- 
bin' ag'in' him and waggin' her tail, and lookin' up in his 
face like a dyin' calf! Then it struck him all in a heap. 
The panther was sweet on him ! She had fell in love 
with him head over heels ! And that was why she didji't 
want him to get away ! 

"This was flatterin' and touchin' to Uncle David's 
brother Snebecker, but it was alarmin'. Could he go 
stick a knife into her now, partic'larly as she had snatched 
him out of a livin' grave ? And so he dallied there fer 
days, eatin' the plums and the wild grapes she gathered 
fer him, and tryin' to git up courage enough to run awav, 
and yit hatin' to do it. But, any way, he got a longin' fer 
some meat. Wild plums and grapes was all right, but he 
felt an emptiness that nothin' but meat o' some kind 'd 
till. One day, when he was pinin' this way fer meat, a 
pair o' cooin' wood-pigeons lit in a tree nigh the cave. 


Snebecker up with a stone and knocked one of 'em out o' 
the tree. He didn't kill it, and it fluttered around on the 
ground. That made Snebecker sorn-, much as he wanted 
meat, and he picked up the bird and held it ag'in his face, 
and stroked its feathers and talked to it gentle. 

" The pantlier was layin' at the mouth o' the cave, and 
when she see Snebecker caressin' the pigeon and talkin' 
soothin' to it, she bounced on to him with a yell that made 
his blood run cold. She slapped her paws agin his chist 
and snapped at his throat with her red jaws, her eyes 
flashin' fire. In a second Snebecker tossed the bird away, 
and with one jab sent his dirk clean to the hilt in the pan- 
ther's heart. She dropped to the ground, give Snebecker 
a look that went to his heart most as deep as his dirk had 
sunk into her'n, and was dead as that bleachin' skeleton 

up by the white rock, her ding jealousy havin' been too 
overpowerin' fer her love, and Snebecker's dirk havin' 
been p'inted jest right. And there the wounded pigeon, 
too, laid dead, with its poor mate a moumin' on the limb 
— and Snebecker without an e.xcuse fer killin' it, fer he 
had no match to build a fire to cook it. So, takin' it all in 
all, the tender strings of his heart was tetched so power- 
ful that he sot down and wept floods o' hot and scaldin' 
tears. Floods o' hot, scaldin' tears !" 

" Well, why in Sam Hill," said 'Kiar Biff, " didn't he 
use 'em to b'ile that pigeon in, then ? Seems to me that 
'd 'a' eased up on his feelin's about not havin' any match." 

But Mr. Cribber had chronicled, and he was not dis- 
posed to commit the record to any e.xpression of opinion 
on 'Kiar's remark, and he did not. 

Destiny and the Cow 

By [Richard S. Graves 

lESTIXY lurks sometimes in the fence corners, 
and often where we do not expect to see it. 
The innocent bystander is shot, and the giant 

' fire-cracker goes ofl in the hand of the dealer ; 

and oftentimes the man who sroes unscathed throusfh a 
war comes home to be run over and killed by a beer- 

There was McSpadden's cow, for instance. She was a 
creature nobody thought Destiny would use. She looked 
like a hide hung on a picket-fence. Her eyes were mild, 
and the swing of her tail looked like the wave of a wand, 
but it wasn't. It was equal to a stroke of paralysis. It 
resembled a well-sweep with a cyclone handling the other 

Destiny hung about that cow a score of years^ hovering 
around like an impending doom and waiting for a chance 
at McSpadden. Destiny put out a danger-signal for him 
every time the cow swung her tail around, but he would 
not heed a warning. When she swung it and knocked 
him off the stool he patiently resufned the operation of milk 
ing her, though often stunned and blinded. He appeared 
to be infatuated — or it may have been that he just wanted 
the milk. He even sang joyously at times. He was used 
to it. 

Anybody could see the hand of Destiny in it after it 
was all over, but the soothsayer has not been born who 
could have foretold just how fate intended to ripen Mc- 
Spadden for the obsequies. He was a large man with a 
liking for green cucumbers, and nobody would have 
guessed anything but a case of cholera morbus, with a 
doctor to do the rest. 

McSpadden was a short-sighted man at the best, or he 
would not have tied a twenty-pound rock to the cow's tail 
to prevent her from lashing him in the face. A few hours 
later his clammy corpse was found in the fence corner, 
and the cow was calmly chewing her cud. Several of the 

boards were broken, showing that the cow had stood 
there and practiced, considering that she had several more 
throws after he was dead. It may be that she intended to 
jerk the rock through the air and knock the eternal day- 
lights out of a fly. However that may be. Destiny got in 
her work. McSpadden's head was in the way. 

It is impossible to understand the hypothesis upon 
which Destiny works. The good die young, while the 
tough live on to a ripe old age, burglarizing or practicing 
law. Sometimes the bravest soldier is kicked to death by 
a mule. Destiny and dignity do not go hand in hand. 

At times it looks as though Destiny is trying to be 
funny with us. 

The Virtuoso. 

I E led oft with the left and made a dash 

At Chopin's nocturne, opus twenty-three, 
In A(sia) minor, and 'twas brave to see 
Ilim tackle Liszt's Hungarian goulash. 
The grand piano almost went to smash 

\\Tien \\'agner numbers followed fast and free. 
The audience heard the weird cacophany, 
And. silent, mourned the loss of hard-won cash. 
But now the artist makes a fresli assault 
Boldly upon the pliant instrument, 

And, freed from classicism's hide-bound laws 
He pounds the willing keys without a halt. 
It is " Bedelia," and the air is rent 

With one long, ringing salvo of applause. 



No Use. 

li/E meet the extravagant woman at the bargain- 

" Why do you spend so much money ?" we ask. 
"Would it not be well to lay by something for a rainy 
day ?" 

With a merry- gurgle of laughter she replies, " Good- 
ness, no ! I never go shopping on rainy days." 




Adown the frosty course he speeds 
On wings of wind and ringing steeds, 
Of ruts ahead quite unaware 
Until his fiery steeds do rear, 
loo late he cries in mortal terror, 
"Alack ! I've made a glaring error." 
Kind reader, pause ; the moral's solemn- 
Skate slow and save your spinal column. 




your chansonette 

Ees very decoUetS. 

We just pretend to 


Ze naughty things 

you say. 

Your pretty face, 

your chic and 

Hold momentary 

And then we blush 

and bid you 

" Hush I"— 
After you've gone 





He — " I see they 
are again discussing' 
the question, 'What 
shall we do with 
our ex-presidents ?' 


'not the shadow of a doitbt." 

It seems to be a difficult problem." 
That's just like you men ; you are so unpractical in everything. 
If women had a say in the government we would settle it in a jiffy." 
He—" How ?" 
She — " Why, abolish the office of e.x-president, of course." 


Reverend Dr. Boneshake — " A painful rumor hab reached 
me dat Brudder Backslide done got tight yesterday. An' he 
had jes' signed de pledge toe drink nuffin' but watah." 

Deacon Setback (dubiously) — " Mebbe he was watah-tight." 

The charming maid 

Pretends to wade. 

And uses all her arts, 

But not into the sea she wades — 

She wades into our hearts. 


Mike (going by a house that has the mourning symbol 
attached to the door-knob) — " Begorra ! thot's the first 

house Oi ive. "^w 
wearin' a necktoie." 


First artist (pat- 
ronieingly) — ' 'Van 
Dike is a good fel- 
low, but he never 
will be a finished 

Second artist — 
"No; all of his fv^- 
ures are entirely 
too life-like." 


" There's a great 
game of poker go- 
ing on in that side 

"Who's play- 

"A man from 
Pine. Blul' is pitted 
,. against a Council 
\ Bluffer." 


The season now 
Has come, alas ! 

Of oyster-stews and pastry-cooks ; 
She wades not now into our hearts- 
She wades into our pocket-books. 



The Summer Band, 

AGAIN I hear, dear heart, keep still ! 
Flock by yourself, in some retreat ; 
Take to the woods, go chase yourself — 
The band is passing down the street. 

The flags are up, and in the winds 

Then fly the red and white and blue. 

The band plays on ; but. weary heart, 
There's nothing in the air for you. 

An Indian, so the legend runs. 

Will slow up when iie hears a note, 
And grow as docile tlirough and through 
As any home-fed nanny-goat. 

Ah, could he but hear those tunes which 

The street-bands call their summer goods — 
• ' B— d — Ha " and al'. kindred stuff' — 

He'd take instanter to the woods. f. h. b. 

At Larchmont. 

She (shuddering) — " Oh, George ! I just read that all 
vessels have rats on them. Is that so ?" 

He (reassuringly') — " Well, you needn't worry, dear. 
My boat is a cat-boat." 

His Mistake. 

Manhattan — " How on earth did it happen that old 
Rocksby got arrested for highway robbery ?" 

Broadway — " The old fool forgot himself and tried to 
practice as an individual tlie same methods he has always 
used as the head of a corporation." 

' Was your son graduated as a lawyer ?" 
' Well, he thinks so now. He hasn't had a case yet, you know." 

The Ins and Outs. 

4 ^llJOW, James," said the business man to the new office- 
boy, "I want you, the first thing yoii do, to get 
acquainted with the ins and outs of this building, for I will 
want you to run a great many errands from office to 

James bowed politely and left the room, to be gone all 
morning. At last his employer sent another boy in search 
of him. The other boy came back alone. 

" Did you find James ?" asked the man. 

" Yes, sir. He's down stairs, walking around and 
around in one of the whirling doors. Says you ordered 
him to get onto all the ins and outs, and there's no end of 

Winning the Press. 

"THE temperature was rising rapidly under the com- 
mander-m-chief's collar. 
"See here !" he said to the man whose duty it was to 
" fi.\ " the correspondents — in other words, the army press- 
agent. " The other side is getting more ' space ' than we 
are, and the accounts are more favorable, too. If you 
value your job you will have to do something at once." 

The press-agent's pulse quickened as he realized that 
at last it was up to him ; but his face remained imper- 
turbable and, to use a common e.xpression, he thought 
like greased lightning. Presently the lucky inspiration 

" We might advertise the next battle in the papers," he 
suggested nonchalantly. 

" Forgive my hasty words 1" cried the commander-in. 
chief, falling on his neck. 
" I couldn't get along with- 
out you. For this you shall 
! SlfilHIIHIIHIIIillllllllM^ 1 "^^ decorated." 

The Spice of Variety. 

Lady — '• Do you always 
gamble at marbles.'" 

Kit^" Not on yer life, 
lady ! I sometimes plays 
de races an' goes up against 
de cards." 

A Retrospect. 

WHEN I was one-and-lwenty 
How bright the whole 
world shone ! 
The phrase, •• Festina lente," 

Graced not my lexicon. 
'Twas then the muse I'd lasso — 
My captive could not stray — 
And with the soul of Tasso 
Send forth my roundelay. 

Alas ! those visions rosy 

No longer glad my view, 
For now I'm dull and prosy 

And bald at forty-two. 
A wife, six kids — acuter 

The pang grows every day; 
For I'm a poor commuter 

From Hackensack. N. J. 




Clakf.nce— "Ah, Mademoiselle Shakalegge smiled upon me most divinely to-night, you know. 
Jack Bowttown — "Quite likely. She has children of her own." 


" Mr. Clerman," she said softly and tenderly to the 
assistant rector, " I have a very particular favor to ask." 

" I shall be happy to grant it if I can," he replied. 

"On Tuesday next I would like — if you will— for you 
to say a special prayer — the prayer for those who are on 
the sea." 

" Certainly, Miss Richly ; and to what foreign port do 
you sai 

" ' am going to Staten Island. 


TH E table was set with 
daintiest care. 
And the buckwheat cakes- 
were light ; 
Yet the mistress's face had 
a look of pain 
When she took the very 
first bite. 
"These cakes," she cried, 
"have a soapy taste. 
Oh, Bridget ! what have 
you done?" 
" Shure, mum, th' soap- 
shtone griddle is lost. 
So Oi soaped th' other 


Bessie{aged five) — "I'vt 
got two grandmas — 
Grandma Vance and 
Grandma Curr." 

Lucj' (whose mother has 

been married twice) — 

"That's nothing. I've 

got three — Grandma Cook, Grandma Brown and Grandma 


Bessie — " Why, that ain't so. You can't have more than two- 

Luey (drawing herself up proudly) — "Yes, 'tis; we've beeti 
married twice." 

A "pen" picture. 

This is the punishment due the musical genius who on earth bad 
the room next to you, and practised thirteen hours a day. 


- w 


A guzzling gosling observes a busy bumble-bee 




- But the busy bumble-bee obiects. and 

then returns to business again, leaving the 


It Interfered. 

44 UOW did Bluster happen to let all his business get 
' ' away from him ?" asks the sympathetic friend. 
•' Oh," explains the hard-headed acquaintance, " he got 

so busy writing articles on ' how to succeed ' that he didn't 

have time to look after his own affairs." 



iind tries to put him out of business. 

S{\. YiT^ 

-gets extremely busy with the gosling- 


-a sadder but wiser bird. 

Quashing an Alibi. 

Defense advocate — •■ Sir, the officer charged with be- 
ing intoxicated while on duty is above the breath of sus- 

Police commissioner — " Sir, your statement is ill-timed ; 
the accused is even at this moment munching cloves." 


His Title. 

T WAS the twenty-second of February, and Aguinaldo 
sat wrapped in thought. 
" They call me a modern Washington," he mused, 
and it is ceftainly true ; for"— he glanced at his map— 
I get farther off my country every day." 

"THE Light Brigade was making its famous charge. 

"This is bully!" exclaimed the soldiers as they 
rushed smilingly to death. " Seems like the good old col- 
lege-football days." 

With a final ' ' Rah, 'rah, 'rah !" they gave as close an 
imitation as possible of the real thing. 


Grounds for divorce 


HE blew into my law-office like 
a cyclone out of the north- 

" I am Mrs. Tivvers,"she 
said, and shook her curls. 
Those curls may have been 
forty years old, or only 
twenty, depending on where 
she bought them. 

Mrs. Tivvers took a chair 
and, deftly patting her side- 
combs once or twice, cleared 
her throat. " I want a di- 
vorce," she said. Then she 
folded her arms and looked 
at me in triumph. 

" Please state the facts 
briefly," I replied. 
"Well, sir, I don't mind telling you we never — never 
got along well. On the very cay of the wedding a feeling 
came over me that a great mistake had been made. I 
was well aware there would be trouble and told him so. 
He said not to worry and everything would come out all 
right. But what a change came over him after the wed- 
ding ! I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with these 
two eyes. And him so soft and nice when he was court- 
ing, and saying such lovely things about summer skies 
and moons ! That was a year ago." 

I glanced at her curls. " A year ago ?" 
■'Just. But now everything is different. He never 
speaks except to order me out ot his way or to swear at 
me. Oh, I knew it would turn out this way ; I knew it ! 
No longer ago than this very morning he told me I was so 
terribly ugly I ought to be afraid to look in a mirror. 
That's a lie, isn't it ?" 

" Any feeling of fear," I replied, " is cowardly." 
" Of course it is. Do you know, the only thing I blame 
myself for is not having sense enough to put a stop to the 
whole business at the beginning. Heaven knows there 
isn't a woman in all the length and breadth of this broad 
land who's done more for her children than I have. 
There's John — he's dead, poor soul ! and he died so peace- 
ful — you just ought to have seen him. I stood that trial 
well, sir, considering my great loss. And my son, James — 
ah, he's the joy of my heart ! He has been a good son to 
me and is now getting his reward. He's a plumber. And 
he don't drink — not a drop ; not — a — drop !" 

" The divorce " 

" Lizzy," she went on contentedly, " Lizzy's my daugh- 
ter. She lives with us. Of course she don't know I came 
to see a lawyer. Don't you tell her, will you ?" 
" No ; I won't." 
"She thinks I came down town to buy tea; she don't 

know good tea from bad. A nice girl, 1 can tell you 
that, but she don't know much. She gets that trait from 
her father's people, who came of the Johnson stock, and 
everybody knows what a pack of fools they are." 

" Mrs. Tivvers," I interrupted somewhat brusquely, 
" what are the specific grounds for your divorce ?" 

" Grounds ? Why, he called me a liar and swore at 
me. What more do you want ?" 

" That's enough," I replied, " to constitute cruelty under 
the statutes made and provided. But we might, perhaps, 
make a stronger point if we could show violence. Has 
your husband threatened any actual bodily injury ?" 

" My husband ?" 


" My husband ? ' 

" Of course." 

" Didn't I tell you he's been dead these fourteen years ? 
It's not my husband I want the divorce for. Land sakes ! 
what made you think that .' It's Lizzy's husband — ■ 
the worthless rag-picker ! He ain't fit to live. Why,, 
whenever I try to correct him and show him his faults, 
and give him the benefit of twenty-eight years of married 
life and the bringing up of tour children to lead splendid 
lives — except John, poor soul ! — he tells me to go away- 
and shut my face ! I'll stand it no longer. I want a 

" Mrs. Tivvers," I said gently, "you misapprehend the 


" I wish to convey the idea that divorce proceedings 
can be brought only by the husband or wife." 

" You mean Lizzy would have to come down here her- 

" Yes," 

" 'Why, that's the trouble — she won't do it ! Goodness 
me ! I tried hard enough to get her. But she's just that 
wrapped up in him she can't see his faults." 

" Then you had better go back and do the best you: 

" Go back ? Without the divorce ? Me ? Gracious !' 
Peters ! Sakes ! You don't know Elizabeth Tivvers, or 
you wouldn't talk that way. I'll have the law on 'em. 
I'll get a divorce." 

" Not any," I suggested. 

" Ha — so you side in with them, do you ? I suppose 
you're paid to say that — you'd say anything you were paid 
for — everybody knows what lawyers are. But I'll have the 
law on 'em, you see. And I'll find out it a respectable 
woman like me can be insulted by a two-for-a-cent lawyer 
like you ! There's law in this land somewhere, and I'm 
going to get it." 

^ She marched out of my office with firm tread and in- 
quired of a man in the hall the way to a police-station. 


The Sainted Grandmother 

■ i/HEN I was quite a child 
'" My moments were beguiled 

By listening to tales I tliuught were true, 
Of what, in days gone by. 
Ere the world was so awry. 

My wonderful grandmother used to do. 

She stayed at home, they said, 
With her needle and her thread, 

And worked, worked, worked from early mom till 
night ; 
She baked and boiled and stewed, 
Washed and ironed, scrubbed and brewed. 

And did those things (my ma) considered right. 

She went to church, of course, 
Praised the Lord till she was hoarse. 

And always kept her bible in plani view; 
She kept the children clean. 
And she had, I think, tliirteen. 

And often thought (ma says) these were too few. 

The order to "obey" 

Slie considered right, the day 

When grandmother was married long ago ; 
And that (ma says) is quite. 
What slie thinks is, just and right, 

And well for every girl like me to know. 

But now that 1 am grown. 
Spite of ma, I'll have to own. 

That my grandmother's great virtues do not please ; 
For the things that she did do 
I have greatly added to, 

And some, which ma forgot (of course), are these — 

She used to chop the wood. 
Wore an old red-flannel hood. 

And smoked a corn-cob pipe just like a man : 
She fed her kids on mush. 
Spanked them with a shoe or brush, 

And let her husband call her '• Sary Ann." 

She used to milk the cows. 

Pitch the hay down from the mows. 

And trembled when she asked her •' lord" for pelf; 
She made his •■pants" and "jeans," 
Let him boss her ways and means. 

And wore out all his cast-off clothes herself. 

Now I say, without restraint. 
Grandma may have been a saint — 

A ihing I have not doubted all the while ; 
But I guess, in spite of ma, 
You will have to wander far 

Ere you catch this child acquiring grandma's style 


Strange Run of Numbers 

it /^DD how one particular number wiil seem to be con- 
nected with the fate of some particular person, is it 
not ?" asked the man with the incandescent whiskers of 
the man with the underdone nose. 

" Yes," answered the man with the underdone nose. 
" Now, there was Finley Marigger, down our way. He 
was horn on the sixth day of the month, grew to be six 
feet tall, had six children, and died on the sixth day of the 
week, worth six million dollars." 

" Rather strange," said the man with the incandescent 
whiskers ; " but it isn't a circumstance compared to Ten- 
nyson Ten Eycke, a fellow I used to know. He was born 
on the tenth day of the tenth month, in the tenth year 
.after his parents were married. He was always a tender- 
hearted boy, and at ten years of age he lost ten fingers 
and toes altogether by trying to save ten kittens that had 
been thrown in front of a train of ten cars on the tenth 
siding in the railway yards at ten-ten a. m. Ten years 
iater he was married to Tennie Tendall, whose father 
owned ten business blocks, each ten stories high. They 
were divorced in ten weeks, and he married a girl named 
Tenwick, who lived ten miles from TenerifTe. They got 
room ten at a hotel on their bridal-tour, which began on 
the tenth day of the month, and the hotel collapsed at ten 
o'clock at night, and ten hours later they dug them out, 
and she was dead. He mourned her for ten days only, 
and was then married to a widow woman by the name of 
Tengerrow. She eloped with a man named Tennally ten 
minutes after they were married. It went along that way 

until Ten Eycke hail married ten wives, and he was per- 
fectly happy with the tenth." 

" That certainly is remarkable," observed the man with 
the underdone nose. 

"Yes. And in addition to all that Tennyson Ten 
Eycke was the most tender-hearted man you ever knew, 
in spite of his misfortunes. Also, he was the champion 
tennis-player ; but at golf it always took ten strokes for 
him to put the ball in the hole, and as a usual thing he 
lost ten balls in every game. He died ten years ago. hav- 
ing been shot ten times by a man who disputed a debt of 
ten dollars and ten cents." 

The man with the underdone nose cast a glance of 
suspicion at the man with the incandescent whiskers. 

" And," he mused, " I suppose they buried Ten Eycke 
in a grave ten feet deep and ten miles from nowhere, and 
the tender tendrils of ten of the tenderest vines are tenta- 
tively twining over his ten-year-old tomb." 

Then the man with the incandescent whiskers ordered 
some ten-cent cigars, and they smoked for ten minutes. 

A Failing of History. 

Freddie — " Why is it said that history can't l)c written 
until years after the event ? " 

Cobwigger — " Because, my boy, if it was written at the 
time it occurred it would probably be true. " 

Ted — " When she was young she was always running 
after the men." 

Ned — "That explains why she never caught one." 


Little Willie — " It must be awful to be an orphan like 
foa, Jimmy." 

There are two things women are supposed to jump at — 
a mouse and an offer of marriage. 

Jimmy—" Oh, I don't know !" 


Old Mrs. Lantry 

Went to a pantry 
To get her dog something to eat. 

'Twas the first day of Lent, 

No butcher was sent. 
And so the poor dog had no meat. 


The grammar class had had " army " to parse, 
and being of one accord had parsed it as being 
in the masculine gender. 

The long-suffering teacher had for fifteei* 
minutes e.xpended her gray matter in an eloquent 
and logical statement proving to the juvenile in- 
tellect that the horses, arms, accoutrements, 
commissary supplies and other paraphernalia ol 
an army technically 

make it neuter gen- 
der. One budding 
mind refused to be 

■• Well, Harry ?" 

" Please, ma'am, 
do women ever go 
to war.'" 

" N-not very of- 
ten, Harry." 

"And is ' army ' 
always neuter gen- 

"Yes — grammat- 
ically considered." 

" Please, ma'am, 
what gender is 
the s alva t ion 


First drummer — "I've 
just gotten home from my 
first trip west, and I tell yoi» 
Cincinnati is the most wick- 
ed place I ever struck." 

Second drummer^ 
" Yes ; they are thinkiai; 
about changing its name t* 



Z 5 
o -^ - 




The long-legged yap 
from the Jersey high- 
lands bounced around a 
corner into Broadway, 
up from the market re- 
gions, and landed in 
front of a serene and 
majestic policeman. 

"Ah, there!" ex- 
claimed the cop, startled 
by the innovation. 

" Wow !" snorted the 

"What's the matter?" 

" I've been imposed on 
by a chap down the 
street there." 

" Buncoed .'" 

" Worse." 

" What ?" 

"Feller come up 
where I was sellin' truck 
.an' wanted to know ef 
I wanted to see one o' 
them horseless wagons, 
'cause ef I did I'd better 
run round on the next 
street mighty quick. Said it was goin 
hurry. I liked to run a lung out gittin' 
you think I seen .'" 

Ethel — " Who was that man you just bowed to?" 
Penelope — " That was Dobson, the great composer." 
Ethel — "A composer, did you say?" 
Peneloi'E — "Yes ; he manufactures soothing-synip." 

by an' I'd have to 
there, an' what do 

He engaged passage on this ship because they set such a good table. 

■' A horseless wagon, I suppose," responded the officer, 
with that sublime faith in the straightforwardness of the 
city man in his relations to his rural brother which always 

characterizes city men. 

" Yes, but not the kind 
I was thinkin' about," said 
the Jerseyman in deep dis- 
gust. " It wa'n't nothin' 
but a wagon with a pair o' 
mules hitched to it, an' 
dern pore mules at that." 
After weeping a few 
silent tears the policeman 
sought to comfort the vis- 
itor from across the river. 


She told me yesterday she'd 
And now I'm filled with 
No letter 's come. Alas for 
me ! 
She did not say to whom. 


Mrs. Yo II ng bride — 
" Oh, Ferdy ! I believe 
there's a cinder in my 

Mr. Younggroom 
(soothingly) — "Well, dear, 
your 'Nandy will take it 
right out when we get to 
the next tunnel." 

W i 1 1 

Fahey — "Wake er weddin', Kelly ?" 
Kelly (fain/fy) — " Chrishtenin'." 


Drummer — " How did it happen that the amateur dra- 
matic performance, night before last, raised such a large sum 
of money for charity ?" 

Squam Corners merchant — " Why, at the end of the first 
act all the people who had paid fifty cents 
apiece to get in rose and chipped in another 
dollar apiece to have the performance stop 
then and there." 

As you discover the defects in your new 
house don't swear at the contractor. He's 
got the laugh as well as the money, and 
you'd just as well be cheerful too. 


Mr. Montgomer)' 
was making his 
way across the floor 
of a small ball-room 
which he had just 

The room was 
comfortably filled 
with scions of old 
families who were 
enjoying a private 
hop. Mr. Mont- 
gomer)' was attract- 
ing considerable at- 
tention, and he was 
aware of this fact. 

The trouble was that he could not account for it. 

He was a child of a noble race himself, and at 
no time in his life did his inborn dignity shine 
more conspicuously than now. 

He had passed the early part of the evening 
with convivial friends, but he did not connect this 
fact in any way with the interest that was being 
shown in his promenaae. 

Others did, for the truth was that, the night 

being stormy, Mr. Montgomery had raised his 

umbrella previous to his entrance, and was still 

holding this useful article over his head, apparently with the 

idea that its removal would be the ruin of his dress-suit. 


Mrs. McFeegan — 
" Shure Moike, yez black oye 
do be turnin' grane." 

Mr. McFeegan — "An' 
whoy wudn't it ? Oi got it 
from an Oirishmon on Saint 
Patrick's day." 

There is only one path which leads to the house of for- 
giveness — that of understanding. 


First mute — " Why didn't you answer 
me yesterday when I spoke to you from 
across the street ?" 

Second mute — " I couldn't. You had 
passed by before I could get my mittens off 
to speak to you." 

Amicus — " Why have you fastened those iron blocks to your feet ?" 
Mr. C. O. Muter — "lam practicing the suburban resident's e.Tercise. It is 

intended to develop the muscles of the legs so that one can walk about in Jersey 

without getting stuck in the mud." 


placed the necktie knot from un- 
der his left ear and pushed his 
collar down, 

'• Madam, you are mistaken. 
I have never been a duke in Osh- 
kosh. I live here at the junc- 

The woman looked at him as 
though she doubted his statement, 
but let liim go. 

He proceeded to the next seat, 
where a serious-looking man rose 
up and bowed ; the pop-corn man 
also bowed and smiled as though 
he had met him before. Taking 
a paper of pop-corn and putting it 
in his coat-tail pocket, the serious 
man said, 

" I was honestly elected presi- 
dent of the United States in 1876, 
but was counted out by tlje vilest 
conspiracy that everwas concocted 
on the earth, and I believe you are 
one of the conspirators," and he 
spit on his hands and looked the 
pop-corn man in the eye. The pop- 
corn man said he never took any 
active part in politics, and had 
nothing to do with tliat Hayes busi- 
ness at all. Then the serious man 
sat down and began eating pop- 
corn, while two women on the other side of the car also 
helped themselves to the contents of the basket. 

The pop-corn man held out his hand for the money, 
when a man two seats back came forward and shook 
hands with him, saying, 

" They told me that you would not come, but you have 
noticed the fine old gentlenian who comes into the car come, Daniel, and now we will fight it out. I will take 
with a large, square basket, peddling pop-corn. He is one 
<»t the most innocent and confiding men in the whole 
world. He is honest and he believes that everybody else 
is honest. 

He came up to the depot with his basket, and seeing 
the train, he asked Pierce, the landlord there, what train it 
was. Pierce, who is a most diabolical person, told the old 
gentleman that it was a load of members of the legisla- 
ture and female lobbyists going to Madison. The pop- 
corn man believed the story, and went into the car to sell 

Stopping at the first seat, where a middle-aged lady 
was sitting alone, the pop-corn man passed out his basket that crowd was going to the legislature. 

Si — "Say. Clem, what 's this ol' joke about a hen crossiii' the road? Why does she?" 
Clem — "Well, fust, because slie wants to get on the other side. Second, because she 

don't want to stay on the side slie 's on any longer, and lastly, because you 're after her for a 

mess o' pot-pie." 

A Lively Train-load. 

I AST week a train-load of insane persons was re- 
moved from the Oshkosh asylum to the Madison 
asylum. As the train was standing on the side track at 
Watertown junction it created consitlerable curiosity. 
People who have ever passed Watertown junction h,ive 

this razor and you can arm yourself at your leisure." The 
man reached into an inside pocket of his coat, evidently 
lor a razor, when the pop-corn man started for the door, 
his eyes sticking out two inches. 

Every person he passed took a paper of pop-corn ; one 
man grabbed his coat and tore one tail off, another took 
his basket away, and as he rushed out on the platform the 
basket was thrown at his head, and a female voice said, 
" I will be ready when the carriage calls at eight." 
As the old gentleman struck the platform and began 
to arrange his toilet he met Fitzgerald, the conductor, who 
asked him what was the matter. He said Pierce told him 

and said, 

" Fresh pop-corn !" 

The lady took her foot down off the stove, looked at 
the man a moment with eyes glaring and wild, and said, 

" It is— no, it catmot be — and yet it is me long-lost 
duke of Oshkosh," and she grabbed the old man by the 
necktie with one hand and pulled him down into the seat, 
and began to mow pop-corn into her mouth. 

" But," says he, as he picked some pieces of paper 
collar out of the back of his neck, " if those people are not 
delegates to a Democratic convention, then I have been 
peddling pop-corn on this road ten years for nothing, and 
don't know my business." 

Fitz toltl him they were patients going to the insane- 

The old man thought it over a moment, and then he 

The pop-corn man blushed, looked at the rest of the picked up a coupling-pin and went looking for Pierce. 

Dassengers to see if tiiey were looking, and said, as he re- Jambs H. Kirk, Hustontown, Pennsylvania. 

'^ ' 

A Philadelphia Ghost 

By William J. Lampton 

T WAS a girl who was talking. 

When a girl talks she sojiietimes 
says things, and she sometimes does 

The heroine of this small chroni- 
cle was saying something. 

It had goose-flesh bumplets all 
over it, and made the trembling 
listener feel the snivers down his 
spine and gave him the nervous 

It was in the way she told it, and 
cannot be transferred successfully to 

As far as may be interpreted, her 
story ran in this wise : 

" Oh, girls !" she said breath- 
lessly, " you know Philadelphia, and 
how staid and demure it is ? You 
never would think of seeing a ghost 
there, would you ?" 

" If we did," ventured one of the maidens, " it would 
wear a drab suit and a poke bonnet. Wouldn't that be 
the funniest ghost that ever walked ?" 

A young actress, a few weeks on the road and home 
again, sighed. 

" But this one wasn't," continued the narrator. " How- 
ever, let me go on with my story. It was in December 
and at a house in one ot the beautiful by-towns ot 
the Quaker City, though part of it, and there was a 
houic-party of us. We were ten in all, and the second 
evening the eleventh came in the person of a tall, gangling 
Herr Professor, only long enough in this country to try to 
speak English and wonder why polite people smiled and 
the other kind laughed right out. The weather had been 
delightful for a week before our coming, and it was very 
pleasant, as early December often is, up to the day after 
the prolessor came." 

" Were you camping in the street ?" inquired a precise 
young woman who seemed to have lost a cog from the 
continuity of the story. 

"Of course not," twittered the fair raconteuse. "I 
became so iaterested in my theme that 1 forgot the links 
of it. We had our house-party in a house, and it was one 
of those quaint old houses that have funny little windows, a 
big brass knocker on the front door, and — a ghost chamber. 
If there is anything that is absolutely necessary in a house 
like that to complete its character it is a ghost chamber. 
This one was complete, and I had the ghost chamljer. It 
was my choice, too; for, if 'there is one thing more than 
another that I was utterly destitute of, it was a belief in 
ghosts. A mouse could play more havoc with my nervous 
system in a minute than all the ghosts could in weeks and 
weeks. 1 never would have gone into that room if I had 
been told it was the uncanny custom of a mouse to 

wander there through the night watches and address itself 
to any intruder who dared to pass the night near its 
haunts. But a ghost was different. I defied ghosts,, 
great and small. This chamber was in a wing of the 
house some distance from the rooms occupied by the 
others of the party, w'hich made it more interesting." 

Three girls simultaneously shuddered and murmured,. 

" When the Herr Professor came there wasn't any 
place for him except up stairs over the wing in a little 
room at the end of the hall, and the way to get there 
passed my door. But of course the professor didn't know 
this. He knew he had to pass a door, but he didn't know 
whose it was. Indeed, he didn't know it was anybody's, 
because when he came the door was open as if the room 
were unoccupied, for I was off for that night and a day 
with some cousins in town. The servants always left the 
room open, so as to give the ghostly haunt a thorough 
airing — as if ghosts cared about ventilation. I did not re- 
turn until nine o'clock in the evening, and just as I came 
in the whole crowd was laughing over the Herr Professor 
and the odd kind of a man he was. As for him, he had 
retired to his room in the wing to rest. We had a jolly 
time until eleven o'clock, and though the girls tried to 
coax me to stay with them, I insisted on going in with the 
ghosts. They tried to frighten me as I went along the 
hall, but I was brave and reached my room safely. There 
nothing disturbed me, of course. Nothing ever does when 
one is good and brave, I thought, and I went to sleep 
without so much as locking my door. 

•• Now comes the queer part of my story " — several of 
the listeners showed signs ot being glad a climax was in 
sight. " It must have been two o'clock in the morning 
when 1 was awakened by the wind blowing, and I felt that 
it had grown very much colder. It was so cold, in fact, 
that I was compelled to get up and take out an extra 
blanket which had been provided for just such a change, 
for one never knows what is June and what December in 
this climate. As far as ghosts were concerned, I never 
thought of them. The cold floor I had to walk on to the 
closet where the blanket was gave me more trouble. 
That is, I didn't think of ghosts at first, but ghosts are 
peculiar, so I had been told, and this particular one was 
no exception. When I jumped back into the warm place 
in bed and cuddled up under the extra blanket, I hadn't 
more than begun to enjoy it when I heard a strange noise. 
It was as soft as a velvet footfall and came from I knew 
not where. As the wind blew in fiercer blasts I would 
lose the sound, but it came again with the lull and seemed 
to fill the whole room. A little light came through the 
windows from a pale and sickly moon, and I could see 
faintly, but it revealed nothing. The presence was audi- 
ble, not visible. Finally the sound stopped at my door, 
and then for the first time I became nervous, and in aa 
instant frightened. I shivered under the blanket which 


had been so nice and warm a minute before, and, not 
knowing what else to do, I sat up in bed and stared at the 
door, which I knew was not locked. I could barely make 
it out, lor what light came in was from the windows on 
my side of the room, and I was in the dark. A great 
blast of wind shook the house and just at that moment 
the door began to open slowly. 

" There is nothing, I think, quite so disturbing to one's 
nerves as to see a door coming open slowly when you 
■don't know what makes it do it. I don't know why I 
didn't think it was a burglar, but I didn't. I knew there 
were such things as burglars, and I was quite as certain 
there were no ghosts, l)ut I thought now only of ghosts. 
But I was not allowed to think long about anything. The 
door swung wide, and there, gray and grim and fearful in 
the shadows, stood a figure all in misty white, as high 
as the door, it seemed to me, and peering curiously into 
the room. What else could it do but gaze in the direction 
of the intruder on its sacred domains, and what else 
would it do but follow its stony stare ? The thought 
of it nearly deprived me of what little sense I had left, but 
enough remained to prompt me to hide myself, if possible, 
and I sank quietly back among the pillows and waited for 
the dreadful thing to do its worst. Goodness knows why 
I didn't faint, but I didn't. I tried to scream, but, like a 
nightmare, it took away all power, and I lay shivering and 
still. In the meantime the shape had been coming nearer, 
and I began to think I could feel its cold breath on my 
face as I lay there unable to turn away from it. At last 
it came to the foot of the bed, where it stopped ami lifted 
its hands, as ghosts do, as if groping for something beyond 
its reach. Then suddenly it caught the covering on the 
bed, and with a sudden swish of it I was left with only a 
sheet over me, and the ghostly visitant stalked silently out 
of the room as mysteriously as it had come. 

" By this time I was frightened almost into spasms, but 
I did not want to alarm the house, and especially my 
hostess, who was dreadfully nervous. So, after freezing 
for some time, I was brought sufficiently back to the phys- 
ical world to realize that I would catch pneumonia where 
I was, and I mustered up courage enough to get out ot 
bed and light my lamp. I was afraid to go into the hall, 
but I wasn't afraid to lock the door and slide all the mov- 
able furniture against it, which I did. Then I built up a 
roaring fire in the big old-fashioned grate, and having put 
on all the clothing I could find, and wrapping myself in 
all the rugs in the room, I curled up on the sofa and felt 
more comfortable. Light and warmth have a very bene- 
ficial effect on ghost-shaken systems. The ghost, though, 
was not explained away, and I was wondering how I was 
going to tell the hostess in the morning, or whether I 
should tell her at all, or not. Thinking it all over I went 
to sleep in my rugs, and when 1 opened my eyes again it 
was broad day and the maid was knocking at my door. 
I let her in through the barricade'as best I could and told 
her nothing, though I could see she was very curious and 
every now and then looked over her shoulder nervously, 
as if she expected to see something that would not be 
pleasant to the sight. I explained to her that the lock 
would not hold and that the wind was so strong the door 
came open during the night until I barricaded it. That 
was true enough, too, for it did come open. 

" When I went down to breakfast my appearance 
called forth all kinds of queries, and there were repeated 
questions as to whether or not the ghost had visited me. 
If not, whatever could be the matter, they insisted. 1 
know I looked a sight, as they say in the rural districts, 
and I think I must have felt as I have heard young fellows 
say they did the morning after, but I evaded direct expla- 
nations as best I could. The persecution stopped only 
when the Herr Professor came down and we all went into 
the breakfast-room. Then the conversation turned upon 
the sudden change in the weather during the night, and 
our hostess was very solicitous about the comfort of her 
guests. The girls were secondary to the Herr Professor, 
however, and before any of us could say anything, the 
hostess directed her inquiries to him. He smiled effusively 
and bowed low over his plate. He talked and made a 
dozen protestations a minute that he had slept delightfully. 
I don't know what he didn't say, and 1 wouldn't, for the 
world, try to say it as he did ; but out of it all I gathered 
the startling information that when he first awoke he was 
very, very cold, but he remembered the room below was 
unoccupied, and he had noticed that there was plenty ot 
cover on the bed there, and when he was fully awake he 
had slipped down stairs in his nightie as quiet as a very 
little mouse, so as to disturb no one, and had taken the 
covers off and carried them to his own room, where he 
found them ample for his most delightful and refreshing 
sleep in the elegant mansion of his most charming hostess. 

" There was a lot more of the same Ollendorff method 
of telling a thing," concluded the girl, " but I didn't want 
to hear a word of it. And I didn't tell a soul in that 
house-party a single thing about ghosts, either, until the 
Herr Professor was a thousand miles away and the rest of 
us were separating to go to our homes. The horrid 
w-retch ! and why I didn't think of him first, for the life ot 
me I can't understand, unless there is a ghost really there 
and I was under its baneful influence. Ugh !" 

" Ugh !" echoed all the others, but it wasn't very 

Fame Is Up to Date. 

CAME lures us on with beckoning hand, but we affect 
to spurn the invitation. 

" Come," Fame pleads. " Life for you shall be made 
joyous. You shall have a bed of roses." 

Still we demur. At this Fame becomes practical. 

" Look here," Fame says ; " take that bed of roses and 
sleep on it thirty nights. If you don't say that it is the 
best bed you ever had I'll pay the return freight on it." 

After that there was nothing for us to do but to hike 
along the path of glory, was there ? 

Why She Wept. 

H OUT, my dear," protests the young husband, " you 


have paid fifty-six dollars for this Easter bon- 
net, when I asked you not to exceed twenty-five." 

" Yes, love," she explains ; " but, don't you see, the 
fifty-six-dollar one was marked down from seventy-two, 
and the twenty-five-dollar ones were only marked down 
from thirty. I saved sixteen dollars instead of only five. 
You — you ought to commend me instead of — boo-hoo ! — 
of — of scolding me." 





IDWINTER— br-r-r-th biting blast ! 
Old Boreas shows his hand at last — 
A flush of spades drawn from cold 

A case of freeze-out in the neck. 

His mild appearance is a frost, 

He hugs the hobo tempest-tossed. 

Alas ! poor men, we have our troubles. 

When he blows round — get out your shovels 

And Klondike forth in wintry rig 

And, saying little. Simply dig 

The silent snowdrop fallen down 

Upon your portion of the town; 

And cleaning that hold not aloof, 

There's more to juggle on your roof ; 

And finished that — you've yet more woes. 

You e'en must dig a path for clothes, 

For wifey says, in her sweet way, 

It must be made — it's washing day. 

And adding, with most fiendish smirk. 

How much she loves to see you work. 

Your answer — wc must not comment 

Till snow again, you may repent. 


I Klondiker — "Hallo! 
There's the smallest tent I've seen 
in the diggin's. As it seems to be 
inhabited 1 guess I'll knock 


" Yes," said the widow; "I shall 
paint the house yellow for dear 
George's sake. He liked the color, 
and — and you know he died of 
liver trouble." 

Love is the most peculiar thing 

You ever heard about. 
For often when you've fallen in 

You very soon fall out. 


and see who owns the fire in there. 

" Oh, Clarence ! " ex- 
claimed Mrs. McBride 
as her brother entered 
the house. " baby's cut 
a tooth." 

" Why do you let her 
play with Icnives .'" asked 
the unimpressed bache- 
lor brother. 


Bobby — " If God sends 
babies round why didn't 
mamma pick out a pret- 
tier one ?" 

Paul — " 'Cause I 
s'pose she knew beggars 
shouldn't be choosers." 


Where can a man get shingles 
for the roof of his mouth } 

How can you dam a creek in 
your back ? 

Where can a man get a key to 
fit a lock of his hair.' 

Or a strap for the drutm of his 

How do they build the bridge 
of the nose } 

What jewels do you wear in the 
crown of your head .'' 

How deep is the pit of your 
stomach ? 

Where can a man buy a cap 
for his knee } 

How can you sharpen the blade 
of your shoulder, or take a tip ot the 
finger, or tell a crook of the elbow, 
or catch the sole of your foot ? 

MiNliR — " Oh, dear ; if I eat the candle I'll 
freeae to death. If I don't eat it I'll starve to 

Phwat is th' politic- 
kle sitivation, is it ? It's 
phwat we're all afther, 
me b'y. 

III. The occupant of the tent {<j secona 
later) — " Mornin', stranger. Derned cold, ain't it ?" 


King of Unadilla and the Fair Maid 

By Howard R. Oaris 

DDS turnips !" exclaimed the 
king of Unadilla, monarch ot 
that merry realm where the only 
concern of the ruler was to de- 
vise ways and means for prevent- 
ing Father Time from foreclos- 
ing his mortgage. " Odds tur- 
nips ! But affairs are far from 
keen. Send for the drawer of 
the corks ; let the master of the 
merry grape-stained maidens 
attend us ; summon the purveyor 
of pilsner and let us see if we 
cannot loosen things up a bit. 
They are a trifle too tight." 

Somewhat absently, it may 
have been, the king put his hand 
to his head, for there had been elevated capers at the 
royal rathskeller the previous evening. 

•• It shall be done as you desire, your e.xtreme ele- 
vated top-loftiness," said the secretary of the interior, who, 
in plain language, was the cook— the title having been con- 
ferred on him when he asked for a raise of salary. The 
king remarked that it came cheaper and conveyed no 
false im))ression at that. The secretary of the interior, 
bowing low, went from the presence. 

" How is tlie imperial imposition this morning ?" 
asked the lord of the cash-box, as the secretary emerged 
from the gold-;ind-ivory audience chamber. 

"Seems to be feeling a little frazzled around the edges, 
and a little under-done inside," replied the secretary of 
the interior. 

" Hadn't ought to, seeing he won one dollar and thirty- 
seven cents from me last night," commented the lord of 
the cash-box. ■• I've got to sneak out the crown jewels 
and put them to soak, so's to be able to get through the 
week until pay-day. But what's doing ?" 

" He wants excitement !" exclaimed the secretary. 
" Says things are tight. Needs some new kind of dope, is 
the way I pipe it off." 

"Can't get any results from the old brand of absinthe 
and laudanum, eh ? Where do you suppose he'll break 
out next ?" asked the lord of the cash-box. 

" Well, he's sent for the drawer of the corks, and after 
the stuff gets to working he may propose a trip to the 
moon or a voyage to the north pole. It depends on how 
it operates." 

It was not long before those connected with the court 
of Unadilla were put out of suspense. The king sent out 
word that he was going to hold a cabinet meeting, and 
when the attaches were in attendance each one endeavored 
to avoid taking a seat in the first row. For sometimes 

it was not wise to come directly under the monarch's 
gaze. Gloomily the king of Unadilla looked over his 

" You're worse than a lot of petrified cave-dwellers of 
the stone age," he began, " and as for those dried-up 
mummies of the Rameses brand, they were ace-high 
compared to this bunch. You ha'ven't any more ideas 
than the colored sections of a Sunday newspaper. Why, 
even a graft scandal, that would need investigation by a 
special legislative committee, would be exciting compared 
to the present state of things. 

■' I've got to be recreated, that's all there is to it," the 
ruler continued. " If you folks can't earn your salaries 
you can hand in your resignations and we'll start a new 
political party." 

'■ But," your serene impressiveness," broke in the sec- 
retary of the interior. "But" 

" But me no buts," exclaimed the king, and he felt 
better at having quoted some author, though he couldn't 
tell whether it was Shakespeare or B. Shaw. " If you 
can't think up something funny, don't come in, ' went on 
the monarch. " 111 tell you what it is. I'll give this 
bunch three days to get up a new card, and if there's 
nothing doing in three days— why it's all of you to the 
axe," and the king lighted a cork-tipped cigarette that 
smelled like a Chinese joss-stick and indicated that the 
audience was at an end. 

There were bitter murmurings throughout the court. 
Each official felt he had been badly treated, and there 
was harshness in the hearts of several toward the king. 
Two days passed, but, think as they did, no one at the 
court could evolve anything that they dared broach to 
their royal master. 

Each one wore an anxious look. On the morning of 
the third day the drawer of the corks was observed dan- 
gling his leet in the limpid waters of the moat and chuck- 
ling heartily from time to time. 

" What's up ?■' growled the master of the merry grape- 
stained maidens, who was walking off a headache on the 
drawbridge ; "you seem tickled." 

" I be," replied the drawer of the corks, not look- 
ing up. 

"You might be thinking up something to hand out to 
his malevolent murkiness at the audience a few hours 
hence, instead of cohortling there by your lonesome," 
grunted the master of the merry grape-stained maidens. ' 

" Twenty-three for yours," lilted the drawer of the 
corks. " I've got it right here," and he held up a red- 
bound volume. It was the " Arabian Nights Entertain- 
ments." " Say, listen here," proceeded the drawer of the 
corks. " I need your help. Have you a young and beau- 
tiful maid- n in your troupe ?" 

" 1 have ; several." 

" We need but one fair maid. Now give me your 

Thereupon the two conversed at some length, chuck- 
ling at times until it was the hour to attend the audience 
with the king of Unadilla. 

'< Don't you think he deserves something for being so 
hard on us ?" asked the drawer of the corks, in answer to 
a question and objection from the master of the merry 
grape-stained maidens. 

" Yes ; but how are you going to work it ?" 
'• Easy. Listen. I hand him some talk about a chap 
in this book that used to go out nights and wander about 
the city looking for adventures." 
" Well r 

"Well, his conglomerated cantankerousness will want 
to follow suit." 

" Well ?" 

"Well, we'll furnish an adventure made to order. A 
young and beautiful maid is observed in distress on the 
public street. You '11 have to attend to that part of it. 
His noble niblets comes along. He sees her. He tries 
to console her. Near by will be a husky chap — an old- 
time prize-fighter will answer nicely." 

" Well ?" 

" Well, as soon as his Don Ouixoteness starts in to 
hand out a bunch of honeymoon talk to the afflicted dam- 
sel, the husky guy spouts something about his girl being 
insulted and sails in — biff ! bang !" 

" But he won't kill the king ?" , 

" No— but " 

And the drawer of the corks and the master of the 
merry grape-stained maidens smiled gleefully. 

Then they separated. They did not see at the em- 
brasure in the parapet above them a face that looked 
down. Nor did they hear a chuckle that might have 
come from a kingly chest. Otherwise they might not 
have been as cheerful as they were. 

Later they had an interview with a youth who dis- 
ported a protruding lower jaw. 

" Coitenly, gents," said the youth. " I un'stand. I'm 
to mix it up when he takes de goil. No, no ; I won't be 
toohard on 'im. T'anks. Keep th'choinge, eh ? T'anks." 

" Well," growled the morose monarch an hour later, 
when he called the amusement-suggesting audience to- 
gether, " have any of you something in your think-tanks ?" 

" I have a plan that may serve to while away a few 
dull hours," thus boldly spake the drawer of the corks. 

" What is it, son of a toad ?" inquired the king. 

" Hast ever heard of Caliph Haroun Alraschid ?" 

"Caliph half-round all rancid, did you say ?" 

" That may be the way to pronounce it, but it's spelled 
dilTerent," said the drawer of the corks. 

" Never heard of him," said the king. " What assem- 
bly district is he from ?" 

" He's a man in a book," replied the drawer of the 
corks. Thereupon that official proceeded to relate the 
story of the sporty caliph, telling how he was wont to 
go about the precincts of his capital in disguise, looking 
for any adventures that might happen his way. And as 
the drawer of the corks talked, behold ! a light came into 

the eyes ot the king of Unadilla, and his face became 
more cheerful. 

" Odds toothpicks !" he cried. " We'll do it. Keep 
my intentions secret. Order me a disguise at once. We'll 
sally forth this very night. Your heads are safe now. 
The drawer of the corks has constructed excellently. 
What ho '. Bring me a flagon of red wine, that I may 
drink to the success of our venture." 

And the king drank. 

The drawer of the corks nudged the master of the 
merry grape-stained maidens in the short ribs, but the 
monarch of Unadilla saw it not. 

Just after the royal repast that evening the king had 
an interview with a husky youth who had been summoned 
to the back door of the palace, and who seemed much 
confused at the first words the king spoke. Later, how- 
ever, he chuckled in glee and went off" rattling something 
in his trousers pocket. 

It was dusk when the ruler, disguised as a dead-game 
sport, with a big diamond in his shirt, and accompanied 
by the drawer of the corks and the master of the merry- 
grape-stained maidens, sallied forth across the draw- 
bridge and wended his way toward the city of Unadilla. 
The streets were crowded with merry-makers, and though 
the king glanced nervously from side to side, fearing he 
might be recognized, none penetrated his disguise. The 
three wandered on. At times gay youths called to them, 
and more than one fair maid glanced with welcoming eyes 
at the nifty-lool<ing sport whose appearance indicated that 
he had a good-sized roll. But there was no promise of 
adventure and the king passedon. 

Suddenly there was a little commotion in one of the 
streets of the porterhouse district. A croud gathered, 
and the king, attracted by the throng, pushed his way 
toward the centre. The drawer of the corks and the 
master of the merry grape-stained maidens followed. 
Catching sight of something, the drawer of the corks said, 
" Here's the game. Get ready to duck when Eat-'em- 
up Jack begins to hand out a few to his elevated elegance 
for butting in. Watch the royal robustness go down like 
he was the king-pin on a bowling-alley during a cham- 
pionship game." 

A strange sight met the king's gaze. A beautiful 
maiden, with wondrous brown eyes, stood in the midst of 
the curious throng. In one hand she held a silver chafing- 
dish that contained the ingredients of a Welsh rabbit, 
while her other fingers grasped a bottle of beer. On the 
maid's face was a look of horror, and in a voice that 
would have been thrilling and loving had it not been full 
of anguish, she sobbed, 

" Cruel ! Cruel ' Cruel !" 

Then she made as if to pour the beer from the bottle 
into the chafing-dish, but stopped midway to repeat, 
"Cruel! Cruel! Cruel!" 

" Prithee, but, by my halidom ! it seemeth there is 
need of a king's service here," quoth the monarch of 
Unadilla softly, so that only his two retainers heard him. 
" It appeareth there may be some knightly advancement 
to be gained here. Let us see. Give way, knaves and 
varlets !" 

" For gracious sake, don't talk like that ! You'll give 


the game away and disclose your identity," whispered the 
drawer of the corl<s. " Remember you are a sport. Talk 
like one ! Act like one !" 

"Oh, yes ; I forgot," said the king. Then he went on, 
" Now, youse mugs, twenty-three for youse. Let me in. 
See ! Wot's th' matter wid th' loidy ?" 

The crowd, at the sound of the commanding voice, 
opened for the king. 

" Wot is it, miss ?" asked the monarch. 

"Cruel ! Cruel ! Cruel !" she answered. 

"Who is cruel? Who's been abusing of you? Tell 
me, an' 111 — an' I'll knock his block off." 

Thus spake the king. 

"Cruel ! Cruel ! Cruel !" 

Thus spake the maiden. 

" Where's Eat-'em-up Jack ?" asked the master of the 
merry grape-stained maidens of the drawer of the corks. 
" I thought he was to be on hand to hand out his noble 
niblets a few upper-cuts." 

"There he is, standing by the man in the light coat," 
answered the drawer of the corks, indicating a short, 
stout youth who was chewing a toothpick fiercely. " He'll 
begin right away. I cautioned him not to be too hasty 
and not to hit too hard." 

Once more the maiden spake, 

"Cruel! Cruel! Cruel!" 

She shook the chafing-dish. 

" Can I be of any help to youse ?" went on the king 
eagerly. "Tell me who the caitiff is ?" 

" Oh !" sobbed the fair maid. " Do you see this beau- 
tiful chafing-dish ?" 

" Yes, yes," said the king eagerly. " I see it." 

" And do you see this beer ?" 

" I do. Hasten and tell me all !" 

" Cruel ! Cruel ! Cruel !" 

" Oh, cut it " began the king, and then stoppeo. 

" And do you see this beautiful Welsh rabbit ? " went 
on the maiden. 

" I .-ee." 

"Oh, it is horrible ! He said — he said" 

" What did he say ?" inquired the king, all of a 

" He said it was rotten ! Cruel ! Cruel ! Cruel !" and 
the maiden sobbed. 

" Come with me," said the king, a la Caliph Haroun 
Alraschid. " This must be looked into. I will take you 
hence — far away from this staring crowd. In the morn- 
ing you must attend at my divan — but I forgot " He 

turned to his two followers and whispered, " You tell her 
after I have left her. Follow us at a distance," and, plac- 
ing his arm about the beautiful maiden, the king started 
to lead her away. 

" Oh ! Cruel ! Cruel ! Cruel !" sobbed the maid, drop- 
ping her chafing-dish and the bottle of beer, which fell 
with a foaming crash to the pavement. " Cruel ! Cruel ! 
Cruel !" 

Several of the crowd evidently thought the sport had 
harmed the maid, and, unaware of the royal presence, 
there were ominous mutterings. 

" Call the police !" suggested one. 

" oreak his head !" advised another. 

"Patent pumpKins and summer squash! Why don't 
that husky guy ot yours sail in, according to instructions ?" 
asked "the master of the merry grape-stained maidens. 
" Is he going to see his giil carried off?" 

" Look out 1 Watch him !" called the drawer of the 
corks suddenly. " There he goes !" 

And, true enough, there the tough mutt did go, but 
not exactly as planned. He blocked the path of those 
who were about to follow the king of Unadilla and the 
beautiful maiden, struck an attitude of defiance, and 

" Back to the tall tree-trunks ! Back, or I'll lash you to 
your dog houses — kennels, I mean." He raised his fist in 
the air, glanced at some writing on a paper in his hand, 
and declaimed, 

" ' Who touches a hair ot yon gray head dies like a dog. 
March on ! he said.' " 

And the populace fell back awed. 

The drawer of the corks and the master of the merry 
grape-stained maidens hastily followed the king. They 
,saw him in advance, still attending the fair maid. 

" What happened ?" asked the drawer of the corks. 

" Don't ask me," said the master of the merry grape- 
stained maidens. 

" I thought you had the thing cinched." 

" I thought so, too." 

They were now up to the king. 

"Tell her to attend in the morning," said the king, 
moving away. 

" Oh, I'm wise, all right," said the fair maid suddenly, 
winking one eye. She stood in the glare of an electric 
light, and at tlie sight of her face the master ol the merry 
grape-stained maidens started. 

" Suffering snapdragons !" he e.xclaimed ; " that isn't 
Eunice at all ! It's Enid !" 

" Of course it's Enid," laughed the maid. " Eunice 
was sick. She told me about the little game you wanted 
to play and got me to take her place. Just like an opera, 
wasn't it ?" 

.. Lii<e " began the drawer of the corks, and then 


He and the master of the merry grape-stained maidens 
were wondering what happened to spoil the arrangements 
with the husky guy. 

" Are you sure you saw him ?" asked the master of the 
aforesaid maidens. 

" Sure." 

" Then I guess the royal rambler saw him last," com- 
mented the master. 

In the distance there was the noise of hilarity. A 
sound as of a man trying to bear up under a heavy bundle 
and sing at the same time was borne on the wind. Then 
along came the husky guy, muttering joyfully, 

" Great ish zhe king Unadiller. Fo.xy feller give me a 
five-spot t' soak his nibs the king. King gives me a ten- 
spot not to soak him an' recite a little poetry. ' Who 
touches a hair ot yon gray head dies like a dog. March on. 
he said.' Long (hie) live (hie) zhe (hie) king of Unadiller !" 

" Penetrated by the business end ot a bumble bee !" ex- 
claimed the master of the merry grape-stained maidens. 

" Exactly. Stung !" said the drawer of the corks. 


There wuz a farrmer an' 
his name wuz Brown, an' 
he hod a man wurrking fer 
him an' his name wuz Kel- 
ly ; an' wan noight whin 
Kelly wint out t' lock oop 
the barm, he run into th' 
farrmer, an' th' farrmer wuz 
a-hangin' by his nick to a 
bame wid a buggy-trace, 
an' Kelly cut th' trace an' 
picked oop th' farrmer an' 
carried him into th' house 
an' run tin moiles fer a 
docther ; an" he got will, 
an' sid he'd niver commit suicide agin ; an' whin Kelly 
left him fer t' go t' wurrk in another place he counted 
th' wages thot th' farrmer give him an' found it wuz 
two darlers shy, an' he sid, " How is this, Misther 
Brown? Me pay is two darlers shy." And the farr- 
mer sid, " Whoy, Kelly, don't yez remimber th' buggy- 
trace yez cut thot noight? Oi'm a-takin' it out av 
yure wages." 


Jasper — " What do you think 
Howells meant when he spoke 
about one of his characters being 
a 'hen- minded' 

Jumpitppe — " Oh, 
I guess he meant 
that she never 
thought about any- 
thing except her own 

Woman poses — 
.•and man proposes. 


Farmer Greene — " I daon't know what ther deuce tew make aout 
o' aour new colored neighbor, Peleg. I think he's plumb loony." 

Peleg — " Haow's thet ?" 

Farmer Greene — " Wa-al, tew be friendly like, sez I tew him this 

mornin', ' Haow's 
craps, neighbor ?' 'So- 
so,' sez he, pullin' aout 
three little dices. 
' Wud yo' laik toe min- 
gle de bones wid me 
dis mawnin' ?' Naow 
what dew yew think o' 
thet ?" 

A MAN will spend 
three dollars for a 
box of cigars and 
then laugh at a girl 
for buying a five- 
cent package of 


Th* baby of the egglet 

He opens wide his eyes ; 
The rabbit cocks his wondering ears — 

A mutual surprise. 
What freaks the hens are wont to play 
On every Resurrection day ! 

Schwillbaum (whose si^At isn't good) — " Mein frient, I neffer gif you all der peer you gan trink any more for den cendts. Yoi> 
haf too roooch gabacity. You gant vork me fer no chump some more alretty." 

'T > 

• » o 

50 > P3 

2 ^ Z 

s —a 

s ° s 

ffl -J T3 

S 2 S 

1 I I 

7 3 

-S; P 

(Ti Cfl O 

P Q &J 

— 2 o 


JF I were a fish I would wiser be, 
I'd live in the ground instead 
of the sea ; 
Then I needn't look 
When a bite I took, 
But have plenty of worms without 
any hook. 


Oldest inhabitant — " I sup- 
pose it was the same old story 
— not a drop of blood shed on 
either side." 

Constant reader — " Oh, yes, 
there was. The crowd lynched 
them both." 

" Throw me a rope, quick ! I'm drowning !" 
Pat—" All roight, I'll 


Vivian, aged four, going to church with a 
friend, had had his first glimpse of episcopacy 
and its forms that morning. 

"Well, darling, how did you like it.'" inquired 
his mother. 

" Oh, it was niceth !" (His most rapturous 
lorm of expression.) 

" What did they do, dear.'" 

■" Oh — a — um — first the man stood up and 
talked a long time to God, and — a — um — then 
all the little boysh wif white sings on them stood 
up and said — ' Aw-w-there I' " 


It's only wan thrue frind Oi hov in all th' 
woide wurld, an' his name 's Dinnis McGar\'ev. 

Whin a crank's talkin' poli- 
tics t' yez 'tis th' bist way t' hear 
nothin' ye 're listenin' to. 

-throw yez it 

Knocked-out pugilist (fainlh) — " Wuz me wife in de gallery? Are yer sure ?" 
Bottle-holder — "Yes ; why ?" 
Knocked-out pugilist — " Are yer sure dat it wuzn-t her dat wuz in de ring wid me ?" 


Boy {undressing) — "Ain't yer a- 
goin' ter take yer clothes off afore yer 
go in ?" 

Boy {dressed) — "Wot! an' git 
'em. stole?" 


Triwet — " Miss Tenspot takes a 
great interest in politics." 

Dicer — " Does she .'" 

Tri^met — " She has had her new 
shirt-waist trimmed with campaign 


Lost — A satchel containing the 
manuscript of a book on temper- 
ance, a promissory note for one 
hundred dollars, and a small flask. 
If the finder will return the flask, 
with its contents, he may keep the 
other articles for his trouble. 


'S. U =i 

m 3 



-V n 



First Come, First Served; 

Or, the Woes of 
By L. H. 

Mr. Whittier J. Nippy. 
Mrs. Whittier J. Nippy (his wife). 

Lady-shoppers (real ladies, mind you). 


(The Nippy Home. Morning.) 

Mrs. Nippy — " Dear, I'll have to ask you to do a little 

shopping for me to-day. I want a spool of darning-cotton, 

a pound of salted almonds, a dozen pairs of shoe-laces, a 

box of tacks and a yard of oilcloth. I don't liUe to trouble 

you, dear, but " 

Air. Nippy — " No trouble at all, love. Give me the 


ACT II. • 

(Thread-counter in Anybody's department-store.) 

Salesgirl — " What is it, sir ?" 

Mr. Nippy — " I want a spool of dar " (Enter a 

haughty lady-shopper.) 

Lady-shopper — " See here, girl ; show me something 
to match this silk." 

Salesgirl — " A spool of what, sir ?" 

Mr. Nippy — " Of darning-cotton." 

Salesgirl — " What color, please ?" 

Lady-shopper — "Are you going to wait on me, or 
shall I call somebody that will?" 

Mr. Nippy — " I don't know ; my wife didn't tell me ; 
black, I guess." 

Lady-shopper — " I shall summon the floor-walker. Do 
yeu hear ?" 

Salesgirl — " Would you mind waiting a moment, sir ?" 

Mr. Nippy — " Go ahead and attend to her ; I'll be 
back in a minute." 

a Man-shopper 


Salesgirl — " Did you wish something, sir?" 

Mr. Nippy — "Yes; a pound of" (Enter a stout 


Lady-shopper — ■' How much discount do you give on 
goods for the Female Inebriate Asylum ?' 

Salesgirl — " What was it, sir ?" 

Mr. Nippy — •• A p'ound of salted almonds." 

Lady-shopper — " I say, how much discount do you " 

Salesgirl — " One moment, madam. [To Mr. Nippy.) 
Two pounds, did you say ?" 

J/r. Nippy — " One pound only, please." 

Lady-shopper — " Is there some one in this department 
that can answer questions ?" 

Salesgirl — " Will I put them -.i a box, sir ?" 

Mr. Nippy — " If you don't m nd ; yes." 

Lady-shopper — " Young wo nan, do you know -who 1 
am f" 

Salesgirl (crushed) — " What is it, madam ?" 

(Cut out by the editor.) 


(The Nippy home. Evening.) 

Mrs. Nippy — " Why are you so late, dear ? And you 
look dreadfully ill !" 

Mr. Nippy — " You ought to know why I" 

Mrs. Nippy — " Haven't you brought the things ?" 

Mr. Nippy — " No !" (Both burst into tears.) 


Mr. Plymwi 

By A. 

ck's Charity 

C. Davis 

■RTTR. PLYMWICK, one of the richest men in town, was 
also ostentatiously religious and charitable. Being 
hurriedly called away from home one day, and happening 
■ot \o have any money with him, he asked the loan of ten 
dollars from Mr. Brown, also very wealthy, but not re- 
markable for either charity or piety. 

When Mr. ^Plymwick took out the money to use he 
found there were two ten-dollar bills, so closely stuck to- 
gether as really to look like one. 

On his return home he told Mr. Brown about the two 
bills, and as he handed him one he said, " Now, Mr. 
Brown, do a charitable deed for once in your life and look 
to heaven for your reward. You give half of this other 
ten to the heathen, and I'll give the other half!" 

" All right ! Have it your own way !" replied Brown, 
who was very busy. 

That night about midnight he suddenly rose ¥p in bed 
with a vigorous exclamation. 

" What's the matter ?" cried his wife, in alarm, think- 
ing he was having a fit. 

"Of all the double blanked, idiotic, liver-brained dum- 
mies I ever heard of, I'm the three times double blankedest." 

And he told her the story of his business transaction 
with his neighbor. Then she lay down and laughed and 
laughed and laughed till her husband threatened to choke 
her or stuff a pillow down her throat. 

" Can't you see," he angrily asked, " that all of that ten- 
dollar bill old Plym was so generous with was mine ?" 

"Of course I can, ' she answered, as soon as she could 
catch her breath. " And although I don'i generally aj^ 
prove of swearing, I am laughing to think how- accurately 
you describe yourself." 



I. Mr. Hunter — " My, but this is a find ! As the wasps II. Pokkh-ton (six rnonlhs /ater) — " Fine old garret, this of 
are evidently deadl'll take it and hang it up in my garret for city Hunter's. As he has given me the freedom of the house I'll com- 
.—.„ . A > mence by taking a few rounds out of his punching-bag. 


Maud exclaimed. 

"What's the 
matter?" asked 

"While I was 
improving my mind 
this morning I 
found out some- 
thing you never 
would have be- 

" What is it ?" 

" You know the 
pilgrim fathers ?" 

"Of course; 
everybody knows 

" They belonged 
to a bicycle club." 

"How do you 
know ?" 

• "By t n e i r 

The governess—" Ah, lady .' I don't know what's come over Lionel. Th" little hangel 's gota hinsmM 
nta to play with boys an' hact like 'em, mum— regularly hact like 'em." 

Mrs. Feedem — '-What kind of situations are you looking for?" 
Tramp — "Well, some sech delicate situations as we find in a problem-play, mum !" 

A Marine Memory. 

T SHIPPED an awlul bad crew 
one time, although they tried 
hard to do their work and was 
very well-behaved. Thinks I to 
myself, these chaps ain't sailors — 
they've chosen the wrong road in 
life. Mebbe there is among 'em 
them that could 'a' been great as, 
for instance, writers. I had bought 
four new novels to read durin' the 
v'yage. I read 'em. Then, thinks 
I, the fellers tiiat I ought to got 
to sail my ship are them that 
wrote these books, whether the 
men I have got to sail it are the 
men that ought to wrote these 
books or not. 

An Aggravation. 

Mr. Lendthings (of Swamp- 
hurst) — " What are you sighmg 
about ?" 

Mrs. Lendthings (gloomily) — 
" I was just thinking what a lot of 
beautiful premiimis I could get if 
the intelligence offices u ould only 
give trading-stamps I" 

An Affront. 

(( TX return for your 
courtesy in asking 
me to lunch with you," 
said the magnate, dip- 
ping his fingers into the 
hnger-bowl, " I am going 
to give you a tip." 

Honest Herbert, the 
struggling young man 
who was seeking to gain 
the favor of the great 
magnate, drew himself 
up indignantly. 

" Give the tip to the 
waiter, sir," he replied. 

Nothing New There. 

Eastt-riu-r — "Yes, the 
latest thing in transpor- 
tation is the single-rail 
railroad. It is brand new, 
you know." 

Alkali Ike—" Huh ! 
Mebbe it is in your 
country, stranger, but 
it's been a poplar meth- 
od uv transportin" unde- 
sirable people outer Red 
Dog fer a good many 


CPURS do not give a horse 
speed ; they merely make him 
use what speed is in him. 


■ The HOISE-MAID— "There '11 be grand doin's over to Mrs. Cashley's nixt wake, 
eldest daughther is comin' out." 

The COOK— "Faith! thot remoinds me. Casey's son ought to be comm' out soon. 
He's bin in over a year. " 

WHAR did I 
It less con 

learn to sing an' 


: jess comes natural. 
Like de bright blue wing on de old blue- 
It jess comes natural. 
Like de green on de trees an' de blush on 

de rose ; 
Like de pain in your back or de hole in 

your clo'es , 
Like de hard times dat foUer wharever 
I goes. 
It jess comes natural. 

No, I took no lesson in all mah life •, 

It jess comes natural. 
Like de screech-owl's hoot or a man's 
first wife, 
It jess comes natural. 
Like de gold on de wheat when it's in de 

sheaf ; 
Like Colonel Bob's religious belief ; 
Like de consequences ob embalmed beef, 
It jess comes natural. 

No, I nevah took no lesson at all, at all { 

It jess comes natural. 
Like de fight at de finish ob a Darktown 
It jess comes natural. 
Like de morning dew on de cobweb's 
lace ; 
Like de pearl in de oyster's dress-suit case ; 
Like de rainbow's hue or de wart on your face, 
It jess comes natural. 


" Do you believe the story that Maud goes to 
the opera just to show her bonnets ?'' 

"No; Maud 
isn't so foolish as 
that. Sometimes 
she goes to see 
the other girls' 


" Are you giv- 
ing up much this 
Lent?" asked one 

Chicago woman TAKEN FOR GRANTED, 
of another. Miss Oldmavde — "Jack 

"Myhusband," Busteed made me a marriage- 
r^nlipd the latter Proposal last night." 
replied the latter Miss Pert— "When does 

I. Toothache Brown — "Well, I'm blowed ! I 
thought when I got that string tied around that confounded 
aching tooth I'd have nerve enough to pull it." 


the marriage take place ?" 


XL Urchin {who couldn'" allow such ajolden opportunity to slip) — " Shine, boss ?'* 

The Man Who Has Just Moved 

By Alex. Morrow 

HEN you have decided to move," 
said the man who has moved 
fourteen times in twelve years, 
" the first thing you ought to do 
is to talk it over with your wife 
and decide not to. If your rent 
is loo high go to your landlord 
and engage him in conversation, 
and gradually rou^e his better 
nature. Then if he wont come 
down make him paper the parlor 
new and paint the kitchen. It takes tact to handle a 
landlord. If he tells you he is in hard luck and needs a 
little money to buy cough syrup for the twins and that he 
wishes you would pony up, tell him about some of your 
troubles and be sociable with him. That will touch the 
landlord and you can do most anything with him. 

•• But if you do move, move quick," said the man who 
has moved lourteen times in twelve jears. "No use 
dragging it out over weeks. When I move I spring it at 
the breakfast-table some morning, and by night we are in 
our new home. I have got a regular case of movomania, 
I'll admit, but I hope 1 am getting over it. We have 
moved for every reason you can think of and tor no reason. 
Once we moved because the landlord wouldn't give us 
another latch-key — got sort o' riled, you know, and 
skipped out. Cost me forty dollars, and a latch-key would 
have cost a quarter, but it was the principle of the thing, 
you see. another time we lit out becauSe we could get a 
house one dollar a month cheaper. Only cost fifty dollars 
to get fixed up again, so you see we saved tliirty-eight 
dollars a year, if you can spit on your hands, turn a dou- 
ble somersault and figure it before you hit the ground. 

•• Moving has its drawbacks, I'll admit. When you 
look around your house and fondly gaze on your snug 
quarters and nicely-arranged bric-a-brac, you think you 
are sonr.e. You feel that you are a whole lot o' much. 
But wait until you see your lares et penates proceed- 
ing up the street astride of a dray ! Wait until your tall 
bedstead kicks up its foot in the pulilic eye. Look at your 
piano bunking with your old wash-tub of the vintage of 
'72. Consider that buxom feather-tick no longer clothed 
in the seemly garb of its daily station in life, but sprawled 
out on vour sewing-niMchine and playing peek-a-boo with 
a dish-pan full of tomato-cans. Wouldn't that curl your 
chin-whiskers ? 

" Many a family has blushed for shame at the sight of 
their establishment ihus exposed to the rude gaze of the 
great scoffing world. Little wots the outsider that your 
best things are packed away in those chests of drawers 
and those wads of burl.-.p. 

" Moving brings many old things to light and opens 
up many a closed chapter of secret history. There's a 
bunch ot olcl letters you have wept over. Here's the old 
suit that was once the apple of your eye, and that took^o 
long to pay for. That old hat your wife wore when you 

used to hold her hand of June nights and thrill a thrill or 
two, and wonder what was the matter with you. The lit- 
tle shoe your first baby wore ; ditto your second baby 
wore ; ditto third ditto ; ditto fourth ditto. Then you get 
hot under the collar about something, and your wife sud- 
denly confronts you with the first letter you wrote to her 
after you were engaged. It takes a woman to be right- 
down mean. No man would do a thing like that because 
his better half was giving him Jesse. 

" My wife stole a march on me this time and moved 
without my knowing anything about it. You see, I was 
out of town a few days, and she has got so used to moving 
when she sees other folks on the move that she just could- 
n't stand it. When I got home I went up to the place 
and let myself in. The house seemed rather hollow 
like, and I didn't know what to make of it. I went out 
and inquired of the neighbors if they had seen anything of 
a strayed family, and they said yes ; they had seen three 
van-loads of a family go out of the street the day before, 
and they gave me the general direction in which the outfit 
was headed, and I started out, like a farmer hunting a 
swarm of bees, to find my household. I ran them down 
along toward ten o'clock in the evening and found that 
the letter apprising me of the migration had never been 
mailed. I tell you that wife of mine certainly had me 
guessing for a while. When you see a lone man walking 
along a street, asking people to please tell him where ne 
lives, you have your own idea what's the matter with him, 
don't you ? Well, you see how I was fixed. 

" But, as I said before, when you get all ready to move, 
don't. Cut it out. Forget it. I hav^ moved fourteen 
times in twelve years, and I ought to know." 

He Stood a Poor Show. 

TWO Irishmen were walking down the railroad track. 
' They heard a whistle and looked back, to discover 
the train coming, and there was but a few seconds for 
them to make their escape. 

Pat ran up the bank and called to his friend Mike (who 
was a recent arrival from the old country) to follow. But 
Mike took to his heels and started down the track on a 
dead run. He was overtaken, however, and tossed over 
into an open field. 

Pat came over to where his friend was and said, 
"Mike, why didn't you run up the bank as I t-old you 
to do ?" 

" Well, begorra," said Mike, " if I couldn't keep ahead 
of that thing on the level, what show would I have had 

running up a bank ? " Mrs. W. B. Booth, Louis%nlle, Kenlucky. 

Where Ignorance Is Bliss. 

A RAW Swede girl went to the post-office one day and 
•^ asked the clerk at the window, " Is theie a letter here 
for me ? " 

" And what's the name, please ?" said the clerk. 

The girl replied, " That be all right, sir ; the name be 

on the letter." Mrs. W. B. Booth. LouBville. Kenlnckj. 



Miss Woodby de Heiress — "How d'ye do, count? I'm glad 
yen were able to get away from those horrid dry goods again this 
season . " 

Count Rebon Countaire — " Thanks, awfully, my dear Miss de 
Heiress. It also gives me great pleasure to note that close application 
to your sewing hasn't affected the brightness of your eyes in the least." 


The loss of sleep is partly compensated by the joy of swearing at 
yeur neighbor's dog. 

Weary Willie — "Yes. poor old Slobsy lost heart completely an' committed suicide, 
couldn't Stan' dis cruel, heartless world no longer." 

Flowery Fields—" Everybody against him, I suppose?" 

Wfary Willie — "Yes ; everywhere he went folks wuz offerin' him jobs." 



" I bet you dare not go 
OTer and speak to that girl." 

" No ; you bet I won't. 
That's my wife, and I've just 
had a quarrel with her." 


Tommy went to dine with 
his uncle. 

" Did you ask a Messing, 
dear ?" asks pious rnamma. 

" No, mamma ; not ex- 
actly. But Uncle Dick said 
' Blast the cook !' when we- 
sat down." 


Art professor (to pupil 
minus talent) — " You have 
tried charcoal, water-colors 
and oil without success, and 
your attempts at landscapes 
and casts are a failure. What 
can you draw .'" 

Unabashed pupil — " M" 
breath, sir." 



childish enter- 
They grabbed the 
old hen's legs 
And made her eat 
assorted dyes 
To produce Easter- 


Miss Gatnbrel — 
"Isn't it funny? 
Lucy and I are al- 
ways forgetting our 

Visitor — " You 
ought to put them 

Miss Gambrel (absent-mindedly) — " Yes ; we did cut them 
down several times, and probably that's the reason we are 
growing so forgetful." 


" How shall I cook 
the boot-leg to-day, 
Mike?" said one 
Klondiker to another. 

"This is Lent, 
Dan," replied the lat- 
ter. " \Ve must now 
give up lu.xuries. 
We'll have frapp^d 
snowballs for break- 
fast and icicles au 
nature! for dinner." 

Go fetch your last year's safety out ; 

Clean and pump your tire, 
And the man who makes the longest run 

Will be the biggest liar. 

Cherupim and 
seraphim and all the 
glorious company of 
heaven are nor to be 
compared to the man 
who for the hrst time 
wears a silk hat. 


Hotel-clerk — ' ' What's that noise ? What did ye 
throw that bureau down for ?" 

Mr. Gasblower — " I — I thought it was the folding- 

Kite clothes-drying device for avoiding the germs and microbes. 
High and dry above the city's tainted atmosphere. • 

^ > >. 

•n 1 f^ 

w. C fXi 
»-*■ i "^ 

a n'S. 
" r,-<. 
ft 5: - 

n C "^ 

c — t^ 

C 3 2 _j 

^3^ ::^ 

2. c y- -; 

05 § 



Porter — " Brush yer coat, sir?' 


Clara — "He has proposed 
three or four times and I don't 
know whether to accept him or 

Maude — " I would. Suppose 
he should stop ?" 

The girls of a co-ed. school 
tried burglary for fun, and in 
consequence one of them was 
beaten nearly to death. Have we 
not often said that girls would 
never make good burglars ? 

Hibernating Hank — " Wat's struck ye, Nick?" 
Negligent Nick — " Sufiferin' Moses ! I fergot t" take me 
cologne-bath an' violet massage dis mornin !", 


" Who invented the saying, 
' He laughs best who laughs 
last '?" 

" He must have been an Eng- 


Now life is all a merry rhyme, 
For joy the day is sent ; 

So have youi' fling at Christmas- 
On New-year's you repent. and truly, your bald- 
headed friend will be pleased if 
you give him a hair-brush. 


She — " Now that we are engaged I 
want you to kiss mother when she comes 

He — " Let's break the engagement." 



Mrs. Cobwigger — " Every- 
body says the charity ball was a 

Mrs. Dorcas — " So it was. 
The committee cut down t'ne 
expenses so that there would be 
something left for charity." 


Farmer Greeti (gazing at two 
bicycles attached by coupler) — 
"Well, that's grand! I never 
did like them tantrums, with 
one feller ridin' in front an' the 
other 'way behind." 

The Texas colonel — "Why, yo' scoundrel, 
yo've' brushed my coat away i" 


2 1 

Z •= -p 

3 3 S 

^ -2 


•§ * 

C c i 

x — 5 

'l i 1 


Overcoming the Obstacle. 

«< VES," said the young man who was taking the young 
woman for an auto ride, " the auto has its advan- 
tages ; but still there is a great difference between it and 
the good old horse." 

" Oh, yes ; I suppose there is," answered the young 

" For instance," went on tiie young man, " with the 
horse, when one was driving with 
the pretty girl he could hold the lines 
in one hand, or wrap them about the 
whip, and — and — and hug the girl." 

" Oh-h-h-h ! you awful thing !" 
exclaimed theblushing young woman. 

Thev sped along in silence for 
several miles. At last the timid 
young thing said, 

'• But I should ihink that diffi- 
culty could be easily overcome." 

" What difficulty : ' asked 
young man. 

" Why, that— what 
you said about the 
times when the men 
took the girls driving 
behind a horse, and — 
and when they wrapped 
the lines about the whip, 
and when they — they 
— oh, when they did 
what you say they did." 

" I don't see how it 
could be over- 
come," said the 
youth. " If you 
stop the auto it's 
liable to start up 
of itself and up- 
set you in the 
ditch, and a fel- 
low simply has 
to keep both 
hands busy wWle 
it is in motion." 

"I know," fal- 
tered the girl ; 
'• but — but it 
seems to me 
there would be a 

" I'd like to 
know what it is." 

" Well, couldn't the girl 
man ?" 

The Spread of a Great Idea. 

<< A ND how about your church-debt ?" 

" Oh, we are not worrying about that. Our pastor, 
the reverend Goetzmorgen, is going to have the official 
board form a company, take over the church, and trans- 
form the indebtedness into preferred stock." 
" Would that be a Christian operation ?" 
"Well, in speaking of it, he doesn't tise just that ex- 
pression, He calls it 
'applying the higher 
finance.' " 

War Easter. 

On, Vv'E had no Easter 
When the Easter morning 
Where we lay in muddy 
In a cloud of yellow 
smoke ; 
And we lacked the organ- 
Swelling grandly on the 
And the rose and ruby 
And the carols sweet and 

For the Maxim was the 
boys in 

•The lady — " Why is it that big, healthy men hke you are unable to find work?" 
Husky Hubert (pUasatilly) — " Well, mum, if yer must know, I might say, confi 
dentially, dat our good luck 's all wot saves us," 

-couldn't she hug — hug the 

A Testimonial. 

^^ pvAT boy ob mine," declares Aunt Ca'line, with much 
pride, " am puah blood. No mix' blood in 'im, I 
wan' ter tell yo'. Why, he haid got de genuine wool on 
hit. Yas, sub. 'Deed, sub, las' summah de moths got in 
nit an' et hit mos' plum' nigh ofifen 'im." 

Of the tattered 
And the singing of the 
All the carols that we 
But we never missed the 
For the flag was over- 
head — 
Glorious stars upon the 
Glowing stripes of white 
and red. 


Selling Ex- 
• 'VOU acknowl- 
edge that 
the bonnet, in- 
trinsically, is not 
worth over five 
dollars," we say 
to the milliner 
sternly. " Then 
■ why do you ask 
twenty - iive dol- 
lars for it ?" 

" I just wish you could come in contact with some of 
these shoppers," she replies plaintively. " I wouldn't try 
to talk one of them into buying a bonnet for less than 
twenty dollars." 

At the Museum. 

(« pvO they pay you much ?" asked the visitor 
" No," replied the living skeleton in a 

gust ; 

tone of dis- 
just enough to keep skin and bone together." 



B KISSED her and two roses red 
O'er her white cheeks their crimson 
As spreads the rosy light of dawn 
The snowy hills of winter on. 

And then I saw her soft blue eyes 
Begin to cloud as April skies ; 
And so. to stop the threatened rain, 
I kissed the trembling thing again. 


" What constitutes a good joke ?" 

" The right sort of fellow to tell it to." 

The spring, the spring, 


Bridget — '" If yez plaze, mum, 
Oi"d loike me wages to-day, as 
Oi've to pay me fayther's med- 
ical insurance.' 

Mistress — " What is medical 
insurance, Bridget.'" 

Bridget — " Tis the koind 
thot if ye 're sick does be sendin' 
yez medicine an" a docthor an' 
a hearse an' a grave an' every- 
thing yez do be needin'.' 


Witty — "That fellow 
has seen a great many people 
pass in their checks. " 

Jones- — "Is he a west, 
emer ?" 

Witty — " No ; he's a bag- 

What seems patriotism 
to one man may be diagnosed 
as prejudice by another. 






A SMALL boy in one of our schools was asked to g\ve 
the principal parts of the verb die ; his answer was, 
die, dead, buried. The same interrogatory relative to 
love was responded to thus : 
" Love, married, divorced." 

Hugh Mossman, Onslow, Iowa. 
TOO P01.1TE. 

^^NE day a little boy came to school with very dirty 
^^ hands, and the teacher said to him, 

" Jamie, I wish you would not come to school with your 
hands soiled that way. What would you say if 1 came to 
school with dirty hands ?" 

" I wouldn't say anything," was the prompt reply. " I'd 
be too polite." Archib Krown, Worthington, Indiana. 


A WEALTHY New Yorker was showing a country 
friend of his, named Pat, the sights of the city. 
Happening to pass Tiffany's window, he stopped and di- 
rected Pat's attention to the brilliant display of diamonds 

" Pat," he said, " how would you like to have your 
pick in that window ?" 

" Faith,' said Pat, " Oi'd rather have me shovel in it, 

that I would." Ruth Stewart, Gallipolis, Ohio. 

'T'HE other day two good-looking old ladies entered a 
prominent bank. One of them wanted a check 

" But," said the cashier, " I don't know you ; you'll 
have to get some one to identify you." 

" My friend here will identify me," said the lady. 

■■ But I don't know your friend," said the cashier. 

" Welt," said the lady, with a withering smile, " I'll in- 
troduce you." Jack W. Hanbv, Jr., Rockwall, Texas. 


A N' Irishman who was troubled with catarrh, or some 
similar affliction, having been advised by his chum, 
W'ent to a doctor for treatment. When he returned Mike 

" Did he tell \ez to take it mternally or externally ?" 
" Faith, nayther," was Pat's reply. 

" Shure, thin, how're yez goin' l' take it?" inquired 

" Shure," said Pat, "he tould me t' shnuff it oop me 

nose. Edgar A. Williams, Sewaren, New Jersey. 


/^NE night a boy who had been working in a baker- 
^^ shop until quite late broke the marble-slab on 
which he moulded his loaves of bread. So he straight- 
way went to the marble-yard to procure another, but 
found ihe place closed up. On his way back he passed a 
graveyard, and as it was very dark he climbed over the 
fence, pulled up a small headstone which he thought about 
the right size and took it back with him to finish his job. 
The next day all the loaves of bread were sent hack short- 

ly after being delivered. Happening to turn one of the 

loaves over he found on the other side the following : 

"Here lies the body of Mrs. , Born A.D. 1682, 

Died A.D. 1740." Dorothy G. Mix, Wallingford, Conneclicuf. 


A WELL-KNOWN man tells this incident in his own ex- 
perience. Before coming to this country he attended 
a leading school in his native land antl had a native 
teacher. He was taught that p-t-o u-g-h spelled plow in 
the English tongue, and that necessarily c-o-u-g-h spelled 
cow. After coming to this country he learned that a 
chest is a box, and also that a part of the body is called 
the chest. While recovering from a sick spell, the doctor 
called one morning and asked how he felt, whereupon he 

" Oh, pretty well, except that I have a cow in my box." 

Hugh Mossman, Onslow, Iowa. 


TN one of our western cities there is a cigar-store located 
■*• on one of the principal streets that the workmen use 
going to and from their work. It was the custom of a 
small Irishman to stop in at the cigar-store every morning 
and say, " Have ye a match .'" Upon receiving- a match 
he would light his pipe and go on to his work. After re- 
peatmg this procedure for several mornings the clerk 
made up his mind to find out who he was. So the next 
morning the Irishman came in as usual and asked for a 
match, whereupon, giving him the match, the clerk said, 

"Comrade, I would like to know who you are?" 

" Why, don't you know who I am ?" 

" No ; of course not. 1 never have been introduced to 

" Well, I am the little man that comes in every morn- 
ing to light me pipe." George R. Gard, Ord, Nebraska. 


T ATTENDED a dance a few years ago in a little Ne- 
■*• braska village, whf-re oysters were served during the 
evening as refieshments. Accommodations being meagre, 
only a few couples would go to the dining-room at a time. 
During a waltz a lady and her SaeWish escort sat down at 
the table where 1 was seated, and hardly had their stews 
been placed before them when the music stopped and the 
manager's voice was heard in the hall announcing a qua- 
drille. The lady excitedly exclaimed : 

" Hurry up, Otto ! I'm engaged for this set. Eat 'em 
two at a time. " 

Otto obediently made several spasmodic dives with his 
spoon, then, without the least suspicion of humor, stolidly 
leaned back in his chair and remarked, 

" I can't. There ain't but one in here." 

R. L. Piatt, Midland City, Illinois. 

TN a Denver hotel a man and his wife had registered and 
taken a room. During the night the man was seized 
with a severe pain in the stomach and rolled and tossed 
in great anguish. At last, having exhausted all the rem- 
edies at hand, his wife decided to go to one of the lower 
rooms 10 heat a porous plaster 

4i S 


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B Q 

tf] o 
o: (J 

(»< IZI 

'Kiar Biffs Epicurean Bear 

A Tale that Dnmfounded ez>en the Pochiick Chronicler 

By Ed Mott 


I OLOMON CRIBBER, the veracious 
and ever-ready chronicler of Po- 
chuck doings, both reminiscent and 
contemporaneous, had one all 
thought up as he came into the 
tavern at the Corners. The expres- 
sion on his face was unmistakable 
indication of the fact. It was so 
unmistakable that it resulted in 
a wonderful thing. It gave an 
inspiration to 'Kiar Biff, the land- 
lortl, and as Mr. Cribber sat down, 
turned his bland smile toward 
'Kiar, and was about to introduce 
the amazing Pochuck incident he 
had made his mental notes of, the 
landlord, suddenly inspired, held 
him in reserve by remarking, 

"Solomon, if you ever take to 

keepin' a bear, don't never let it 

git an appetite fer goose-liver pie, 

fer if you do it'll bring the bear down m sorrow to the 

grave, so to speak, and as like as not cost you a whole lot 

o' soreness o' heart." 

The smile and benevolent expression left the face of 
the Pochuck chronicler, and although his mouth was wide 
open, he sat dumb, staring at 'Kiar Biff. 

"And, Solomon," said 'Kiar, " keep him away from 
Dutch cheese and sassages, fer if you don't they'll lead 
him from the straight and narrow path you've brung 
him up in out into the broad road that leads to destruc- 
tion, jest as sure as you're born ! Mind what I tell you, 
Solomon ! Keep him away from 'em !" 

Mr. Cribber, having recovered himself somewhat, made 
an attempt to recall his smile, and said to 'Kiar, 

"Yes, yes! Of course — ha, ha, ha! — 'Kiar. But 
what I was goin' to say was that we got to talkin' about 
weather this mornin', and Uncle David Beckendarter says 

to me, ' Solomon,' he says, ' 1 remember a ' " 

But the inspiration was too strong in 'Kiar. It could 
not be suppressed, and he cut the Pochuck historian off 
short in his relation. 

" And I'll tell you how I know it," said he, waving Mr. 
Cribber aside. •• When I kep' tavern over in the Scrubby- 
hook country I had a bear. I riz that bear from a cub 
that didn't remember its mother. And I riz it in the way 
it should go. That bear wa'n't only good and honest. 
He was actu'ly pious. First when I named him I called 
him Jonah, after an uncle o' mine, but that bear moped 
and moped, and every time he heerd his name he'd let go 
a yelp as if he didn't like it. The bear was so consarned 
good and conscientious that by and by I says to myself 
that I'd bet a couple o' shillin' that he thought the name 
wa'n't fittin' to him, and so I changed his name to Moses. 
You jest ought to seen the difference when he found me 

callin' him Moses ! The tears o' joy most come in hi^ 
eyes every time he heerd his name. Then one time my 
little boy was too sick to go to Sunday-school. Of course 
we didn't think nothin' about the collection fer the heathen 
they took up, but if Moses didn't take a penny outen the 
tin cup on the mantletree and carry it up to the red 
school-house, where Sunday-school was, and toss it in to 
'em, then I don't remember jest right ! He was very 
pious, Moses was." 

Solomon Cribber sat dumb again, staring at 'Kiar 

" And then Lewy Schwatzenbacher come all the way 
from Jersey somewheres," continued 'Kiar, "to board at 
my tavern and fish and hunt. He brung with him a 
stone-drag load, most, of Dutch cheeses and sassages 
and goose-liver pie, to eat betwixt meals. I said then, 
and I say now, that I was willin' to bet that the meat them 
sassages was made of was old enough to have come offen 
pigs and setch that walked out o' the ark with Noah. 
And them cheeses — say, Sol Cribber ! let me tell you 
about them cheeses. Schwatzenbacher took a great shine 
to my bear from the start, and he thought so much of him 
that he was wilUn' to share his sassages and cheeses with 
him, and I was a little disapp'inted in Moses when I see 
that he didn't have no trouble at all in gittin' away with 

" There was one partic'lar cheese, though, that he 
balked at some at first, but he pulled himself together by 
and by and got the best of it. And that sp'iled some- 
thin' the hull o' the Scrubbyhook bailiwick had been 
countin' big on. Joe Bunker, who had outfit every fighter 
there was on the old Scrubby, had bet me ten dollars 
that he could lick Moses in a rough-and-tumble. The 
day was sot fer the fight, but when Joe heerd that the 
bear had got away with that cheese o' Schwatzenbacher's 
he drawed the bet. 

" ' Moses has got too much sand fer me to rub up 
ag'in !' says Joe, and disapp'intment bigger than a ton o' 
hay sot down on the hull Scrubbyhook spread o' waters. 
But, Solomon, it mebbe '11 give you an idee o' the heft o' 
the cheeses that Schwatzenbacher introduced to that bear 
o' mine." 

The Pochuck narrator made an effort to get himself in 
his old form and spar for an opening, but it was no use. 
'Kiar went right on. 

" But amongst all o' them betwixt-meals victuals that 
Schwatzenbacher had brung," said he, " nothin' seemed 
to tickle the palate o' the bear so all-pervadin' as his 
goose-liver pie. I s'pose your Uncle David Beckendarter 
has told you all about what goose-liver pie is, Solomon .'" 

Mr. Cribber was reduced to such a state of inaptitude 
that he actually hadn't presence of nimd enough to say 
yes ! 

" Sing'lar !" said 'Kiar. " I didn't know what it was, 
neither, till one day, while him and Moses was lunchin' 

on some, Schwatzenbacher up and told me. Goose-liver 
pie is made outen goose livers that has been stretched 
from their nat'ral size till they git to be as big as a good- 
sized ham. How do they do that stretchin' ? By coopin' 
the geese up and keepin' 'em cooped up, and then stuffin' 
'em and stuffin' 'em with fodder that swells the livers up 
till one goose's liver, Schwatzenbacher said, 'd be big 
enough to cut and fit a hull flock o' geese with ordinary 
livers that geese wear every day. The fodder they use in 
stuffin' the geese with is corn-meal, and they pack the 
liver, when they take the goose away from it, in tin cans 
and pots, and it's goose-liver pie. 

" Another one o' them Dutch eatin's that Moses had a 
hankerin' fer was a sassage that was stuffed in a skin as 
big around as a sasser, and had white spots scattered 
around in it the size of a ten-cent piece. It makes me 
madder 'n a snake, yit, to think o' that ding sassage ! The 
first 1 noticed that Moses was on the downward path was 
the inklin' that sassage give me. Moses and Schwatzen- 
bacher went so heavy on them sassages that they give 
out, and I was glad of it, if they wa'n't. 

•■ One night I ketched the biggest eel I ever see. It 
was bigger round than a rollin'-pin. I skinned it and 
hung the skin on the hitchin'-post to dry. Next day my 
coach-dog, Fanny, brought me a litter o' six o' the nicest 
pups you ever see — shiny as mushrats, and spotted like 
leopards. I had every one of 'em sold fer ten dollars 
apiece as soon as they got their eyes -open, and I was 
feelin' good, I tell you. That afternoon I see that some 
one had walked off with that amazin' big eel-skin o' mine, 
and that made me mad, fer I wanted to tell about ketchin' 
that big eel, and have the skin to show to them that snick- 

" Next forenoon I went out to take another look at my 
coach-dog pups, and, \^ and behold ye ! there was only 
five of 'em ! One o' the pups was gone ! Now 1 was 
mad, fer sartin, and I went tearin' 'round to see if I 
couldn't git some track o' where the pup had gone to, 
when I see Moses comin' from "round the barn and carryin' 
somethin" over to where Schwatzenbacher was gittin' 
ready to open a goose-liver pie. I walked over there, too, 
and I thought I'd drop in my tracks when I see that what 
the bear was carryin' was my missin' eel-skin, stuffed full 
o' somethin' ! 

" I took it away from Moses, and then I see that the 
stuffin' o' the skin was somethin' spotted with white, like 
one o' them sassages, and then I give a howl. That un- 
fortunate bear had stole that eel-skin and 'propriated one 
9' my ten-dollar pups and prepared it fer stuffin' fer the 
<kin, tliinkin' he was makin' one o' them sassages ! But 
that settled his hash with Schwatzenbacher. Schwatzen- 
bacher took it as a 'siniwation as to what them sassages 
was made of, and he packed up his traps, goose-liver pies 
and all, and left Scrubbyhook. 

" Moses took this to heart so that I felt sorry fer him, 
and didn't take him in hand as I had ought to done. He 
moped and pined, and hunted up all o' the empty goose- 
liver-pie cans he could find layin' 'round, and licked 'em 
till I thought he'd wear holes in 'em, but I calc'lated that 
he'd git over his hankerin' fer setch fodder by and by 
and be the same good and pious bear he used to be. 

" Somebody had been stealin' chickens considerable 
'round there fer some time, and we had an idee who 
it was that was doin' the stealin'. We kep' still, though, 
but when three o' my geese was took one night I 
thought it was time to do somethin', and I said right out 
and out that it was Big Sam Waddles who was walkin" 
off with our poultry, and 1 got out a search-warrant, but 
didn't find nothin' to take him up on. 

■' Then one day, along about that time, what does Hi 
Stubbs, that drove the tannery mules, do but come in and 
declare up and down that he had been stopped on the road 
in Deeper's woods by a bear, and that the bear had 
yanked a bag o' meal offen his wagon and lugged it off 
into the woods ! Hi's standin' fer truth and veracity 
there and thereabout wa'n't o' the George Washin'ton 
natur", and all the tannery done was to discharge him on 
the spot. 

" A while after Schwatzenbacher left us Moses seemed 
to git more chipper and hopeful-like, and I was encour- 
aged. He meandered about the country as usual, but I 
took to noticin' that he stayed away from home longer 
than he used to do, so one day I follered him to see how 
he was passin" his time. He went into the woods .s )me- 
thin' like a mile and a half, and when he come to Sliker's 
old bark cabin he went in and shet the door behind him. 
I crep' up and peeked through a crack. What I see, Sol- 
omon, most sent me tumblin' flat. 

" In one corner o' the cabin was two geese, penned 
up and swelled out so big that they couldn't stand. Moses 
had another goose on the floor, dead, and he was takin' 
out its liver and stuffin' it in one o' Schwatzenbacher's 
goose-liver pie cans ! I went in. Moses looked up, and 
when he see me his head sunk on to his breast, and 
shame stuck out all over him. And there stood the miss- 
in' bag o' tannery corn-meal, half gone ! Moses had stole 
my geese and highway-robbed Hi Stubbs of the meal, 
and had been crammin' them geese with it to git stock 
fer goose-liver pie ! 

•' I was so sore at heart that I couldn't say a word, and 
I come back home sad and sorry. 'Long towards night I 
see Moses come sneakin' home and go into the barn. I 
didn't go out fer half an hour or so, and then I was too 
late. Moses had hung himself by a halter from a rafter 
in the haymow, and was deader than a grindstone ! 

" So, Solomon, if you ever " 

But the Pochuck chronicler, an amazed and disap- 
pointed man, rose and went slowly out and homeward. 


(( r\EY done taken Sam Johnsing down ter de /«sane- 
'syluni," says Marty Brown. 

" Yo' doan tell me ! What in dis world gone wrong 
wid dat man ?" asks Sistah Po'teh. 

" Hit bin goin' on mo' en fo' weeks now sense he begun 
ter pos'/iVfly 'fuse ter eat watahmillion." 

Not Necessary. 

Indignant sister — " See here, Lottie ; I tnought mother 
told you not to encourage that young man." 

Lottie — " So she did ; but that young man doesn't 
need any encouragement." 


At one titjiO the great com. 
poser Paderhairsky ris so poor 
that he had no pillow on which 
to lay his head ; but, then, what's 
the use recounting that ? — he 
didn't need a pillow. 


There is no evidence that 

Mars is subject to marital dis- ., ^.„ ., t^ . , ,-.,., , , , , , , „ . .,-. t. • 

J Tr ■ Mrs. O Toole — Faith, an it s th harrud luck thot pursues th Kerngans. Tin shtone» 

turbances. and Venus is not gjj ^ shlate roof falls owld man Kerrigan yishterday an' niver hurrts himsilf at all — an' wid sivia 

vain. hoondred dollars' worth av insurance on th' loife av 'im." 

I. First hen — " Good gracious ! What are you wearing those hoopskirts for ?' 


Mamma — " Gracie, nurse tells me you 
did not say your prayers last night." 

Grade (aged five) — " No, mamma ; I 
didn't have to last night, for I was so ve'y 
tihed an' s'eepy 'at I jus' got down quick 
under 'e covers, an' I said, ' O, Lord ! p'ease 
excuse me for not saying my prayers to- 
night for I am so ve'y tihed an' s'eepy,' an' 
He said, ' Cehtamly, Miss Tomlinson.' " 


lVa£^ge—" I hear Miss Bagley is quite 
the new woman. Can you tell me if it is 

Mrs. Wagge — " So ? Of course it is. 
Why, her last paper at the club was about 
'The advantages of sleeping in pajamas.'" 


" My son," said the fond father reprov- 
ingly, " I have always endeavored to do my 
diity to you." 

" Oh, yes," replied the erring one ; " you 
have done fairly well as fathers go." 


" Why don't you go to church to-day. 
To hear the sermon, praise and pray ? 
Though I don't want to be severe, 
That you're a sinner much I fear." 

" I'm a regular church-goer, dear — 
On Easter Sunday, once a year." 


Lazy Lazarus — " Say, Weary, listen ter 
dis snap in de newspaper. ' Wanted — an 
elderly man ter eat an' sleep on de prem- 
ises.' Ain't dat a puddin'? Suit you an' 
me ter pieces." 

Second hen — " I find them of great assistance in controlling the childrM,' 




< z 



Philanthropist — " And have you anything laid by for a rainy day ?" 
Pat Ducy — " A whole quart, sor ; an' it's a glorious drunk Oi'U hov th' foorst day it's too wet to womik." 











' _r 




" Davie," Edith asked, 
" why do folks comb 
their heads ?" 

" Huh !" Davie looked 
at his sister with an ex- 
pression of pity. " Why 
do folks rake their gar- 
dens? T' make th' hair 
grow, little goose." 



" Why does the husband of the 
two-headed woman wear such a 
doleful look ?" asked the living 

" Easter is coming and she in- 
sists upon having two new bon- 
nets," replied the India-rubber man. 

Even the gentle rain from 
heaven plays pool in the streets. 



Deacon Jones— " What ! Not go- 
ing to church any more ? I thought 
you told me not long ago that you 
hadn't missed a Sunday in three 
years .'" 

Farmer Corncrib — " So I hadn't. 
So I hadn't. But what's the use 
now ? Times air gittin' as good as 
thev ever was." 



Crawford — " What 
makes you think your 
wife isn't so much of a 
new woman as she used 
to be ?" 

Crabshaw — " Because 
since this war-scare I 
haven't heard her say 
how sorry she was that 
she wasn't a man." 

Mr. Sellem (who has hurrii-d from X,r.u Vor/;) — "I'd like to have a hold of the fresh 
guy who wrote me that I'd get a big order by calling at 331 Market street." 

He Had To Radiate Money. 

/UR. MUCHMONN, his wife and 
three daughters were staying 
at the Mostex-Pensive hotel, in the 
Adirondacks. As a means of en- 
tertaining the guests, the manager 
of the hotel engaged a lecturer who 
gave a demonstration of the latest 
researches in scientific fields. After 
one of his lectures mamma and the 
girls were telling papa all about it. 
He had not been able to attend, 
owing to an imperative demand for 
his presence and advice and assist- 
ance in opening a series of jack-pots 
in a little room on the third floor. 

" It was just lovely, papa '" said 
the youngest daughter. 

" So educational, too," averred 
the second daughter. 

'• And so helpful to the mind," 
chimed in the eldest daughter. 

" It certainly was of benefit to all 
present," said mamma. 

" What did he tell about ?" 
asked papa, who was not in a hap- 
py mood, having on different occa- 
sions overestimated the possibilities 
of the draw ; also underestimated 
his opponents' hands. 

"About radium," explaineO 

"What is radium — some new 
dress-goods or a breakfast-food ?" 

"No; it's a new substance 
which constantly gives off parts of 
itself and still never diminishes in 
size or quantity." 

" Huh 1 That fellow must have 
been trying to tell you women what 
your idea of my pocket-book is." 

The Courteous Gateman. 

((I WAXT to catch the four- 
o'clock train for New York !" 
exclaims the charming damsel, 
rushing against the turnstile. 

Politely, but firmly, the gateman 
bars the way. 

"The train has gone, madam; 
it left just a mmute ago," he says. 

'■ Oh, dear ! Then I have missed 
it :" 

" No, madam," he replies, doff- 
ing his cap and bowing gracelully. 
" I think it would be better to say- 
that the train has missed you." 

After that, to wait four hours 
for the next train was a light 


M.\GG1E — 


" Is dat her fiance ?" 

' Naw ! Dat 's de guy she 's goin' ter marry." 

The Chestnut-trcc 


UNDER the spreading cliestnut-tree 
The Jolly Jokeman stands ; 
A blithe and happy fellow he. 

As. with his upstretched hands, 
He shakes the chestnuts from the boughs, 

All dull and brown with age, 
Yet fresh and young enough, he vows, 
To grace some funny page. 

And this, so smooth and rotund yet. 

Despite its tale of years, 
Next month (he's willing, quite, to bet) 

In Judge's garb appears. 
This large and venerable shell 

Yields to the Jokeman's knife ; 
'Tis hollow, empty ! very well, 

'Twill suit the simple Lt/e. 


But still remains, here at his feet, 

A mangy, hopeless bunch ; 
These go to London, where they'll meet 

A welcome warm from Punch. 
Thus doth the spreading chestnut-tree 

Contribute to our joys 
The selfsame wit and humor we 

Were fed upon as boys. 

This one, most ancient, he reserves 

(He's tried the plan before) 
To fill the place it best deserves 

In Harper's (changeless) Drawer. 
While here's another, punctured through 

With worm-holes — ^splendid luck ! 
The Jolly Jokeman knows 'twill do 

To send along to Puck. 

Once more he shakes the chestnut-tree ; 

Down falls, bewhiskered, gray, 
A joke inscribed l6 B. C, 

Bok's ! for the L. H. J. 
Another yank a nut brings down 

Too poor to boil or roast. 
Which, likewise, goes to Penn's old town. 

Addressed, " The S. E. Post." 

One day comes Bangs, and with him Ade, 

And all the motley crew ; 
Each rests beneath the chestnut's shade 

And swipes a joke or two. 
Here's Burgess, Loomis, Masson, Dunne, 

And clever Carolyn ; 
Two paragraphers for the Sun 

(But these are butters-in). 


And while rich spoil they gather fast, 

The^e jokemen laugh with glee ; 
How brief a space their jobs would last 

But for the chestnut-tree ! 
Helpless, unseen, Joe Miller's wraith 

Sighs on the topmost limb. 
To think those chestnuts all, i' faith. 

Had once belonged to him ! f. c 

Ancient Tayles 

By Lowell Otus Reese 

Ye Ass in ye Senate. 

OOK YE, deare children, thys is an an- 
cient tayle with a modern moral. 

Once uponne a tyme all ye ani- 
mals gat together to holde an elec- 
tion. There was much electioneer- 
ing & manie fytes. 

And itte was soe thatte there 
were manie candidates. Yea, ver- 
ilie, every animal desired that he 
be elected ; & there was noe one to 
vote for another, God wot. 

" Behold !" sedde ye Owl, " I am ye logical candidate. 
Am 1 notte e.vceedynge wise ? Or atte leaste have I notte 
ye reputation for wisdom — and do I notte looke ye part ? 

For itte mattereth notte thatte thou be ye prize chump o 
ye century, if thatte thou art able to putte on a looke of 
profound sageness ! Therefore, I claim ye right to be 
elected to ye Senate & have a free pass both ways !" 

Butte while they one & alle admitted ye soundnesse of 
ye Owls claims, yette were they unwilling to yield himme 
ye plume. '• For he hath no puUe !" sedde they, " & who- 
ever heard of a politician withoute a puUe ?" 

Soe they turned himme down. 

" Lo !' yelped ye Smalle Dogge, "Sende me! I am 
eloquent ! Yea, itte is soe thatte my voice worketh from 
the settynge of ye sunne to ye rising thereof and tireth 
notte ! Ye smallest note of alarm setteth me off into a 
spasm of eloquence which lasteth for a whole day soe 
thatte alle menne curse & wish I were deade I Sende 
me !" 

" Buite thou niakest much noise & sayest nothynge !" 
objected ye BuUe. 

" And who ever heard of a politician that didde other- 
wise ?" demanded ye Smalle Dogge. But they were silent ; 
for of a iruth none wisted. 

Juste thenne ye Ass appeared among themme. "Be 
silent 1" he brayed, as he tooke ye stande. 

" I am ITTE 1" he sedde with a swagger. " Thys 
meetynge wille now stande adjourned. For beholde ! I 
have mayde all ye rabble outside to gette drunk on beere. 
Likewise I have subsidized ye dailie papers & stolen ye 
ballot-box. I am rich & therefore I have been able to cul- 
tivate a puUe. Alsoe I am eloquent & my kyck wille 
make me a power inne ye Senate whenne itte cometh to 
ye firste rough house. For, marry & gosh-durn ! whenne 
ye scrimmage is over ye house wille look like unto a 
gentle & honorable passage-at-arms inne Breathitt County, 
Kentucky !" 

Thenne ye Ass arose, kycked ye gavel through ye sky- 
light, piled alle ye delegates uponne ye floorc for ye 
count, took ye nomination inne hys teeth & walked off to 
glory & honor. 

For itte is soe thatte \e rabble loveth to be repre- 
sented by an Ass who can bray, yette say naught ; drink 
things, make ye biggest kyck inne a rough house & bring 
glory & notoriety uponne hys native lande. 

First Gurgle : Beere, graft & a pulle ; these are ye 
Three Graces of ye politician. 

Second Chunk : Looke notte for a wise manne inne 
politics. Wisdom stayeth afar & hoeih corn. 

Third Wise Gob : Whenne thou canst no longer earn 
a decent living driving a dray — enter politics ; & the I-ord 
have mercie on thy sinnefuUe soule ! 

Ye Olde Rooster & ve Olde Henxe. 

IXCE uponne a tyme, deare children, there lived 
an olde Rooster who hadde gone manie sea- 
sons withoute taking unto hymselfe a wife. 

& itte was soe thatte he hadde lived 

' happilie & felt nottee ye hande of trouble ; 

for he was a luckie olde Rooster & hys life was a cinch. 

Butte one day he became possessed of an idea. 

■' Itte is nottee goode for me to die an olde bachelor !" 
quoth he. •' Lo, I shalle go forth & finde me a wife !" 

For be hadde become a disciple of a strenuous Lion 
who went aboute through ye lande preaching ye doctrine 
of No Race-suicide. 

Now, ye olde Rooster was meek & inoffensive, with a 
weak chinne & a balde hedde. Hence, of course, he fixed 
hys affections uponne a stronge-minded olde Henne & 
worshiped her afar off. 

"She looketh goode to me !" sighed ye olde Rooster. 
" Beholde ! I who have butte little character, am sorelie 
inne need of some one to holde me straight !" & he asked 
her to be hys. 

For itte is even soe thatte manie an olde Rooster who 
goeth through lite havynge a goode tyme becometh aweary 
of perfect peace & swappeth the same for a few briet 
yeares inne helle. 

While hys hedde groweth more balde & hys hearte is 
broken into fragments. Alsoe hys peace of minde de- 

parteth & he longeth for ye chance to goe uponne a 
jagge, yette dareth notte looke uponne ye wine, lest ye 
wife of hys bosom smite hymme fuUe sore uponne ye 
hedde & putte hys intellect uponne ye bumme. 

& itte came to pass thatte ere ye honeymoon was half 
over ye olde Rooster looked uponne a yellow dogge & 
longed to be itte. 

" Marry & gosh-dern !" he soboed, " butte itte were 
better to be a yellow dogge than a human reticule dang- 
ling atte ye waiste of a stronge-minded female !" Thenne 
he started & grew payle for thatte he hadde uttered 

& one day they founde hymme outte on ye scrappe- 
heape with hys feete stycking uppe in ye aire. A letter 
was oy hys side and ye coroner wept as he read: 

" Firot Sneeze : Ere thou plunge inne, finde if ye 
matrimonial sea be too hotte for thee." 

" Second Wozzle : If thou have a weak character — 
try notte to mend itte bv marriage." 

" Third Wallop : Beware ye stronge-minded olde 
Henne who weareth ye mole onne her chinne & hath no 
use for children !" 

Tavle of Ye Animal Court. 

n~ IHE animals were trying ye Catte for murder. 

Ye Monk was judge & ye Olde Dogge was 
prosecuting attorney for ye Stayte. Ye pris- 
oner was defended by ye Sly Foxe. 

' A thousand spectators were present, for 

itte was a famous case. All about ye bar policemen stood 
& groaned, for they were verie fatte. 

"Your Honor," sedde ye sly Foxe, "I move that ye 
charge be quashed. F<Jr in ye complaynt I find my cli- 
ent's name is misspelled !" 

& there was much grief atte ye prospect, for of a truth 
ye Catte was a noted criminal. 

Ye olde Monk scratched hys balde hedde. " Itte is a 
serious mistayke !" he sedde, & looked atte ye prosecutor. 

"Butte ye Cattie is guiltie !" roared ye Olde Dogge. 

" Butte ye complaynt is defective !" grinned ye Sly 

"Complaynt or no complaynt," howled ye indignant 
Olde Dogge, " ye Catte is a murderer. He killed ye Spar- 
row in Colde Bloode !" 

" Butte two Commas are left oute !" submitted ye Sly 
Fo.xe, " & I must ask ye Court to give my injured client 
hys libertie !" 

" According to precedent," sedde ye Judge as he putte 
on hys spectacles & read a passage from ye ancient case 
of Snaik vs. Fieldmouse, " I must find in accordance with 
ye prayer of ye Sly Foxe. Ye defendant is acquitted." 

" Itte is notte Justice !" howled ye Olde Dogge. 

Ye Sly Foxe grinned. " Butte itte is Law !" he yapped, 
& went outte with ye Catte to take a drink. 

First Burble : Law hath grown, in ye Animal King- 
dom, to be sixteen to one. Ye one part is Justice. 

Second Spasm : Ye Lawyer hath defeated Justice 
more times than ever Crime. 

Ye Wallop : No crime is dangerous if thou butte 
know ye Ropes. 




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Poets of the Springtime 

By Morris Wade 

OW Cometh the poet of the springtime. 
There are a great many of him and 
more of her. They are sending their 
" little brain children " broadcast over 
the land to the profit of the postal service 
and to the distraction of poetry-worn 
editors. Many of these editors know 
just how 'Gene Field felt when he wrote 
briefly, " Because you sent it by mail," 
to the poet whose effusion was entitled, 
" Why Do I Live ?" The pussy-willow, 
the coming-up of the crocus, the swell- 
ing of the buds, the spring zephyrs, the 
birds preparing to mate and bring forth their " birdlets " 

all these are productive ot couplets, quatrains, sonnets, 

madrigals and every other form of poetic expression. 
Cupid is supposed to get in his work with telling effect in 
the springtime, when the young man's fancy " lightly 
turns to thoughts of love," and the poet is inspired to tell 
the editor all about it in lines like these : 

" Ah, 'tis the spring, 'tis the spring ! 
I tune my harp and sing and sing ! 
The years are not to me and mine 
For in our hearts is the sweet springtime. 
And love is ours, dear love, to thee I sing, 
My heart is full of thee this spring." 

With this comes a little note on lavender-tinted and 
violet-scented paper, in which the author assures the 
editor that the poem is " entirely original," and that 
" competent critics " have pronounced it far superior to 
anything that has yet appeared in his magazine, but not 
even this proof of the merit of the poem influences the 
editor to accept it, and it goes back to its author with a 
" declined-with-thanks " slip. The next spring poet tells 
the editor that — 

" The glad springtime is in my heart, 

1 shout and sing for glee ! 
My love comes up the grassy lane, 

I stand and wait for he ! 
A Irog, it croaketh loud and clear, 

A bird sings on a wall. 
And from the distant meadow land 

The bossy cow doth bawl. 
These sweet spring sounds are naught to me, 

When my lover's voice I hear, 
And his dear arms round me twine, 

And his whisperings are in my ear !" 

"She's got it bad," is all the comment the editor says, 
but that is sufficient to prove that this rhapsody will also 
find its way back to its author. A single stanza of the 
next poem in the editor's mail convinces him that the 
poem is not up to the mark : 

" Spring Cometh ! 

1 live ! I love ! 
Sing, litUe birds 1 Thou and thy mate 
Sing, sweet warblers, early and late. 

When wilt thou be 

Like him and me 
Happy ! Ah, God ! how happy are we ! 

Ha, ha ! What recks it me 

When I loveth him and he loveth me ?" 

The author of the next poetic spasm says in the letter 
sent with it: "I desire you to know that the inclosed 
sonnet of six lines are entirely of my own composure with- 
out assistance from no one. It is not my first attempt at 
poetickal composition,, as I am the awthor of something 
like one hundred poems wrote by myself on various lines 
of thought. Some has been published in our town paper. 
If desired will be pleased to send you one a week for your 
own sheet on any subject wished. The inclosed was 
wrote in thirteen minutes, although I had not thought it 
up before I wrote it. It comes natchrel to me to write 
poetry, one of my own uncles having went crazy while 
writing poetry and my grandmother on one side often 
wrote wedding, birth and death poetry. Inclosed find 
poetry as follows to-wit : 

" What means this wild commotion, 
This upheaval of naturer's forces 
And rejuvenating of the world? 
Ah ! the bonds of old winter are broke, 
His dominion endeth, and why ? , 
All natures gives reply — ' Spring is here !' " 

The editor had just pounded a postage-stamp on the 
envelope in which this " sonnet of six lines " was to be 
returned when a poetess appeared in person. She was 
about twenty years older than she would have cared 
to own up to, and her goklen-brown and wavy 
" front " was a good many shades darker than the rest ot 
her hair. Her manners were of the " kittenish " order and 
she spoke with a trilling sort of a gurgle. The editor took 
his heels from his desk, put on his coat, laid aside his 
cigar and in other ways acknowledged the unwonted 
presence of a lady in his lair. 

"Good-morning," she said, with a smile that revealed 
the lack of skill of the dentist who had made her " upper 
plate." " Am I very, very naughty to come in p%rson 
instead of writing to you ? A personal interview is so 
much more satisfactory, don't you know .' I have always 
felt that if I were an editor I would want to see a// of my 
contributors, for there is so much in a personality, don't 
you know ? Thanks, I v/i/l sit down just a moment or 
two, and I'll tell you right awav what I have come for. 
My friends are just determined that 1 shall publish some 
of my poor little verses that I know are not worthy the 

name of poetry. Some ot my friends have been good 
enougli to say that my lines sometimes suggest Browning, 
and if they do, it is not because I am trying to imitate 
that dear, dear poet. He was everything to me ! 1 can 
hardly speak his name without tears. And Tennyson ! 
It seemed to me that a part of my very life died with him ! 
Do you exchange with the Guiding Star? No? If you 
did you would perhaps be familiar with my work. I 
wanted to read one or two of my poems to you myself, 
for I think that only the author can properly interpret the 
soul of a poem. This came to me in the dead of night, 
and I got up and scribbled it off on a fly-leaf hastily torn 
from a book : 

' Oh, pansy of the springtime ! 

Oh, flower of purple hue ! 

Oh, white and golden rim 

Tliat doth encircle you ! 
What magic and what mystery within tliy form doth dwell ! 
What giveth thee th)' color ? Who knows ? Ah, well ! 
Keep tliou thy secret if thou wilt, and only give to me 
Thy beauty and thy fragrance, and grateful will I be.' 

" Of course I do not claim that there is anything so 
very deep in my poor little rhyme, and yet I fancy it will 
awaken a responsive chord in many hearts. Now, here 
is something with a deeper note of feeling in it. I call it 
' To Our President ': 

' Oh. man of might and destiny 
Who occupies! the White House chair I 
What cares are thine 
That thou alone must bear ! 
A nation's weal or woe 
Is in thy grip ; 

Hast thou not need, oh, Theodore, 
Of all thy statesmanship ? 
No glittering baubles on thy brow, 
No sceptre and no crown, , 

j No robes of state, yet all allow 

it Thou art a sovereign born. 

' And north and south and east and west, 

And all our nation o'er. 
The people bow to thy behest, 
Oh, Theodore ! our Theodore !' 

" I have read that to a number ot my friends and they 
have all declared that they never heard anything like it 
before," she said, as she wiped her eyes and manifested 
other signs of emotion. " Sometimes I dash off quaint 
little humorous conceits like this : 

' A springtime odor fill> the air. 
It greets my nostrils ev'rywhere ; 
'Tis not from fl'iwer or growing thing, 
This certain harbinger of spring ; 
'Tis not from earth or soft blue sky. 
This smell that greets both you and I ; 
It is — it is — Uh, fie, how rash. 
To write such lines to burning trash !' 

" I'm sure I have as little conceit as most poets, but I 
do think that is rather clever. Some of my friends have 
laughed even more heartilv over this little humorous 
fancy : 


' Hang out the bed-clothes. 

Beat the rugs. 
Take up the carpets. 

And kill the bugs. 
Paint, stain and varnish 

All over the house — 
Set traps for rats 

And also for mouse. 
Sweep and dust 

And clean the floor • 

From up in the attic 

Down to cellar door. 
" All these duties to thee I bring," 

Says spring, sweet spring !' 

" I have twenty or thirty other poems with me, but ot 
course I know you haven't time for all of them, so I'll just 
read one more to you and — you have an engagement ? 
Then, of course, I'll not detain you. Oh, thank you ; I'll 
be delighted to leave the poems and you can select those 
you wish. Yes. Shall 1 call again, or — oh, certainly, 
return those you do not want l)y mail. Good-bye, and 
thank you for being so nice to me. I know now that it 
isn't true that editors are all so dreadfully dreadful. I feel 
awfully naughty taking up so much of your time. Good- 

Then the editor rips open a pale-blue envelope and 
draws forth a sheet of pale-blue paper with a gold mono- 
gram, and reads : 

•' Spring is here, oh, gentle spring ! 

Tra la, tra la, tra la, la, la, la ! 
Spring is here, oh, hear me sing, 

Tra la, tra la, tra la, la, la, la, 
Oh, spring, sweet spring, I " 

Then the editor says things not to be recorded here 
and joyfully accepts the invitation of a member of the 
staff, who thrusts his head in at the door with an invita- 
tion to go out and " have something." 

An Easter Lay. 

I'D sing the glamour of the Easter hat. 
But 'twould demand too serious a strain — 
The Easter costume with its flowing train, 
The Easter lily — shopworn subject that ! 
And Easter beer is oft a trifle flat ; 

For rhyme's exigencies 'tis somew hat plain. 
So let me sound the glorious lyre again 
Upon a theme where I know where I'm at. 
1 sing the faithful bird whose modest lay, 
Though not as liquid as the nightingale's. 
Rings solid 'mid the Easter regimen. 
In fame's bright roster no part doth she play, 
Yet many an aureole before it pales — 
The deathless glory of our native hen. 


All Who Run Can Read. 

Her husband — " Now, there's Mrs. Meeker. I know 
that she makes all her own clothes, yet you never hear 
her say a word about it." 

Mrs. Marter — " Humph ! It isn't necessary." 


ECAUSE a man is what he thinks he is it does not fol- 
low that he is what he claims to be. 


I am a I-talian man, 

Big-a biz on da street-a I do, 
Sell-a da fruit-a and banan' 

At five-a cent for two. 

But chestnuts no more-a pay, 

Can't-a make-a my rent : 
Da newspap' take-a dat trade 

By da Sunday supplement. 


•' After all, the great Amer- 
ican game is often played on 
the European plan." 

" How's that ?" 

" All talk and no fight." 


..WillieSkidds rapped at Mrs. 
Bicker's door, and when that 
lady opened it he explained that his mamma had gone out and he 
couldn't get into the kitchen to get anything to make mud-pies in, and 
would Mrs. Bicker lend him a jar ? 

" What kind of a jar, Willie ?" 

" Oh, a family jar will do. Mamma says you have plenty of them." 

(A new adaptation.') 

The medium (triumphantly, as a scratching noise is heard in 
the cabinet) — " Now if that isn't spirits, what is it .'" 
Voice (in the audience) — " Rats !" 

The boy scorched on the bicycle bridge, 

Whence all but him had fled. 
The moon lit up the bicycle wreck, 

And the boy stood on his head. 

"It beats all what these city folks won't git up next. 
Naow, I s'pose all I've got t' do ef a fire breaks aout is t' grab 
me duds an' jump frum th' winder." 

As It Mi^ht Be 

By Everett McNeil 


HE other night I attended a woman- 
suffrage lecture. The orator was 
extremely radical and eloquent, 
and the collation, served after the 
lecture by the enthusiastic mem- 
bers of the Universal Sisterhood of 
Amalgamated Woman Suffragists, 
before whom the lecture was deliv- 
ered, was particularly delectable 
and appetizing, and I ate appreci- 
atively and abundantly of the rich 
viands. The next morning I awoke, 
or thought I awoke, with my wife's 
elbow poking me in the ribs. 

" John ! John !" she was saying, 
emphasizing each "John" with a 
thrust of her elbow. " John ! it is 
time to get up. I must have an 
early breakfast this morning. I 
have got to get to the office by 
eight o'clock, and it is nearly six now. Come, get a hus- 
tle on you. I'll have some pork-chops and eggs and hot 
muffins. Make the coffee good and strong. Call me in 
halt an hour. Now, hurry, John," and, with a final dig 
of her elbow, she turned over and closed her eyes, and in 
tnree minutes more her heavy breathmg told me that she 
was asleep. 

I lay for a few minutes dreamily wondering what it all 
meant, and then, with a sigh, I brushed the sleep cob- 
webs from my eyes and got out of bed. I remember 
staring for a minute or so a little blankly at the clothes 
hanging on the back of tlie chair and evidently mine ; 
and then, with curiously familiar hands, [ put them on, 
and buttoned and hooked and pinned them up until every- 
thing was safe, and, quickly doing up my hair while 
deftly holding the needed hairpins in my mouth without 
dropping or swallowing one, I hurried to the kitchen, 
for Mary must have her breaklast on time, and we had 
no hired boy. 

At exactly half-past six I went to the bedroom door 
and called, " Mary, Mary, it's half-past six ! Time to get 
up. Breakfast will be ready by the time you are ready 
for it." 

Mary grunted and rolled over, and I went back to my 
work in the kitchen. 

Fifteen minutes later I again rapped on the bedroom 
door and called, " Are you up, Mary ? Breakfast will be 
ready in five minutes, and it is now nearly seven o'clock." 
"All right ! I'm coming !" and I heard Mary stretch- 
ing and yawning, and again went back to the kitchen. 

When the clock struck seven breakfast was all ready, 
and I sat waiting for Mary to put in her appearance. For 
fifteen minutes I waited, and then I again hurried to the 
bedroom. Mary was out of bed and putting on her pan- 

"Confound it all! There goes a button!" she ex- 

claimed angrily, just as I entered the room. " I do wish 
you would sew the buttons on so that they would stay, 
John. Now, hurry and get a needle and thread and sew 
this on. Quick, I can't wait all day." 

I secured the button in its proper place with all possi- 
ble speed, Mary, in the meantime, grumbling at me and 
trying to put on her collar. I heard something fall to the 
floor and roll away. 

" Heavens, my collar-button ! Do find it, John ! I'd 
like to get hold of the woman who invented collar-but- 
tons. I'd " and she clinched and unclinched her 

strong hands suggestively. 

I found the collar-button and restored it to Mary. 
She fastened the collar and began fumbling with the tie, 
her face growing redder and redder each moment. 

" Blame the old thing ! I can't see what has got into 
it this morning !" and she gave the silk ribbon an angry 
yank. " Come and tie it for me, John. That's a good 
little man," and, giving one cheek a playful little pinch, 
she kissed me on the other. 

I tied the cravat and then hurried away to our pretty 
little dining-room to get everything on the table, so that 
Mary would not have to wait a moment, for she was- 
already late. She came in just as the clock was striking 
the half-hour. 

•• Great guns ! Half-past seven ! And I am due at the 
office at eight ! I told you to call me at six-thirty, John !" 
and Mary glared at me as she plumped herself down in 
her chair and began shoveling down the food. "Great 
Cassar ! these muffins are as tough as sole leather. I wish 
you'd see father, John, and have him tell you how to make 
real muffins." 

Mary ate seven of the tough muffins and then tackled 
the pork-chops. 

" Dry as a bone again !" she exclaimed disgustedly, at 
the first bite. " Bet they have been in the oven for the 
last half-hour keeping warm. I don't see why you can't 
calculate the time better, John." 

I mildly reminded her that breakfast had been ready 
for the last half-hour, awaiting her good pleasure, and 
that I had had to put the chops in the oven to keep them 
warm. Her only answer was a grunt, as she made a dive 
for her hat and overcoat. 

" Won't be back until late. Here's a ten for your day's 
shopping. Good-bye," and, slapping a ten-dollar bill down 
on the table, she hurried away, forgetting in her rush to 
give me the usual good-bye kiss. 

I busied myself about the house until afternoon, when 
I went down town to do somi shopping. For a few min- 
utes after I reached the street I felt unaccountably strange 
and queer, and found myself staring at the people I met 
almost as if they were denizens of another planet. I 
saw many pretty young girls dressed in pantaloons and 
wearing coats and vests, who always touched their hats 
to me and to all other gentlemen whom they met. The 
men all had funny little hats stuck up on the tops of their 

heads, kept their faces smooth shaven, let their hair grow 
lon;j, and wore queer-looking, gayly-colored jackets, short 
skirts and high-heeled French shoes. Many of them car- 
ried parasols, and they were continually endeavoring to 
attract the attention of the women, without seeming to do 
so. All the coachmen and footmen I saw on the car- 
riages were well-formed, fine-looking, uniformed young 
women ; and it was surprising to see how quickly and 
gracefully they helped the richly-dressed and jeweled men 
in and out of their carriages. 

At Broadway I boarded a crowded street-car ; and the 
moment I entered the door three young women jumped 
to their feet and politely offered me their seats. I sat 
down, without even acknowledging the courtesy of the 
young woman who had given me her seat, and looked 
around. Above my head, on the advertising boards on 
the other side of the car, I read, 

" A vote for Elizabeth Amanda Hill for mayor of New 
York is a vote against the grafters and the saloon-keepers, 
and for the protection of our homes and husbands and chil- 

And by its side I saw printed, in large blue letters, the 
following : 

• "Lena Lucinda Rosenhill is the laboring woman's best 
friend. A vote for her for mayor of New York means a 
vote for more hours at home with husband and baby. 
Better pay and less work. A nail in the coffin of the 
greedy monopolist, ^"ote early. \'ote right. Vote straight. 
Vote for Lena Lucinda Rosenhill." 

Every block or two, great banners, emblazoned with 
the names and the portraits of the opposing candidates, 
were stretched across Broadway ; and I noticed that all 
the candidates, from the mayor down, were women. I 
bought a newspaper. It was full of ante-election news, 
and I discovered that the president of the United States, 
all the members of congress — in short, that all the offices, 
city, state and national, were filled by women ; and that in 
all the states but one, Utah, men had been disfranchised. 

In one corner of the newspaper, printed in small type, I 
came across a short news item which read, 


" KlCK.\POO, Arizona : The convention of the National 
Man-suffragists' Association in this city to-day was a 
bitter disappointment to the most ardent supporters of the 
movement. Delegates from only thirteen states were 
present. Little business was transacted, the delegates 
spending the greater part of their time in useless bicker- 
ings. It is said that three hours of the time were taken up 
by a discussion of the propriety of a woman giving up her 
seat in a street-car to a man, unless he was old or feeble, 
and two hours to the consideration of whether or not it 
was contrary to the teachings of the bible for men to be 
ordained as ministers of the gospel. Before the conven- 
tion adjourned it was voted that a concerted eflTort be 
made in all the states by all men-suffragists to secure for 
all males of legal voting age the right to vote on all school 
matters. The next convention will be held at Medicine 
Bow, Oklahoma." 

I got off the street-car in front of the large department- 
store where I was to do my shopping. It was bargain- 
day at this store, and a continuous stream of well-dressed 

me;^. was pouring through its doors. I hastened toward 
the bargain-counter, where silk ribbons two inches wide 
and valued at one dollar a yard were being offered, to-day 
only, lor ninety-nine and one-half cents, fearful that I 
would be too late to take advantage of this remarkable 
bargain, and in an instant found myself in the resistless 
sweep of a stream of pushing, shoving, elbowing, yelling, 
sweating men, all struggling desperately toward that rib- 
bon-counter. In one minute my corns had been stepped 
on sixteen times, my dress torn, my hat knocked off my 
head, three ribs broken, and I w'as sinking fainting to the 
floor, to be trampled under the feet of the heartless on- 
rushing bargain grabbers, whose loud breathings and 
mutterings sounded in my ears like the gibberings of 
fiends, when, suddenly, I felt two arms thrust around 
me, and I was lifted up and out of that seething mass and 
dropped — sprawling on my own bedroom floor, with 
Mary bending laughingly over me. 

•• John ! John I" she cried, " in the name of all that is 
terrible, what horrible thing were you dreaming about ? 
Your face looked as if your body was being passed slowly 
between the rollers of a gigantic wrmger, so I yanked you 
out of bed to break the spell. Now, hurry up and get 
dressed. I have already called you three times, and 
breakfast is all ready. If you don't get a hustle on you 
vou will be late at the office," and she hurried back to the 

I got slowly to my feet and looked apprehensively 
toward the chair, on whose back I usually hung my 
clothes, and saw a pair of trousers hanging there. They 
were mine I and, with a sigh of infinite satisfaction and 
joy. I slipped them quickly on over my own legs, and 
vowed, way down deep in my inmost being, that never, 
never again would I attend a woman-suffrage meeting. 

The Breeze in the Bough. 

|OP light, ladies : 
Cake 's all dough, 
Nebber mind de wedder 
So de wind don't blow. 


Jump light, ladies ! 

Wine all lees. 
Nebber mind de wedder 

So us is got a breeze. 

Skip light, ladies ! 

Pie 's all crus'. 
Nebber mind de wind so 

It don't raise a dus' ! 

Trip light, ladies ! 

Beer 's all foam. 
Nebber mind de wedder 

So de wind blow hom ;. 

Hop light, ladies ! 

Nebber mind how. 
Us ruck-a-way to sleep when 

De breeze am in de bough. 


Reverend Fourthly 
gone to-morrow." 

Knicker — " That's not the worst, 
morrow and the cook is gone to-day." 

Ah ! we are here to-day and 
We are here to- 



The parent — "Tommy, I've asked you twice if you know who has been at 
the jam-closet, and I am wailing for an answer." 

The CHILI) — *' Mamma, I must refuse to give you an answer on the ground 
that it might tend to discriminate and ingrade me," 

An Ancient Problem Settled. 

At Slocum's school-house Fridav 
'» iiiglits. 

Through mud and fog and snow. 
The Henry Clay debating lights 

Still hie themselves to blow ; 
And just as lofty are their flights 

As forty years ago. 

The moderator's tawny head, 
Though now a little bald, 

Still by the candle shows the red 
That once the girls appalled. 

'Tis most beyond l)eHef. 'tis said, 
The rails that he has mauled. 

And old Cy Perkins has the floor ; 

Hot words flow from his tongue. 
Much as they did on nights of yore. 

When he was hale and young. 
But there's less power in his roar — 

They say he's lost a lung. 

" Once more I claim, before all men !" — 
A stilhiess reigns about — 

" Once more I say, it is the hen 

That hatched the chicken out 
That is its lawful mother." Then 
There is an awful shout. 

A disk sails gleaming through the air 
.^nd brings up very short 

Against the rim of old Cy's hair. 
And makes a great report. 

And then a voice calls to the chair, 
" Give your decision, • Sport.' " 

The moderator turns his eyes 
Toward the shattered shells. 
" I much regret," he sad replies, 
'• That circumstance compels 
Me to decide that my friend Cy 's 
That chicken's motlier." (Veils.) 


The Auto Cop. 

»<YES," says the officer to the sergeant, holding to his 
prisoner ; " I took this young man into custody for 
speeding his auto too fast. He was riding through the 
park with a young lady, and was evidently paying more 
attention to her than to his machine, and did not seem to 
know that the auto was going twenty miles an hour." 

" Sparking her, was he ?" asks the sergeant, opening 
the blotter. 

" That makes him a spark-arrester, doesn't it ?" asks 
the prisoner. 

For Example. 

((AS FOR me," stated the petulant person, " I can see no 
diflference between half a loaf and no bread." 
" But there is a difference," replied the practical one. 
" Wouldn't you prefer a whole doughnut to a doughnut 
hole ?" 

Perfect Surroundings. 

Thespis — " So his Arctic lecture was realistic ?" 
Foyer — " Yes ; the most beautiful frost you ever saw." 

Another Puzzle. 

Howson Lott — •' Here's a copy of the new time-table." 
Suburbs — " What's new about it ?" 
Howson Lott — "The way it's folded." 


COME men have no respect for grim denth. There was 
Motor, for instance. The doctor was on his way- 
home with a live duck when Motor's big touring-car 
struck him. Both the doctor and the duck were killed. 
Motor gazetl reflectively at the remains for a few moments 
and then remarked, 

" Well, neither of them will ever quack again." 

The Other Side of It. 

' '\I^' J'^KE," said the ward-heeler ; " I can't put up any 
more stuff for you. You went against me last fall, 
after you had my money. The trouble with you is you 
won't stay bought." 

" You're wrong, Pete," argued the honest voter. "The 
trouble ain't with me. Seems as if my vote was so blamed 
contrary it won't stay sold." 

A Friend in Need. 

Jaggles — " Does he regret the time he spent as a 
waiter while working his way through college ?" 

Waggles — "1 should say not! Since he graduated 
it's the only thing that has brought him in a living." 

(( I SEE that King Edward is traveling incog." 
" Something new in at 

I automobiles, I suppose." 

z < z 
<: S < 

S r 2 

e 3 = 

r- 5 H 







" Thar, now, b' gosh ! that oughter make them old maids an' 
bachelors come ter time." 

Truth Lies. 

li/E pass by the de- 
serted well, but are 
attracted by faint cries 
for help from its depths. 

Turning back, we 
ask, " Who is there ?" 

" Truth," is the an- 

One on the Reponer. 

Ii/E were in the office of the stock-yards, wait- 
^^ ing- for the yard crew to get the cars for our 
town. Dan Eagan, a new reporter, was sitting 
at a desk in the corner of the office, working on 
the stock-list which his paper published. Bill 
Sanford, the yard conductor, came in and said to 
Hoffman, the chief clerk, " We got about ten cars 
of Buffalos this morning " meaning, as all stock- 
men know, ten cars of hogs for Buffalo. Eagan 
had his ears open for news, but did not understand 
the terms used by the stockmen, and we all no- 
ticed that he quickly got through his stock-list 
and went out. 

After we had finished " penning " the stock, 
we went into the stock-yard office and were pre- 
paring to go home, when in came Eagan, the 
most bedraggled fellow a person would care to 
lay eyes on — his coat was torn, pants muddy and 
shoes soaked, and he was nearly frozen. After he 
warmed himself up he looked around and saw 
Sanford and said, 

"Say, where did you put those buffaloes that 
you told Hoffman you had this mot-ning ? I've 
been all through this bloody yard, and I'll be 
darned if I can find anything that looks like a 

To this day his friends' greeting to Eagan is, 
" Hello ! found any buffaloes yet ?" 

Joseph M. Ward, Buffalo, New York. 

Far Worse. 

WE think the way the cat comes back 
Is really quite a pity, 
But it is worse the way the man 
Returns unto the kitty. 


Is that so ?" 


ask. " How 
get in there ?" 

" Oh, I just climbed 
down to see if there 
was anything in this." 

Reflecting that peo- 
ple are prone to make 
excuses for the predica- 
ments in which they are 
found, and bearing in 
mind that even Truth 
lies at the bottom of a 
well, we pass on, mus- 
ing upon the unexpect- 
ed way in which the 
verity of an axiom is 


Frayed Fagin — " Oh, yes ; I loved a girl once, but she give me de shake, 

Torn Thompson — " Wot kind uv stone?" 

Frayed Fagin — "Soapstone. She said I didn't wash often enough." 

She had a heart uv 

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Wilfred's Letters from the Country 


By F. P. Pitzer 


skool had hardly clozed 
its doors wen Maw sed she 
must leeve Paw at hoam 
and go Away tu the kun- 
try with awl the children 
caws Paw needed a Rest 
being, as he wos, awl run 
down, i asked Maw if he 
wos run down by a Orto- 
mobeel, but she only lafifed. 
we have thirteen children 
in are Family, a Beggar's 
dozen as Paw kails them, 
he says the odds agenst 
his getting ritch is 13 to 
I. Maw got sevral Bloo 
Ribbins from president Roosvelt. 

So Maw an Liza— Liza's are servint gurl ; gess she 
must be maid of meersham caws she's orfully colored — 
kommenst tu pack up and thare wos more trunks laying 
arownd the hows than a Heard of EUerfunts possess an 
Maw had em awl packt so full that yu koodent squeeze in 
any I of them a pebble even if it wos maid of sponge. 
Liza had tu paist onto each I sum sekond hand labels 
w'ith foren ritin onto them witch Maw purchast down 
Town for fifty sents a bundle. 

unforchinately Maw mistook Paw's pants for a peese of 
fancy work and packt it at the bottom of the biggest 
trunk. He kood have gone withovvt them — no-0-0, I don't 
meen that, I meen he had a other pare, but he only had i 
pare of Suspenders and Maw left them onto the pants she 
buried m the trunk, as I sed befor Paw only owned one 
pare of Suspenders and thare wos no possibil chans of his 
gettin a other Pare caws Christmas was six months orl 

Maw sed she woodn't open up that trunk agen if Ni- 
agra froze over and then Paw asked her if she thort his 
trowsirs were going tu be Held up by Hiwaymen. altera 
good long Fight thay compromised by Maw going into a 
naybors an borrowing a pare. 

wen the expressman he came he carried down the trunks 
an broke evry Thing in the hows exsept the tu (2) dollar 
bill wot Paw gave him to talk owt five (5) sents for a tip. 
Paw is still wating for him tu come back with the change. 
Maw had desided tu go sumware into the Catskill 
mowntins via bote, so we awl trotted with her down to 
the peer. Maw went up tu a caje markt " Tickets." As I 
had orfen seen munkeys, Girafts and Jaggers up at the 
zoo I wanted tu see wot a Ticket lookt like, so I warked 
up tu the caje, but the only animal I saw was a man. 
Maw says tu him," One hole ticket and thirteen haves." 
The man was slitely def I gess caws he sed tu Maw, 
" Yule haf tu go tu the frate orfis lady for tickets for thin 

teen calves." " Mo ; haves, I want " screemed Maw, " aint 
these the quarters tu get haves ?" Then the fellar says 
" Excursion ?" Maw lookt down at us awl standin in sin- 
gle file and says, smiling like, " No ; looks more like a 

Well, at last we got are tickets and then warked onto 
a big ship (bote) and got sects way up into the Front & I 
will tell you abowt awl the sites we seen up the Hudson 
in mi next. Your pupill, 


P. S. Excuse ritin as Paw never wos edchewkated 




" Awl abord !" The gang-plank wos pulled in, the 
whistle shreeked tu cleer its voice I gess, the bote was 
tide loose and we were orf. 

the Hudson is indeed a bootiful river and I dont blaim 
Hen Hudson for leeving his hoam in Hudson County, Nu 
Jersey, to diskover it. Sum Boddy asked ware Hen's re- 
mains kood be fownd, and I sed on page 124 of my skool 
histry wareon, as yu know, is a picture of Hudson with a 
i gowged owt and his fase distorted unmercifully with led 

the sites up the river were wonderful and it seemed 
that everything worth seein along the line was known and 
pointed owt bi persons on bord. Eeetch thing got a haf 
dozen diffrent naims and I didn't know wot was wot or 
vice versa (wich meens the same thing lookt at frum the 
reer). the brewery (which is one of the institushuns 
wich Paw's charity an fiUanthropic contributions help tu 
support) at Weehawken was pointed owt as Clumbia Col- 
lege, the ladycliff Semniinary was pointed owt as Wash- 
ington's hedquarters and wen awl the gurls came owt tu 
waiv hankerchiffs the yung men standin neerbi sed thay 
didnt blami George for making his hedquarters there, an 
thay sed only a brave man kood do it, too, with that flock 
of lonesum gurls arownd. 

we past (General Grant's ded toom and Sing-Sing that 
land of the unfree and hoam of the depraved. 

the next town we past, a dood sed tu his gurl " Haver- 
straw " and she sed she wood if thare was a creem soda at 
the other end of it. She was orful smart. 

a old- farmer on the bote was looking at the big rownd 
life preservers tide onto the ralings and sed tu me 
" Sonny, wot's them ?" I tride hard tu keep from laffin 
and thinking tu hav a little fun I sed " Thayre dcKigh 
nuts ;.no thay aint thayre quay-rings." Wasn't that a fine 
joke ; but he didnt lafT one bit ; guess he's used to reed- 
ing the funny papers. 

i lerned that the Injuns were the fust tu land on New 
York, and that the Dutch were the fust to land on the 

we left the Bote at last and hording a trane we rode 
throo the Catskills with awl the little Kittenskills arownd 

them and we didn t get owt until the conductor showted 
" Lanesville." 

then we got owt and fownd it wos a fine plase ; more 
abowt it afterwards. Yure pupill, 


P. S. If thare is any uncouth langwidge in this letter 
excuse Paw as he never does know his plase. 



This is a fine plase. we hav fresh milk, fresh eggs, 
fresh vejetables and fresh w-aitresses. 

thare is no streams on this plase and the only warter 
we hav is in the milk and thares never enuffof that lelt 
wen it reetches are end of the table to let a moskeeter 
wade in over his ankles. 

wen I took orf my Sunday cloze and put on mi old ones 
i went owt into the barn and tride to talk owt sum black 
spots wot wos on the pig's hide, i used a currycomb and 
sum sandpaper wot wos laying arownd. but the dum 
beest only squeeled. gess he didn't want to be cleen. an 
mi how that animal kood devower stuff. He kood eet 
anything frum a rubber boot to a bubber root, whatever 
that is. i throo a pare of old overawls into his sty (i 
fownd them hanging in the barn), he ate them awl up 
and wen thay killed the pig and served him tu the bord- 
ers the latter komplaned of finding suspender-buttons in 
thare pork chops. 

then i climbed up onto the hay and jest as i was 
reetchin for a burdsnest I slipped an slid rite down into a 
big nest full of chicken eggs, i never saw such a drop in 
eggs before, as a commisshun merchant wood sav. the 
eggs didnt brake, only the shells came orf 

Maw sertinly had trubble with us children. Freddie tide 
a cow bell tu a lam's tale and the poor thing got so scared 
she ran into the next county and hasnt been seen since. 

Harold asked the bordin missus if he kood give the 
gold fish in the parlor sum cleen warter. She sed yes. 
But the cleen warter that Harold put in the globe was 
boiling hot and the poor fishes were boiled in abowt 
three (3) minnits. We had them for dinner abowt two 
Fridays afterwards wen the lady wot run the hows thort 
that the borders had forgotten the incident. I knew thay 
were the gold fish caws they left a sort of brassy tast in 
your mowth. 

we are sertinly having a grate time with the children — 
more to follow. • Your pupill, 


P. S. I am glad that skool is going to open up soon 



we are here now jest fore daze and alreddy sevral ot 
the children are on the injureil list. Buster has got lumps 
awl over him ware hornets kissed him. thay were either 
glad tu see him or got mad becaws he mistook thare nest 
for a big hickry nut and tride tu crack it with a crokay 

and Arty has a big Brews rite neer ware he hitches 

on his suspenders in the back. It happened as follows, 
tu wit : Arty tride tu slide down the mowntin oppersit our 
bordin hows on a pare of roller skates. He came down 
flying and wood have continued flying with reel wings 
and a harp if he hadnt landed onto a old cow hoo was 
grazing at the foot of the sed mowntin. wen Arty came 
too he tort it was the foot of the mowntin that had kicked 
him. the cow kicked almost as mutch as sum of the 
borders, thare was kinks in her milk for a hole week. 
Arty says the next time he goes roller skating on a mown- 
tin he's going to pick one owt that runs uphill and not 
downhill, his cloze were awl torn with rents in them 
awlmost as big as Nu York landlords are getting. 

we are coming hoam. the propryitor told Maw it 
wood be best if she borded her children until thay were 
21 years old at the Elmira Infirmary or sum sutch plase. 
Maw sed she'd send for a descriptiv circular of the plase. 

the kuntry did us lots of good, i ganed 4 pownds, 
Henrietta 3, Maw 20 1-4. but Paw lost 225 — I think that's 
wot are bord bills amownted to. 

yu wont no me wen I get back tu skool as i am awl 
sun burnt, i look as if the cook had put me in the oven 
to roast and forgot to talk me owt. 

Your loving pupill, WILFRED. 


A BOUT her waist he put his arm. 
'* She did not scream, siie did not shout, 
Or tremble with a wild alarm — 
She didn't even seem put out. 

She did not struggle or grow red. 

As one would naturally opine. 
(Right liere I tiiink it might be said 

Her waist Was hanging on the line.) 


Country Correspondence. 

/^URT PUSEY is visiting his mother back of the slaugh- 
^^ ter-house. He plays some sort of game around at 
county fairs in summer with three walnut-shells and a. 
little ball of printing-ink roller. His hands are stained up 
like he had been hulling walnuts, but he says it's from 
smoking so many cigarettes. 

Aunt Marthy Pusey and the ladies of the High-pressure 
Methodist church are much worked up over the loss of 
their quilting-frames. They were left at Mrs. Deacon 
Hossteter's house last fall, and tliey find that they have 
been used all winter for clothes-props. One of the sticks 
is gnawed clear off at the end, where the deacon used it 
to jab a suck-egg dog out of the barn. 

The blind man that has been here tuning Snodgrass's 
piano goes along the street and into Tom Hawk's Dewey 
saloon without missing the door. Everybody thought he 
did it by the smell till the gang out in front of Wils Sno- 
zier's grocer)- found a dent in the sidewalk that he 
steered by. 

'Mandy Doins has left her place in the city and come 
back home. She says the family where she worked made 
her eat at the second table and wouldn't introduce her to 
their company. david gibson. 


He sits on the bench with anxious face ; 

His team stands second in the race. 
He's a rooter, and he wants first place. 

Ho ! for our hustling manager. 

There goes Lacey to the bat. 

Will he walk or fan or swat ? 
" S-t-r-i-k-e ! Say, umpire, got a rat ?'' 
Asks our scrappy manager. 

Good eye, there, old man ! Hit 'er stout I 
Yer off now, keddy ! Slide ! Not out! 
We'll win in a walk without a doubt. 
Woe ! for the other manager. 


" There, now, my will is made and I have 
that off my mind. The bureau-drawers are in 
order and the closet-shelves dusted. Tell Mary 
to be sure to make bread fresh twice a week 
and not to boil the coffee. II anything happens 




tell my friends to 
forget my faults 
and remember 
only my virtues. 
1 am thankful that 
the children are all 
large enough to 
live without me if 
they should be 
obliged to. Fetch 
me my cloak." 

Thus spake the Boston lady, nor did her household wonder 
when she explained herself : 

'■ I am going up town to do a little shopping, and I am afraid 
it will be necessary for me to pass up Tremont street. If there is 
no e.xplosion of gas from the subway I shall be back in an hour 
or two, or in time lor dinner." 

Penelope — "I doan' like dese yer green 
leabes as well as I does de autumn leabes, 'kase 
de autumn leabes is cullud." 

Store-keeper—" Did yew ride 'way in here jes' ter buy that gallon uv whisky, Abner ?" 
_ ABNER— "W'y. consarn yer hide. Silas ! yew orter knov I wouldn't leave my farm right in ther middle uv plantin' an' ride 'way 
m here jes ter buy a gallon uv whisky. I kem ter town ter-day pupuss ter buy my wife a spool uv w'ite cotten thread, an' gol daro 
my buttons ef I hadn t clean fergot all about that thread until you spoke." 


c a 



" Which do you think is stronger. Mr. Fleecy — love or 
duty ?" asked the old maid. 

" It depends to a considerable extent. Miss Fading, on 
whether you live in New York or Chicago." 


Ill IK^;.., 

I. Cholly Counterpain, tired of the contin- 
uous rush at his bargain-counter, resolves to 
take a week off at the sea-side, thinking the 
change will do him good. 


Triiaiet — " Ours is a very contradictory 

Dicer — " Go on." 

Triwet — " The term ' a sad dog ' usually 
means a particularly gay chap." 

Dicer — "It does; and when you say a 
man is a corker you really mean that he is 
an uncorker." 


Fray silver, is it } Shure. me b'y, yez '11 
find it loike fray lunch whin yez hovn't th' 
proice av a drink. 


DocKSEY Ratz — " Ah, sir, I was once like you — rich, 
happy and contented. Could you spare me a few pennies, sir ?" 

Business man — " I'll give you all I've got left — twenty- 
five cents — if you'll tell me whether that water is warm enough 
to drown comfortably in." 


" I don't like such expressions as ' the glad hand,' ' the 
marble heart', and the like," said Mrs. -Cawker to her 

" Well," replied Mr. Cawker, " wherein do they differ 
from such time-honored phrases as ' the cold shoulder,' 
y ' the hot tongue,' and ' the stony stare ' .'" 

With bated breath we wait to learn what the new man 
will say when a line full of wet clothes falls in the dirt. 

II. But finds himself the only man there, and fails to see just where the 

change comes in. 





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Thusindas Lovc; a Fable that Ends Wron^ 

By James Edward Almond 

,NCE upon a time there lived in the big 
house upon the hill a man and his 
wile and their golden-haired daugh- 
ter. And the daughter was fair of 
face and beautiful to look upon. 
And she lived on cherry-blossoms 
and marmalade and never had to 
darn her stockings or put the cat 
out at night. And she could have 
her dress cut on the bias or have 
three tucks on her right sleeve, just as she chose, and she 
never had to wear a gingham apron to Sunday-school 
or use a collar that the hired girl had worn the week be- 
fore. In fact, she had everything she wanted, but for all 
this she was not happy. 

Frequently when she would go to her trundle-bed at 
night she would weep bitter, salty tears as large as Cali- 
fornia cherries, and often at dinner she would have to 
refuse the third roasting-ear and go sadly from the table 
to her lonely retreat 'neath the willows by the brook. 
And as she watched it gayly babbling on, her heart was 
heavy and she wished she could be carried away with it 
out — out — out on to the broad and beautiful ocean, where 
she could take the water-cure and live happily ever after- 

But, alas ! fate was against her, and her cruel father 
turned a deaf ear to her tender entreaties and ruthlessly 
shut the door in the very lace of her idol — George Wash- 
ington Barrington Barnes. 

And one day the cruel father and mother and the gen- 
tle little Thusinda were strolling along the lakeside watch- 
ing the beauties of the setting sun. But Thusinda's eyes 
were sad and she looked not at the setting sun nor yet at 
the new gold tooth her father had just had put in. For 
her thoughts were far away. 

And, as they were walking along, all of a sudden Thu- 
sinda's foot slipped and she was plunged headlong into 
the icy torrent before her excited parents could do aught. 
And as they stood there, seeing their only child drifting 
away from them, they were helpless and afraid. But, 
just as Thusinda was going down for the second time, 
out of the bushes rushed an heroic figure, and George 
Washington Barrington Barnes galloped bravely to the 
rescue. Ah ! how noble he looked as he strode along, 
and the hearts of the cruel parents were sore grieved at 
their conduct toward him. 

And just as Thusinda started for the bottom for the 
third time our hero had thrown himself into the current. 
Ah ! gentle reader, you no doubt can imagine him now 
as he manfully stems the raging waves. You see him 
grasping her firmly by her flowing locks, clasping her to 
his bosom and then returning to the shore to receive the 
plaudits of the assembled throng. 

But, alas ! as the appointed chronicler of the doings ot 
this family, I am honor bound to tell the truth, sad as it 
may seem. 

George Washington Burringfon Barnes couldn't swim 
a stroke. 

But he tumbled into the river, floundered around for a 
while, anil was finally fished out after Thusinda had been 
saved by a fisher lad who dwelt alone with his father and 
mother and fourteen brothers and sisters in a little cottage 
by the sea. 

And Thusinda married the fisher lad and soon learned 
to make corn-fritters and Graham bread. 

And G. W. B. Barnes drifted far away, and the last 
they heard of him he was on the stage playing the part 
of the watch-dog in "The Chambermaid's Revenge; or. 
Seven Years Under Water." 

Moral ; " Do you go on to the next block or is this 
where you change cars .'" 

The " Eye-rays." 

All sorts of alphabetical rays have now been discov- 
ered, but the newest and most powerlul are the 
" I-rays." — Exchange. 

IT'S hardly safe for one to say 
' What science cannot do to-day ; 
Its triumphs come with such surprise 
They quite outdo all prophecies. 

The ''X-rays" open wonders hid, 
And others still do what they're bid ; 
Till now, in annals rich and rife. 
We almost see the scope of life. 

Yet, with the "Eye-rays," who can doubt. 
All previous wonders are put out ? 
But "new" — oh, no! — for I believe 
They backward date to Mother Eve. 

From her fair brow, with golden grace. 
They flashed on Adam's flurried face ; 
'Twas they that caused the pair to sin 
And all the woes we've tumbled in. 

And now unnumbered Eves to-day 
Are sirens made by this bright ray ; 
And hints of our lost paradise 
Gleani in their winsome, witching eyes. 

What if they cause us woes untold. 
And care and sorrow manifold ? 
What if keen heart-aches they can deal ? 
For them, we like these hurts to feel. 

Who, if he is one-half a man. 
Would wish these potent rays to ban ? 
Without them life would soon grow dull. 
And nothing more seem beautiful. 


The Cause of the Disturbance. 

The farmer (in the side-show, looking around in alarm) 
— " Gosh ! Where's all the rattlesnakes ?" 

The lecturer — "Don't be alarmed, mv friend. It's 
only our living skeleton, who is suffering from the ague, 
you hear." 

The Wron^ "Receipt" 

By W. D. Nesbit 


RS. DUZZIT has at last discovered the 
difference between a " receipt " and a 
'• recipe," througli the ministrations of 
an obedient cook and a careless husband. 
At least, she blames it on her husband's 
carelessness, although he pleads inno- 
cence in that respect, but if feminine 
logic counts for anything, he merits the 

Mrs. Duzzit clipped a recipe for a new 
pudding from her magazine the other day and placed it 
under a book on the library table. Then she paid the 
grocer's bill and threw it with some other settled accounts 
in the drawer of the same table. Concluding one day to 
try the pudding, she said to Lucinda, the cook, as she was 
mapping out the dinner, 

" You go up to the library and tell Mr. Duzzit to give 
you that new receipt I left about the library table. I am 
going shopping and may not get back until dinner is 
ready, but all you need to do is to use just the proportion 
of ingredients given in the receipt, and then we'll see 
whether that new pudding is as good as the magazine 
promised it would be." 

" Yassum," said the obedient Lucinda. 

Mrs. Duzzit left, and Lucinda went to the libraiy. 

" Please, suh," she remarked, " I des wants dat receipt 
Missus Duzzit done lef hyah." 

" What receipt .'" askeil Mr. Duzzit. 

" De one whut tell 'bout all dem t'ings I's got ter put 
in dat new puddm'. She say she put hit on de lib'ry 

Mr. Duzzit tossed the papers about, peered into the 
drawers, and finally handed Lucinda a slip which seemed 
to be what she wanted. 

About half an hour later Lucinda rapped softly on the 
door of the library and apologetically said, 

" 'Scuse me, suh, but mus' I use all des hyah tings 
whut dis hyere papuh sez ter use ?" 

" Sure thing," answered Mr. Duzzit. " Do just as Mrs. 
Duzzit said you should." 

Lucinda returned to her kingdom mumbling about the 
peculiarities of tne white folks, and for the next two hours 
she was busy hunting all over the kitchen and pantry for 
the necessary articles for the pudding. 

At dinner she carried the pudding in on the largest 
tray in the house, and deposited it on the serving-table with 
an air which said that she washed her hands of all conse- 

" What is that, Lucinda ?" asked her mistress. 

" De puddin'." 

•• The pudding ? Goodness gracious ! I never dreamed 
it would be that big. You may help us to some of it, 

When Mr. Duzzit's portion was placed before him he 
scanned it critically, sniffed suspiciously, and turned it 
gingerly over with his spoon. 

Mrs. Duzzit, however, had the courage which comes 
from an implicit faith in the culinary page, and she tried 
a spoonful. 

" Mercy !" she cried. " Why, Lucinda, what in the 
world have you put in this ?" 

" Nufifin' 'cept whut de receipt said ter use," avowed 

" Hum," mused Mr. Duzzit. " It must be a funny 

" Well," asserted Mrs. Duzzit, " I never saw such a 
looking affair before in all my life. Lucinda, you surely 
have made a mistake in mixing it." 

" Deed, I hasn't," stoutly answered the cook. " I 
done use eve'yt'ing des lak de papuh said." 

" Did they offer a cash prize to any one who would eat 
the pudding ?" inquired Mr. Duzzit. " Because, if they 
did, I am about to miss an opportunity to enrich myself, 
for 1 must deprive myself of the extreme pleasure of tac- 
kling this compound." 

" I des gib mah two weeks' notice raight now," an- 
nounced Lucinda. " Yo'-all de fust white folks whut say 
day won't eat mah cookin', en I know whah dey plenty er 
quality folks dat glad ter hab me in dey kitchen. En I 
gwine raight out en fotch in dat receipt, en yo' see fo' 
yo'se'fs dat I des use whut hit say ter use." 

Lucinda retreated to the kitchen in sable dignity, and 
returned solemnly, bearing the " receipt," which read : 

" H. E. Duzzit to I. Feedam, Dr, 
" One can corn, lo cents ; one box shoe polish, 5 cents ; 
six candles, 15 cents ; two pounds rice, 10 cents ; two bars 
washing-soap, 9 cents ; i cake yeast, i cent ; bottle olive 
oil, 25 cents ; one-half peck potatoes, 20 cents ; one 
mackerel, 18 cents ; three pounds prunes, 45 cents ; ten 
pounds salt, 10 cents ; six packages flower seed, 30 cents ; 
one feather-duster, 35 cents. Paid." 

" Dah 't is," said Lucinda. " Dah 't is. En dey all 
in dat ole puddin' 'ceptin' de han'le er dat (eatheh dusteh, 
en' blame' 'f I knows how ter wuk hit in whenst I's stirrin' 
up all dat otheh trash. En ef yo'-all lak dat kin' er puddin", 
den yo' betteh git some otheh lady ter ten' ter de cookin' 
fo' yo', "ca'se I ain't use' ter hit." 

But Mr. Duzzit soberly took his wife by the arm, led 
her to the library, took down the big dictionary, and 
pointed out the words " receipt " and " recipe " and their 

Her Last Argument. 

C"HE wished to move from the distant suburb into the 
roaring midst of Gotham. She had plied all her re- 
sources in argument, but Younghusband was still uncon- 
vinced. Then, with woman's wit, a last, compelling idea 

" And, dear, you know then the two-cent morning 
paper would only cost us a cent." 

Then they began to pack the dishware. 



^OOR Florence ! she's 
left youth behind ! 
And ah ! too well she 
shows it; 
For now when Easter comes 
to mind, 
Where is the one who 
knows it? 

Yet I can well remember 
She lovers had a-plenty. 
©f course she wasn't thirty 
But just turned two-and- 


"You are not up to the 
Style in Easter-hat jokes 
this year, Mr. Snickers," 
said the editor, after look- 
fag over some of the 
humorist's manuscripts. 

" I'm afraid I don't 
gather your meaning, sir." 

" It is simply this. Your Easter-hat 
jokes are built after the old model, while 
this year it is imperative that Easter-h« 
witticisms shall be birdless ones." 


Amanda (alighting from her wheel at 
the roadside, where Mortimore awaits her) 
— "Have I kept you waiting long, dear?" 

Mortimore — "Long ? Many cycles have 
passed since the hour appointed for our 


First TRAMP (sttaling ride on flat form) — "Say, pard, I reckin dere's somethin' like five hundred 
ban els uv water in de tank uv dat tender." 

Second tramp — "Great hevins ! supposin' dere wuz ter be a kolishun an' de t'ing shud tip an" 
spill it all over us ?" 


Bridget (alone in the kitchen, closely 
scrutinizing the colander) — "Shure, an' Oi'd 
loike t' know how wan can till th' days an' 
months wid th' loikes av thot." 


"What sacrifice are you making for Lent 
this year.'" asked Mrs. Hampack of Mrs. 

'■ I have decided not to get a divorce this 
spring, but to devote the money it would cost 
to the endowment of a bed in a hospital." 


" So you do think a little of 
Miss Daisy ?" 
'Oh, yes, Mr. Softly; very 

Boy {on left) — " That's Daisy Hooligan, the bride of a month. Her husband told her ter go ter the devil, an' she's a-goin' 
4* her mother. 


'. fJu 






O, I don't want any books to= 
day," she said as she caught 
sight of the book-agent. 

" I am not an ordinary book- 
agent, ma'am. I am perform- 
ing a great service to the com- 
munity by the work I am doing." 

"What is that?" 

" I am taking orders for a 
small volume which gives the 
pronunciation of Cuban towns 
and of Scotch dialect words." 

" I'll take a copy." 


Casey — " Run fer yure loife, Clancy !" 
Clancy — " What fer ? Oi hov it wid me." 


Tommy — " What kind of a store is th<»u 
one, papa, where they have three-colored 
glass jars in the window ?" 

Papa — " That's an apothecary shop, Tom- 

Tommy — " And that place next door to it 
that has three balls in front of it ?" 

Papa (with a sigh) — " Oh, that's a hy- 
pothecary shop, Tommy !" 


Here lies the body of Nicholas Biddle, 

Whose natural long life was cut off in the middle. 

Farmer Jones — "Yep, that's my 
second wife. Yer see, ther last one was 
carried off in the cyclone, an' I thought 
I'd git one this time that would stay right 
here at home, no matter how hard it blew." 


Niece — " Do you think it is proper 
to typewrite the signature. Aunt Hul- 
dah ?" 

Atmt Huldah — " Oh, I don't think 
it makes any difference, child." 

Niece — " Then you think I may sign 
my name to this letter with the type- 
writer ?" 

Aunt Huldah — " You might, so they 
can read it." 

Niece — " But you told me some 
time ago that the signature should 
always be written with pen and ink." 

Aimi Huldah — " Did I ? Well, 
then, if I said so it must be so, niece." 

Peace, wid now an' thin a foight, 
is a foine thing. 


Spokesman (of committee) — " Yo' said in yo'r suhmon las' Sunday, pahson, dat dar , 
wouldn't beenny cuUud pussons in heaben." 

Parson — "No, breddren. Whad I said wuz dat pussons wif chicken-stealin* 
propenserties couldn't git toe heaben." 

Spokesman — " Adzackly ; but while de phrasyology am diff'rent de sentiment am de 

Seven Ages of Woman 

By William MacLeod Raine 


ONE of the most charming social events of the 
week was a luncheon given last Tuesday by 
Mrs. Richard K. Enderby in honor of the com- 
ing out of her daughter, Vivian Fay. The 
table decoration consisted of white chrysan- 
themums and maiden-hair ferns. Covers were laid for 
twelve. Those present are all closely connected socially 
and will probably see much of each other in the future. 
The guests were : 

Mr. Richard L. Pearson 

Mr. Reginald Duprez Fortescue 

Mr. James Lanthorp Gordon 

Mr. Robert Manderson 

Mr. Amos Follansbee 

Mr. Roland Oliver 

Miss Rose Heathcote 
Miss Elizabeth Merrill 
Miss Carol Dewey 
Miss Mabel Dewey 
Miss Pauline Pearson 
Miss Marie Artibel 

(From the News, January i, 1900). 


Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby 

announce the engagement of their daughter 

Vivian Fay 


Mr. Richard L. Pearson 

February i, 1900. 

Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby beg to 
announce the termination of the engagement of 
their daughter, Vivian Fay, to Mr. Richard L. 
April 16, 1900. 


The engagement of Miss \'ivian Fay Enderby, the 
well-known society bud, to Mr. Robert Manderson has 
been informally announced. — (Society column, the Times, 
April 27, 1900.) 

The rumor of the engagement of Miss Vivian Fay 
Enderby, the most charming and popular of this season's 
debutantes, to the well-known clubman, Mr. Robert Man- 
derson, has been authoritatively denied by her father, 
Richard K. Enderby. — (Issue of April 30th, 1900, of the 


Reginald Duprez Fortescue 

Vivian Fay Enderby 


Tuesday, July twenty-eighth 

Chicago, Illinoi? 


At Home 

after September i 1900 

Hotel Metropole 

Chicago, 111. 


Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby 

request your presence 

at the divorce of their daughter 

Vivian Fay 


Mr. Reginald Duprez Fortescue 

and her immediate subsequent marriage to 

Mr. James Lanthorp Gordon 

at the home of her parents, 1833 Michigan Avenue 

High noon, March twenty-ninth 


Admission to court-house by inclosed ticket only. 

[An interval of four years is here omitted in the busy 
life of Mrs. James Lanthorp Gordon, who becomes suc- 
cessively Mrs. Roland Oliver, Mrs. Amos O. Follansbee 
and "formerly" Mrs. Amos 0. Follansbee by the aid of 
the courts.] 


Among the most interesting social functions jf the 
week was a divorcee's dinner, at which the hostess was 
the charming Mrs. Amos O. Follansbee. This interesting 
young society woman, whose recent spicy divorce from 
her fourth husband created such an interest in society, 
presided with her usual gracious tact and sparkling wit 
at a tablf where sat twelve couples of society divorcees. 
Among those present were Messrs. Reginald Duprez For- 
tescue, James Lanthorp Gordon, Roland Oliver, and 
Amos O. Follansbee, all of whom have in times past had 
the honor of lending their names for a brief period to their 
hostess of this occasion. The tables were handsomely 
decorated with forget-me-nots and rosemary (" that's for 
remembrance "). 

At each plate was a beautiful souvenir, consisting of a 
miniature copy of a decree of divorce delicately edged 
with hand-painted orange-blossoms, a sweet and signifi- 
cant suggestion as to future happiness. The occasion 
was a most enjoyable one, abounding in piquant <-eminis- 
cence and fond memories. The affair was strictly a 
family one, every guest being connected by former mar- 
riage directly or indirectly to the rest of those present. 
Before speeding her guests to their hotels the hostess 
sang with sweet pathos the old Scotch song, " Should 
auld acquaintance be forgot ?" 

Made the Sale. 

(( I DON'T care if it is one of the very newest things 
from Paris," said the woman who was shopping for 
an Easter bonnet. " It is entirely too high-priced, and 
besides, it is the most hideous pattern and positively the 
most untastefully trimmed bonnet in the store." 

" Yes, miss," cooed the saleslady ;" but think what a 
contrast it will make with vour face 1" 



I wish the electric scientists 
Would go just one step higher 

And fix it so the message-boys 
Could be dispatched by wire. 


Short-sighted g tt e st (to 
hotel-clerk) — " I was chilled to 
the bone. What a blessing 
these registers are !" 

Clerk — " Excuse me, sir; 
but that's a perforated mat 
you're standing on." 


Love —ah, bejakers ! that's 
th' only thing thot makes hot 
wither in th' winter. 


" I see that another under- 
taker has opened an establish- 
ment near yours, Mr. Graves," 
said Spudkins. 

"Yes," replied Mr. Graves 

dolefully. -There isn't business 

DECISION HANDED DO'WN. enough for one, either. I made the mistake of opening in a most 

There is a movement in the straw-stacks. The hobo pro- disgustingly healthy part of the city, and now comes a rival. 

cession is about to start. Live and let live is my motto, but it doesn't seem to be his." 

RoSENBAU.M {fervently, to the life-saver') — " Ach ! mine frent — mine noble frent — you haff 
saved mine dear unt only vife from a vatery grave ; bud I vill reward you — I vill amply reward 
you. Rachel, led der shentleman kiss vou righd on der mout'." ? 


Husband — " Ah, have you been shopping, my dear?" 

Wife {{"'patiently) — " Why, of course not, stupid. Can't you see I've been trapesing all over town buying things?" 


BHEA.R in the twitter of birds her 
soi.j- ; 
t hear her step in the rustling grass ; 
Her laugh in the evening breeze, and I 
To see ray Margaret pass. 

For I hold a hand that is fair to see. 

And a flash of hope through my being 

That she'll turn it down, and leave it to me 
For a march by making it hearts. 


" Who is that man who is explaining 
ail about the correct use of the bicycle?" 

" Oh, he's one of our inost prominent 

" Ah, an expert rider?" 

" No — er — an expert talker." 

It's th' eart' thot do look as fiat 
now as whin 'twas made round, an' 
moind yez, me b'y, 'tain't round loike 
an orange • 'tis round loike a peraty. 


Brown — "What the deuce is the matter? You look as though you were a prisoner 
in your own house.' 

Smith — " I find by reading the census reports that prisons are the healthiest places 
in the country, because of the mode of life ; and not feeling well, I thought I'd trv if: 
at home." 


Smith — " Watch, Jones 

-and I'll show- 


* ■ I am not al- 
together hopeless." 
It was the prince 
of Wales who was 
communing with 
himself. " It is true 
that I am getting 
well along in life, 
still it is said that 
into every iife some 
reign must fall." 

Absence makes 
the heart grow 
fonder — of the 
other fellow. 


" What did Lushley say 
when told of his removal as 
president of the club ?" 

"He didn't deny the 
charges ; said he'd rather b« 
tight than be president." 


Acior (to dramatist) — " How 
did your new play come on?" 

Dramatist (to actor) — "Th* 
critics gave it such a roasting 
that it panned out a regular 
frost. Got snowed under." 


A man with a history — The 

Contemplating matrimony — 
The guest at the wedding. 

clean dive !" 

He Fixed It 


/^NCE there was a wise actor who was cast for an in- 
^ tensely furmy part. Especially was it meant to be 
funny in one scene, where his wife — the supposed wife of 
the character he represented — her mother, her maiden 
aunt, her two sisters, and a crusty uncle informed him in 
unison, " Unless you mend your ways we shall leave your 
house forever." In the action of the piece these six char- 
acters were grouped at one side of the stage, while he had 
all the rest of it to himself. He was to be seated in a 
Morris chair near a small table, on which were bottles, 
siphons of soda, and cigars, together with some flashy 
photographs. When they made their combined threat 
his speech was, 
" I don't care." 

Although the 
wise actor put 
into the speech 
all the subtle 
humor he was 
capable of, 
somehow it fell 
flat. Here was 
a crisis. The 
movement of 
the entire play 
centred about 
this point. It 
was to be the 
ape.x of all the 
amusement i n 
the drama. Yet, 
beyond a few 
giggles, it did 
not get a hand. 
Something had 
to be done. A 
conference of 
the wise actor, 
the stage-man- 
ager, the com- 
pany manager 
and the author 
was called. The 
stage - manager 

advocated cutting out the line entirely and putting in a 
ballet movement and a dissolving view. The company 
manager confessed that he was up a tree. The author 
suggested that the line be amplified to " I really don't 
care what you do." This was voted down immediately. 
Then the wise actor spoke up. 

" Now, let me fix that line. I have had twenty years' 
experience with audiences, and I think I know what will 
make them laugh when all else fails. Give me full swing 
for just one performance, and if I don't bring em up 
standing then I'll be willing to retire from the cast anH 
let you choose another man for my part." 

This seemed all fair and right, so the others agreed. 

That night there was a crowded house. All went 
well, the quiet humor of the play being listened to approv- 
ingly, the audience apparently reserving itself for the 

New York merchant — 
those goods strictly spot cash." 

Philadelphia buyer — " Well, excuse me 
days ' is ' spot cash' in Philadelphia." 

climax which it knew was being brought about. At last 
the wife, her mother, her maiden aunt, her two sisters, 
and her crusty uncle, after a passage of words which 
lifted the expectations of the audience to the highest 
pitch, struck their attitudes at the prompt side and chor- 
used, " Unless you mend your ways we shall leave your 
house forever." 

Tlie wise actor waited a second. He had the audience 
with him. It was hanging on the thread of anticipation. 
He could feel the current of tense expectation. The mo- 
ment was his. He knew what the audience wanted. 
Turning lazily in his chair, he drawled, " I don't 

give a damn !" 
um broke loose, 
and the audi- 
ence shrieked, 
howled and 
wept with 
laughter. The 
play could not 
go on for ten 
minutes, and 
the speech 
came near hav- 
ing to be given 
in an encore. 
"There were six 
curtain-calls at 
the end of the 
act, and the fu- 
ture of the play 
was assured. 

This teaches 
us that authors 
know what the 
actors want 
and actors 
know what the 
public wants. 


Its Effect. 

Jim Ka- 

ftipper is well on the high road to success, since he has 
•inished reading all those books on how to achieve pros- 
perity," said the mutual friend. 

■' \Vell, hardly," replied the other. 

" Didn't his studies have any effect on him ?" 

" Yes ; but they seem to have worked the wrong way." 

" How's that ?" 

" Instead of getting out and hustling, he sits around all 
the time, telling the rest of us why we have failed in life." 

Pardon me ; I guess you didn't understand that we sell 

but I thought you knew that ' thirty 

Ot linger — ' 


Ottinger — ' 


Chauffeur versus Duelist. 

"There goes Count Nodough, the famous 

— " Did he ever kill any one ?" 

" Not until recently, when he became a 



-z S 



William Mashc 

(With apologies to a certain well-known woman writerj 

By William J. Lampton 

he said in a low voice, 

ILLIAM MASHE was sitting in 
front of his writing-table staring 
at the floor, his hands hanging 
before him, when the door 
opened and shut. He turned. 
There, with her back to the 
door, stood Catty. Her aspect 
startled- him to his feet. She 
looked at him, trembling — her 
little face haggard and white. 

"William!" She put her 
hands to her breast as though to 
support herself. Then she flew 
forward. " William — husband 
— I have done nothing wrong — 
nothing — nothing. Look at me." 
He sternly put out his hand, 
protecting himself. 

'• Where have you been ?" 
and with whom ?" 
Catty fell into a chair and burst into wild tears. There 
was silence for a few moments except for the little woman's 
■ crying. 

" It's cruel to keep me waiting, Catty," he said at 
length, with obvious difficulty. 

'• I sent you a telegram this morning." The voice was 
choked and passionate. 

" I never got it. Where were you ?" he said, insistent. 
She looked up. She saw the handsome, good-natured 
face transformed. She began to twist and torment her 
handkerchief as Mashe had seen her do once before. 

" I suppose you want me to tell you my story ?" she 
said, turning upon him suddenly. 

All Catty in the words. Her frankness, her daring, 
and the impatient, realistic tone she was apt to impose 
upon emotion — they were all there. 

Mashe walked up and down the room. 
" Tell me your part in it," he said. 
" I went with Jeffrey Bluff," she began defiantly. 
" I guessed as much," Mashe smiled cynically. 
" He said he had something to read to me," she went 
on, hesitating, but not afraid ; " and it would be delicious 
to go on the river for the day, and come back by train at 
night. I had a horrid headache — it was so hot here — 
and you were at the office (her lip quivered), and I 
wanted to hear Jeffrey read his poems, and so — and so 
we missed the train (she flushed deeply) ; but I tell you I 
did nothing wrong. Do you believe me ?" she cried in a 
passion of appeal. 

Their eyes met in challenge of shock and reply. 
"These things are not to be asked between you and 
me," he said with vehemence, as he held out his hand. 
She just touched it proudly. " Finish your story," he 

It was brief. There were no more trains ; no convey- 
ance was obtainable in the little hamlet ; she had re- 
mained at a cottage with a woman living there and had 
taken the first train in the morning. 

" I never slept," she added piteously. " I got up at 
eight for the first train, and now I feel (she fell back in 
her chair desolately with shut eyes) as if I should die." 

Mashe came to her and took her hand in his. 

"This is no time to die," he said, with kind firmness. 
" It is the time to live and redeem yourself and— and me. 
You have done no wrong in the sight of God— the God of 
the bible— but gossip is the god of society and you have 
transgressed the law. Not this time only, but often in 
lesser things. It must all stop, Catty— stop ; do you hear 
me }" 

She looked at him, and the rebellious light glittered in 
her dark eyes. 

" Your name and my name, our children and the 
names of all our people are imperiled by your conduct 
with this Jeffrey Bluff". He has nothing to lose and you 
have everything. Think, Catty, what are you doing ?" 

" It is so hard to think," she said wearily. 

" And harder to bear the results of your thoughtless- 
ness," he urged upon her. "You can stop it if you will, 
dear ; try," he pleaded. " Send the man away and see 
him no more." 

" But, William " she began. 

"I know what you would say, ' he interrupted; "he 
fascinates you by his very wickedness." 

She nodded. Mashe, looking at her. saw a curious 
shade of every, a kind of dreamy excitement, steal over 
her face. He shuddered, but held fast to his purpose. 

" For weeks," he went on slowly, " you have been the 
talk of the town— you and Jeffrey Bluff — and me. 

" You ?" she queried with an odd lifting of the tiny 

" Yes, me — your husband." 

"What do they say of you, pray— you, the pink of 
domestic perfection .'" she laughed. 

" They say I am a fool, or a coward, or both," he cried 
in an agony of shame and love. 

" William !" and the tender, loving, frivolous little sprite 
that she was, was all expressed in the word. 

" It is true," he said ; " we— you and I— are the one 
choice bit the gossips are rolling under their tongues. 
Our enemies first, and now even our friends, are talking. 
Catty. They can't help it. You thrust it upon them, and 
they talk in self-defense." 

"Well, I don't care," she said, with a defiant toss of 
her head. " They cannot say I have doi^ anything 
wrong. They can only say I do not act as they think I 
should act. I despise their conventionalities." 

"And they will soon begin to despise us. Catty," he 
argued, helpless to convince. 

She snapped her little fingers defiantly, so weak to 
jrasp her duty, so strong to hold fast to her own vvill- 

" I wouldn't exchange JetTrey BUitT for all of them," she 
cried, throwing out her arms in wide defiance. 

" And me ?" he questioned. 

" I have you." She wound her soft arms about his 
neck and looked into his eyes as no other woman had 
ever looked into them. 

He smiled and kissed her. 

■' Well," he said, gently disengaging himself and plac- 
ing her in a chair as though she were a child, '■ you may 
think as you please about Bluff and all the rest of it, but 
if I were a woman I'll be damned if I would be stuck on 
any man who said I was a frowsy little bunch, and my 

clothes didn't fit and he could lead me around bj; the nose 
as he pleased." 

Her eyes flashed. All the feminine instincts rose in 
riotous rebellion. She grew hot and cold by turns. She 
bit her lips till the blood came. She drove her sharp 
nails into her pink palms. 

" Did he say that ?" she demanded passionately. 

" He wrote it in a letter to Mary Blister," he replied, 
handing her the letter. 

She took it trembling. The spell of the man over her 
was strong even in his writing. She read the letter 

" I'll never spe.ik to him again," she said, tearing the 
fatal testimony to shreds. 

And she didn't. 

A Broken Home 

<( VES ; my home is broken up," sighed the distressed indi- 
vidual, whose haggard air and disheveled raiment 
indicated great mental perturbance. 

" Broken up ?" queried the friend to whom he was 

" Yes," was the rueful answer. •• It came on us like a 
blow from the clouds, too." 

'• It must have. Do you mind telling me -vhat caused 
it ? " 

" It was the butcher's boy." 

"What! the butcher's boy ? Did he entice her away 
from you ?" 

" Yes. " The distressed individual acquires a deeper 
coating of gloom. 

" But, man, where were your eyes ? Did you not sus- 
pect anything ?" 

" Why should I suspect anything ? She had always 
seemed perfectly satisfied and contented." 

" It is too bad that you did not discover it sooner. 
You might have reasoned with her." 

" Oh, you know how a woman is when it comes to 
listening to reason." 

"Yes ; but, then, I always thought your wife " 

■• My wife .'" 

" Why, yes. She has always impressed me as a sensi- 
ble woman until this shocking occurrence." 

" What's my wife got to do with it ? She couldn't 
help it." 

" But didn't you say the butcher-boy had broken up 
your home ?" 

" Of course I did." 

•• Well, why didn't you speak to your wile about it be- 
fore she had permitted his attentions to go too far ?" 

" My wife didn't know anything of it until some time 
after she had gone." 

•• You don't tell me ! Did he hypnolize her ?" 

" Hypnotize who ?" the man asked in surprise. 

" Why, your wife, of course." 

" My wife never saw him that I know of.' 

"What are you saying ? Didn't you just tell me that 
th; butcher's boy had blasted your life and blighted your 

home ? And now you say your wife never saw him. How- 
could the boy carry on a clandestine love-affair with 
her " 

" Easy enough. He came to the kitchen for the order 
every morning." 

" But I don't get it at all. Are you going to try to get 
your wife back, or will you sue for a divorce ?" 

" A divorce ? What's the matter with you ?" 

" Well, of course, old man, it's honorable and generous 
of you, and all that ; but when a man's wife so far tor- 
gets herself as to elope with a butcher's boy I think he is 
perfectly justified in " 

" Look here ! are you crazy ? My wife wasn't mixed 
up in this at all. That blasted butcher's boy got my cook 
to marry him." 

Then the sympathizing friend had to help him drown 
some more of his sorrow. 

Little Girl Green and Little Boy Blue. 

LITTLE Girl Green and Little Boy Blue 
Thought more of eacli other the older they grew ; 
One cared for the corn and one cared for the sheep, 
And their scant weekly wages they never coult' keep. 

Quite often together they stealthily came 
(And who that is human this happening could blame?). 
Though loving the landscape and blue sky above, 
They tried to (but could not) help falling in love. 

Now Little Girl Green was a damsel more sweet 
Than — going through thirty-five counties — you'd meet, 
And Litde Boy Blue, of our good Mother Goose, 
For loving her fondly had ample excuse. 

Both lived out of doors, near the sheep and the corn. 
And when Little Boy Blue did not toot on his horn, 
Both he and his girl, as it made no expense. 
Would court, and throw kisses each side of the fence. 

But. why should they not ? 'Tis quite certain that you 
And I. so surrounded, the same thing would do ; 
For, the tides of the sea and the planets above 
Have no such propulsion as promptings of love. 

Oi course, as it seemed the one thing to be done, 
A marriage soon followed, and made them both one. 
With roses, refection, and games and gay laughter. 
And all things conspiring to joy ever after ! joel bektok. 



HE machinery of the big mill 
stopped with a sudden and hor- 
rible jar and jerk, and the work- 
men pulled out the crushed and 
bleeding form of one who was a 
stranger to them all. 

" Are you badly hurt," in- 
quired one. 

" I fear that I am," groaned 
the unknown. " I'm dying." 
".Shall we send for your 
friends .' Quick, tell us your name." 

"Oh, never mind," he answered. "I am all alone in the 
world, and my name doesn't matter. Just say that I died in- 
cog." .And a gri i smile illumined his face as the spirit of the 
prokssional humorist took its flight with his last supreme effort. 



Shorty (anefrily) — "Consamyer, Dave! yer tolt me this 
crick could be forded easily — thet it wuz only up ter th' waist." 

Long Dave — " Wa-al, w'ot yer kickin' 'bout? Did yer 
think I wuz goin' inter details wi' yer, an' say whose waist it wuz 
only up ter ?" 


VVzlh'a m A n n — 
"What's the news 
down at Asbury 
Park ?" 

Bradleyile —" Some 
of the first young 
women in town have 
been discovered going 
to prayer-meeting 
without a chaperon." 


The impulsive man 
would make money* 
by walking backward. 

The man who starts 
out to woo fortune 
finds few leap-years. 

Colonel Kentuck {tiot knowing there had been a Jlood in 
the vicinity) — " Who'd think there wuz derned fools thet squander 
money on watuh !" 


Henrique — " I believe Dr. Quicklime is the champion liar 
of Dewittville. The stories he tells are something astonish- 

Pennbroke — " You evidently have not known Dr. Q. for 
any length of time." 

Henrique — " No, not very long. But he is a veritable 
conversational dentist." 

Pennbroke—" Conversational dentist ? How is that ?" 

Henrique — " Why, he is a regular professional truth-puller." 

The supreme human achievement is self-mastery. 

Little Miss Peachly thought a bathing-suit made 
of clinging China silk would be very effective 

it clung ! 

-but the trouble was that after the first dip 


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SHE rode within the trolley, 
No one beside her sat, 
When in the door came ChoUy; 
Was anything more pat ? 


He paused beside her, smiling; 

He surely would sit down. 
She looked at him beguiling — 

'Twas full a mile to town. 

Alas ! he passed beyond her 

The full length of the car; 
Then knew she he was fonder 

Of that mean thing, Lou Barr. 


Mrs. Peck — " Here's a law- 
suit in Kentucky because a 
man refused to pay for bury- 
ing his wife. She didn't live 
with him. If that isn't the 
queerest case !" 

Henry Peck — "I don't 
see as it was so queer, Nancy. 
Why should a man want to 
bury his wife if she didn't 
lire with him.?" 


He — " They have 



these musicals so far that it is 
positive torture to hsten to 

5A^— " Yes; there are some people who believe they are a 
whole orchestra, simply because they have a drum in their ear." 

Mrs. Kerrigan {softly') — " Oi heard yer hoosband wuz 
doyin', Mrs. Flynn, so Oi thought Oi'd bring him round this bit 
uv oice. Th' poordivil moight ez well enjoy oice whoile he kin." 


Clerk — "This thousancU 
dollar package counts only 
nine hundred and fifty. Whaf 
shall I do?" 

Cashier — "Tell Jones to 
count it." 

Clerk (ten minutes later) — 
"Jones makes it nine hun- 
dred and seventy. Shall I 
report it to the president ?" 

Cashier — "I guess not. 
Tell Jones to keep on count- 



The speckled hen stands on one 


She's thinking lots and lots. 

She wonders if she laid the egg 

That's full of polka-dots. 


" I had a close shave," said 
the little lambkin. 

" Gracious, child ! What 
was it?" asked the mother. 

" I just ran against a razor- 
back hog." 


Miss Wiggins — " Do you 
really think that women are 
superstitious about Friday ?" 
Mr. Higgins — " Certainly. 
If Robinson Crusoe had been a woman that black valet 
would have been called Thursday." 

1^1 1 

Kelly— ■' No, Murphy, yez can niver be prisidint of the United Shtates." 
MURPHY (««at^fl«//v)— "And phy not?' 
Kelly — " Because yez wuz bom in Oireland," 
Murphy—" Thrue fer yez; but if Oi should decoide to run for the prisidincy how the divil could they iver prove thot?" 



Algy — ' ' Y 
retained all th'e 


Deivsyiap — ' 

buv mv wife a 

ou say she only partially returned your affection ?" 

— " Yes ; and that's what I'm kicking about. She returned all the love-letters, but 

— •' Going to have a yacht this year ?" 
' Xo ; I sha'n't have the price. I have had to 
yachti ng-cost u me.' ' 


\VISH I were a coroner. 
For one of my delights 
Would be like him to gaze 
Such lovely horrid sights 


Machete — An instru- 
ment of freedom, destined 
to sever the last link bind- 
ing the Spaniard to the 
new world. 

Date — Definite points 
of time which most peo- 
ple can remember tolera- 
bly until they are placed 
on the witness-stand. 

Gamble ^'Wie. pursuit 
of games of chance which 
is now frequently invested 
with an air of respectabil- 
ity by the stock exchanges 
of metropolitan cities. It 
consists principally in 
squandering the money 
you win and worrj'ing 
over that you lose. The 
only successful gambler 
is he whose profits are 
assured before he begins 
to play. 
Antiquity — A time which produced many men who were 
great because they had the first say on most matters. And 
who. if they happened to be right, are glorified for their 
jv.nnio • -tg^^ \i ii.-1-f.r.j^^ ly^H for thcit simpHcity. 


As ChoUy beacher "cstaticallv surveyed Miss .\nngular's 
sylph like figure he voted her a dream ; but a moment later, when 
the sun x-rayed those thin sleeves 

his dream turned into a nightmare and he .voke up ! 



The Jealousy of Alexander 

Being the Tragic Tale of a Lovelorn and Desperate Crow. 

By Ed Mott 

TOUSIN Marcellus Merriweather 
dropped in on Uncle David Beck- 
endarter's folks for a little visit 
ag'in, t'other day," said Solomon 
Cribber, fresh over to the Corners 
with the news from Pochuck, 
" and after Uncle David had locked 
his blue-paper smokin' terbacker 
in the closet, and Aunt Sally had 
told Cousin Marcellus to go out in 
the wood-shed to take off his gum- 
shoes. Uncle David says to him, 

" ' Well,' he says, ' anyhow, you 
kin help us to git shet o' them 
pesky crows that's gettin' all ready 
to dig up our corn soon as we put 
it in. I'm jest fixin' to soak some 
corn in p'ison to scatter 'round fer 'em to stuff theirselves 
with, and you mowt take the old shot-gun and go down 
and hide behind the cornfield fence and whang one now 
and then as they come nosin' around. You kin do as 
much as that, I s'pose ? You've got push enough in you 
to lay behind a fence and shoot crows if they light on a 
stake nigh enough to you, hain't you ?' says Uncle David. 
" ' Uncle David,' says Cousin Marcellus, ' I wouldn't 
kill a crow ; not fer money ! No, sir !' says he ; ' not fer 
yoar hull farm !' 

" Uncle David give setch a start when he heerd this 
that he most upsot the kittle o' p'ison water he was soakin' 
the corn in to dose the crows with, and Aunt Sally jest 
put her hands on her hips and stared at Cousin Marcellus 
as if she wa'n't exac'ly sure whether she was goin' deef 
or whether Cousin Marcellus was crazy. But she soon 
see that it wa'n't her a-goin' deef, and she says to Cousin 
Marcellus, with a sort of a sniff, 

" 'Then I s'pose you're goin' to object to me goin' out 
and killin' a chicken fer dinner ?' she says. 

" But Cousin Marcellus he looked up quick and says, 
'"No, no, no!' he says; 'not a ding bit of it !' he 

" Then Uncle David, he got an idee in his head, and 
it het him all up, and he turned on Cousin Marcellus 
fierce, and says, 

•' ' Do you mean tp say,' says he, ' that my hull farm 
ain't worth as much as a ding thievin' crow ?' says he. 

" Then Cousin Marcellus got on t'other side o' the table 
pooty quick, and he says, 

'"Great Gabriel's horn, Uncle David!' he says; 'I 
didn't mean noth/n' o" the kind ! Set down ! set down ! 
he says, ' and let me tell you. ' 

" Uncle David sot down, shakin' his head and grum- 
biir,' consider'ble, and Aunt Sally brung in Cousin Mar- 
cellus's gum-shoes from the wood shed and thumped 'em 

down on the floor in front of him toler'ble positive, but 
didn't say nothin' further than that. Then Cousin Mar- 
cellus he sot down ag'in, and says, 

" ' You see, Uncle David and Aunt Sally,' he says, 
' the trouble is, you hain't looked into the crow only as to 
his bein' a thief He's a thief, that's so, but so is the 
feller that steals your chickens. You mowt know the 
feller, but you wouldn't feel like takin' your shot-gun and 
killin' him. Why ? 'Cause that'd be murder. And if 
you knowed the crow in all of his bearin's like I do, \ou'd 
jest as soon go out and pop over the feller that had stole a 
chicken out o' your coop as you would to pop over a 
crow. A crow wdl I'arn to talk as glib as a lightnin'-rod 
peddler. You know that, -don't you ?' says Cousin !\Iar- 

"Uncle David said he'd heerd so, and made the p'ison 
in the hot water a leetle stronger, and chucked in another 
handful o' corn to soak ; and Aunt Sally kicked the gum- 
shoes a little nigher to Cousin Marcellus. He didn't seem 
to notice it, though, and by and by he says, 

" ' When I was livin' with Potiphar Juggins, up on the 
old Passadanky, Potiphar's boy Joe found a young crow 
in the woods one day that had been tumbled out of its 
nest by the wind. He brung it home, and that crow let 
tself be riz by hind jest as willin' as if it had an idee 
there wa'n't no other way fer crows to be riz. And as he 
growed, the way that crow I'arned to talk was amazin'. 
And yit he wa'n't a feller that'd throw his talk around 
loose amongst folks, either, bein' solemn and retirin' in 
his natur'. He liked the horses, and the way he could 
holler out " G'lang, g'lang ! Geedap, g-e-e-dap, there !" 
and click to 'em to make 'em start or hurry up, was a 
caution to stage-drivers. And he partic'lerly liked to 
holler out to me, " Hullo, Marcellus ! How's Polly Ann ?" 
He seemed to like to holler that partic'ler.' 

" Aunt Sally she shoved the gum-shoes a leetle nigher, 
and Uncle David stirred up the p'ison soak till it most 
slopped over. Cousm Marcellus sol a while, and then he 

'• ' They named the crow Alexander, that bein' an idee 
o' Potiphar's boy Joe, 'cause he said the crow was so 
overpowerin' great ; and what do you 'spose was the rea- 
son he was always hollcrin' to me, " How's Polly Ann ?" 
I'll tell you. Polly Ann was young Sam Niver's wife, and 
she was as pooty as a pictur'. Sam druv team fer Poti- 
phar, and Polly Ann done the kitchen work, and the rea- 
son why Alexander was always askin' me about the state 
o' Polly Ann's health when he didn't see her around was 
'cause he wa'n't on speakin' terms with Sam. And why 
wa'n't he ? Cause he was dead in love with Polly Ann 
himselt ! And jealous o' Sam } Great snakes a-twistin' ! 
It got so that when Sam 'd come around where Polly Ann 
was he'd strut and fum-, and fly a- Sam and jab him so 

that sometimes Sam 'd have to git a club and tight ler 
sartin, or else run and sliet himself in the barn. But 
when he'd see Polly Ann when Sam wa'n't around he'd 
set and look at her like a dyin' calf, and sigh ! Merciful 
me ! I've see that crow heave setch sighs at Polly Ann, 
Aunt Sally, that it seemed to me he surely must bust his 
wishbone out, and nothin' shorter !' 

" Uncle David shoved the corn deeper down in the 
kittle, as if he didn't want none of it to be short o' p'ison, 
and Aunt Sally glanced up to'rds where the rollin'pin 
was hangin'. By and by Cousin Marcellus says, sort o' 
'sinuatin' like, 

^" ' Uncle David,' says he, ' have you quit chawin' ter- 
backer ?' 

" ' Nope,' says Uncle David. ' Chawin' it right along,' 
says he. 

" That's all there was come o' that, and after a while 
Cousin Marcellus says, 

" ' One day Polly Ann and Sam was goin' to town to 
do some tradin'. Sam had a horse that was safe enough 
when you had him in hand, but he didn't have to have no 
great big lot of excuse fer to do a little goin' on his own 
account, and when he got agoin' he hated like helix to 
stop. Alexander had been a-broodin' and in the dumps 
fer two or three days 'cause Sam had been 'round the 
house a good deal, and Polly Ann was all the time chat- 
terin' to him. When she got in the wagDn that mornin' 
Alexander sot on the gate-post gazin' at her. Sam had 
gone to the barn fer somethin'. I was standin' at the 
gate, and I see sort of a startlin' look come over Alexan- 
der, and all of a sudden he made a dash and plumped 
down in the wagon on the seat 'longside o' Polly Ann. 

" ' "Geedap !" he hollered. " Gee-e-e-dap, there!" and he 
follered it up with that click o' his'n in a way that the horse 
knowed meant business, and away he started, with Alex- 
ander hollerin' and clickin' at him like mad. Before 
Polly Ann could gether up the lines, or anybody could do 
a thing or say a word, the horse was goin' on a dead 
gallop down the road, and went out o' sight in a cloud o' 
dust around the bend. What did it mean ? Nothin', 
'cept that Alexander had stole Polly Ann, and was runnin" 
away with her ! That was all.' 

" Aunt Sally took the rollin'-pin down, and Uncle 
David put a kiver on the kittle so none o' the p'ison 'd 
steam out. Cousin Marcellus was warmed up on Alex- 
ander, and he kep' right on. 

"'Quick as he could,' says he, 'Sam mounted an- 
other horse and started after Alexander and Polly Ann. 
Three mile and a half down the road he come up to 
'em. Leastways, he come up with the horse and wagon 
and Polly Ann. The runaway had been stopped by a 
team comin' t'other way. Nobody was hurt, but Alex- 
ander was missin'. They couldn't find no track of him 
high nor low. He knowed ding well what 'd become of 
him if he was took, and so he had made himself good and 
scarce. After Polly Ann got over her skeer, and Sam 
got over his mad, they laughed at it as bein' a good joke, 
and they was sorry that Alexander had sloped. 

" ' I guess it was mebbe six months after that I was 
comin' along the road down there one day. Poor Polly 
Ann had took a fever some time afore and died of it. As 

I was comin' along by the place where the bad crow had 
been balked in his tryin' to steal her, I heerd a hoarse and 
quiverin' voice, and it skeert me, fer what did it say but, 

" • " Hello, Marcellus !" 

" ' I looked up, and there sat Alexander on a limb, all 
rumpled up and lanky and sick-lookin'. I stopped and 
told him to git in the wagon. He got in, and sot there 
without sayin' a word till we got pooty nigh home. Then 
he says, 

" ' " How's Polly Ann ?" 

" ' I didn't tell him anything, and when we got home 
everybody was glad to see Alexander back ag'in. But he 
wa'n't the same crow. He soon found out about poor 
Polly Ann, and one day I see him busy at somethin' in 
the flower garden. I watched him and I see him pick a 
lot o' flowers and start away with 'em. He went over 
to'ards the little buryin'-ground on the hill. I follered 
along, wonderin' what in natur' he was up to now. He 
went straight to Polly Ann's grave. He laid the flowers 
on it, and stood there in a sorrowin' sort o' ponderin' 
a while. Then he come back home. Next day I found 
him on the bottom of his house, dead as a millstone ! 

" ' Kill a crow, Uncle David ?' says Cousin Marcellus. 
' Not fer your hull farm !' 

" Uncle David took down the shot-gun and sot it ag'in 
the wall. Then he scooped the p'isoned corn out o' the 
kittle and put it in a bag. Then he says to Cousin Mar- 

" ' You fetch that shot-gun and come along with me 
to the cornfield,' says he, ' or else you kin git into them 
gum-shoes o' your'n and go back to old Passadanky on 
the double-quick to drop tears on the grave of Alex- 
ander !' 

"Cousin Marcellus took the gun and went. He 
popped over six crows betwixt that and noon, and Aunt 
Sally says that from the way he acted with the shortcake 
and chicken fer dinner the killin' didn't seem to lay par- 
tic'lar heavy on his conscience. Not partic'lar. And 
speakin' o' crows, 'Kiar," said the Pochuck chronicler, " I 
don't seem to see none of any account hangin' 'round the 
Corners here." 

" No," said 'Kiar Biff, the landlord ; " seems as if they'd 
rather roost over Pochuck way. Dunno why, unless it's 
'cause they git so much more healthful exercise over 
there, havin' to fly so fur to git somethin' to eat." 

Mr. Cribber rubbed his chin a while as if pondering 
on the possibilities of such being the case ; but if he came 
to any conclusion regarding it he did not let it be known, 
and by and by he got into his own gum-shoes and 
wended his way Pochuckward, presumably for social con- 
ference with Uncle David, Aunt Sally and Cousin Mar 

A New Kind. 

(( DUT will this fly-paper kill the flies ?" asked the 
doubting customer. 
" No, sir," replied the grocer ; " it is anti-cruelty fly- 
paper. It does not injure ; it merely attracts. Don't you 
see that it is made to resemble a bald head ?" 

'HE man who's without fear is the man who's going to 
lose his ship. 





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His Birthday Gift 

Bv Morris Wade 

BE HAD just settled himself comforta- 
bly for the evening in his favorite 
chair, with his favorite magazine in 
his hand, when his wife said, 

" You remember what day next 
Thursday is, don't you, dear ?" 

" Don't know as I do," he said, as 
he ran his paper-cutter between the 
uncut pages of the magazine. 

" Well, I remember if you don't, 
dearie ; it's your birthday." 

" Oh, it is, is it ? How- those 
days do come around when a fellow- 
gets to be forty." 

"You are only thirty-nine." 
•• Well, that's a good deal nearer 
forty than I want to be." 

" What I wanted to ask, dear, 
was something in regard to your 
present. I don't know w-hat to get lor you." 

" Oh, don't bother about getting anything." 
■ '• The idea of it I Of course I shall get you something ! 
A lady who spoke at our club yesterday impressed upon 
us the importance of not allowing holidays and birthdays 
to pass unnoticed in our homes. You always get me 
something on my birthday." 

" Oh, well, that's another matter. Any little thing will 
please me." 

•• • Any little thing ' is dreadfully vague. Can't you hint 
a little ?" 

•' Oh, get me a bo.\ of cigars. I'll tell you the kind." 
••But I want to give you something tliat you can 

'• I need some new- shirts." 

•• Shirts for a birthday present ! I'd as soon get you a ■ 
ton of coal !" 

•• A ton of coal w-ouldn't be a bad thing to get when 
one never knows wliat minute the miners will go on a 
strike. Slippers always come in handy." 

•■ I've given you a dozen pair of slippers already, and if I 
get neckties for you, you always exchange them. I never 
told you before, but one day when I was going up to your 
office in the elevator I noticed that the elevator-man had 
on the tie I gave you Christmas. Can't you think of some- 
thing else ?" 

•• Oh, you might get me something for my desk." 
•■ I got you a beautiful little iive-dollar bouquet-holder 
for a rose or a carnation or two for your desk last year, 
and all you ever used it for was to put cigar ashes in it; 
It was all spattered with ink, and your mucilage brush 
was in it the last time I was in your office. No ; I want 
to get something this year that you can keep and possibly 
use. How would it do to get something for the house 
that we could all enjoy ?" 

" AH right. Go ahead and get anything you want. 

only don't go in too steep ; business isn't very rushing 
just now." 

•' It never is rushing when I want to buy you a birth- 
day present." 

'• But you buy it just the same." 

••Of course I do. As if 1 would let your birthday go 
by unnoticed ! Can't you suggest something ? Of course, 
as it's your present, I w-ant you to be pleased with it more 
tlian any one else. Can't you make me out a little list of 
things you w-ould like ?" 

•' Oh, I don't want to bother doing that. Just get any- 
thing you take a fancy to and I'll be satisfied. My good- 
ness ! wlien I have a present to buy for you I rush into 
some store and buy the first thing I see." 

•• I know you do, and that is why I have to e.xchange 
nearly all of your presents to me. You got me Tenny- 
son's complete works for a present last year and we 
already had two sets of his works in the house. I hope 
you wont mind, but I'll tell you now- that I took the books 
back to the department-store in w-hich you got them and 
exchanged them for a copper wash-boiler and some gran- 
ite baking-ware that we needed." 

•' I don't mind, but I woniler what Tennyson would 
think if he knew it." 

'• Couldn't you spare a few minutes to-morrow after- 
noon and go with me and select something you would 
like — of course I'd want you to select a number of things 
from which I could choose one, so that it would be some- 
thing of a surprise, you know ? Please do that, dear ; 

Of course he said that he would, and the next after- 
noon found them in a big department-store, •• dragging 
from counter to counter," as he would have said, and as 
he did say — to himself. 

•' I think I'd like this," he said, picking up a hand- 
some h.ind-mirror. 

•' But we have tw^o or three hand-mirrors in the house 
now-, dear. It doesn't seem to me that we want another. 
How would you like this lovely picture of the Madonna ?" 

•• I'd like it well enough. Get it." 

•' I'll keep it in mind, but, after all, a Madonna doesn't 
seem like an appropriate present for a man. Maybe you 
would like this set of Stevenson's books better. Would 
you ?" 

•• I'd as soon have that as anything. Why not get me 
a bath-robe ? I'd like to have one." 

•• Oh, that wouldn't seem just like a present, would it ? 
I want something you can keep and that you can show to 
your friends as a present." 

•• Then you'd better keep the bath-robe off your list. 
I'd like a new smoking-jacket." 

•• I'm afraid you wouldn't be suited with one if I got it. 
Men like to buy such things themselves. Still, we might 
look at smoking-jackets, and you could pick out three or 
four you would like." 


■■ I haven't time for all that. Why not get me a box of 
real nice han(:kerchiefs ? I'd like liiem well enough." 

•'Oh, handkerchiefs seem so kind of commonplace for 
a present. Then, as I have remarked before, I want to 
get something you can keep. I thought some of getting 
you one of those lovely silk and satin and lace cases for 
your neckties, but I don't suppose \ou wouid use it if I 

•' Neither would any other man clothed in his right 
mind. Thompson has a unique kind of a rack for iiis pipes. 
I rather think I'd like one of them. It's made of six mini- 
ature skulls, and " 

" Horrors '. I'm not going to get you anything ol th.nt 
kind. I do think that some of these smokers' things are 
just horrid. I'd as soon think of getting you a testament ! 
Oh, wouldn't you like a real nice purse, dear ?" 

"I've nothing to put in tiie purses I have now. I 
think a real handsome pair of silk suspenders would suit 

" It seems like such folly to me to put two or three dol- 
lars into anything so prosaic as a pair of suspenders. 
Then you couldn't show them to people as your birthday 
present. " 

" It would be a little awkward — especially if I had 
them on. I've always thought I'd like a pair of elegant 
silk socks, but they would be open to the same objection 
so far as showing them is concerned. \Vhy not get me a 
cane ?" 

" And you with six canes now that you never carr)-. 
How wouid a nice silk muffler do?" 

" It would do if I ever wore a muffler, but I never 
bother with one of those things." 

•• I wish that we could think of something for the house 
that you \vould like. We need more chairs." 

" Then get one. I really can t give any more time to 
this business." 

" I wouldn't like to get one without your help in select- 
ing it. As it would be loryour birthday present, of course 
I would want you to be pleased with it. Do take a few 
minutes more and look at chairs with me. Thev .ire on 
the floor above." 

. They go to the '• floor above," and in a moment he is 

•• I like this one all right." 

" Do you, dear .' Now, do you know that I don't fancy 
that chair the least bit. I like this one much better." 

■• Well, get it, then." 

" Not if you don't like it, dear. " 

" I do like the other one better." 

" You do ? Why, I think this other chair is far more 
graceful iii shape. But of course if you like it best I sup- 
pose " 

■• I don't insist on having it. Get the other one if you 
prefer it." 

■• But It is to he^ycur chair, and it's your present, so ol 
course I want you to be pleased more than anv one else. 
I do think, however, that the chair I prefer is better suited 
to a parlor than the chair you like. Then, it is so much 
more graceful in shape." 

" Then get it. by all means" 

'• Not if you decidedly prefer the other. I think if you 

will e.vamine the two you will lind tiiai tne brocatel oo 
the chair I like is much finer than that on the other chair, 
and it is so much richer looking. I can't help it, but I do 
like this chair better than the other." 

"Then we'll oriier it and be done with it." 

•• You feel sure that we can afford it .'" 

•• Yes, yes — 1 suppose so." 

•• Well, 111 look around a little and decide about it. I 
want whatever I get to be as much of a surprise as pos- 

-\!id_ he, like the wise and experienced husband that he 
is, says nothing when, a day or two later, she shows the 
chair of her choice to some callers and says, 

" My hus!)and has been having a birthday and I have 
been buying him a chair for a present. Isn't it hard to 
choose a present for a man ? But I got out of it this time 
by making him go with me and choose his own present ; 
so for once he really ought to be satisfied with it, since 
it is of his own choosing." 

Nor does he do anything but " keep up a terrible think- 
ing " when she says, some days later, 

'• Charles, dear, the bill for the chair I gave you on 
your birthday came this afternoon and I put it on your 
desk. Your mother was here to-day, and when I showed 
her your new chair and told her you had selected it your- 
self, she said you always did have such good taste." 

About Abou. 

fWith apologies to I.eigh Hant.1 
A BOU BEN .\D.AMS (may his tribe increa-^ !) 
■■ .\\voke une night and shouted out "Police !** 
For. calmly sitting at his writing-desk. 
He saw a vision of a form grotesque. 
*• Hush :" said the vision, nodding its weird head. 
Ben Adams shivered till he shook the bed ; 
His front teeth chattered and his feet grew cold ; 
But still, exceeding nerve made Adams bold, 
.\nd tij the vision he said. "What the deuce 
Are you about there ? Chuck it. sir ! Yamoose ! 
What are you writing ?" "Sir." replied his guest, 
"^I write the names of those OjrrecUy dressed.'' 
" -And am I in it?" queried Adams. "No," 
Replied the vision, .\dams thundered. "Go! 
But ere you skip write me as one. I pray. 
Who never wears a shirt-waist, anyway." 
The vision wrote and fled. But after that 
He came again to .Adams's litde flat 
Aiid showed the names of men who dressed the best, 
And lo ! Ben .Adams's name led all the rest ! 


A Dear Friend's Deduction. 

«tTHE most ridiculous thing happened to-day," said the 
girl who had been out in her new Easter bonnet. 
•• There was a man on the corner near a big trench they 
were digging for a sewer or something, and the man kept 
staring at me all the tinie as I neared him. and what do 
you think ? He gazed at me so steadily that he did not 
see the trench and fell into it." 

" How odd '" e.xclaimed the girl who had no new 
Easter bonnet •• Did you look at him, too ?" 

" Well — of course I couldn't help just glancing at 

" Maybe he jumped into the trench." 





nAMMY'S little pickaninny gwine to go to sleep- 
Hush a by-by, hush a by. 
Doan' yo hear de coon-dog bayin' loud an' deep \ 
Hush a by-by, hush a by. 
Mock-birds' notes a-callin', doan' yo hear 'em sing? 
Pappy's gone a-huntin', an' a possum home 'U bring, 
There's wortermelons coolin' in the shadderso' the spring. 
Hush a pickaninny, an' a by-by. 

There's sweet pertaters bilin' an' a ham-bone to boot, 

Hush a by-by, hush a by. 
Pappy's got a grave yard rabbit's left hind foot. 

Hush a by-by, hush a by. 
So hush a pickaninny while de sout' winds moan. 
Go to sleep so mammy can go lieb yo' all alone, 
Fer she's goin' to make yo'r pappy a big co'n pone — 

Hush a pickaninny, an' a by-by. 




Many drivers had waved at little Freddie to 
stop hooking on behind with his e.xpress-wagon, but 
they met with poor success. 

t "'yi'!'"',' • * 


" I suppose the people who bother you most," 
said the student in journalism, " are those who 
want their names put into the paper." 

" Yes, with one exception." said the managing 
editor ; " and they are the people who wish their 
names kept out." 


However, the wave that he got from this particular cart did effectu- 
ally dampen his ardor. 


Mabel — " I understand there were only square dances at Mrs. 
Flippit's small-and-.arly." 

Mande — " Yes ; there weren't men enough to go round." 

Mo.NTALBO Dunn {insanely Jialous) — " Look, Horace, look ! 



Exhibition fire-drill in the elephant quarters, 
playing the hose. 


encourages his advances. Let me get at him and his heart's blood shall 

Horace Murphy {restraining him) — "Nay, nay, Montalbo ! 
This is not the moment for blood-spilling. Wait until the lady retires." 



n UR. DINGLEBERRY, " said Mr. Bingwliazzle, after 

' * the circle had finished the chorus of " My Klon- 
dike is the gold of Molly's hair " and the applause had 
subsided ; " Mr. Dingleberry, I have a conundrum to pro- 
pound to you this evening." 

" Indeed ?" responded Mr. Dingleberry, thrumming 
softly upon his tambourine and winking at the middle- 
man ; " indeed .' And would you kindly propound it ?" 

" I will," said Mr. Bingwhazzle, placing his bones in 
his vest-pocket and knocking a fleck of dust from his dia- 
mond ; •' I will. What, sir, is the difference between a 
man preparing his poultry for the market at midnight and 
a lion after it has eaten its dinner ar noon ?" 

" What is the difference between a man preparing his 

poultry for market at midnight Is the market to be 

at midnight ?" 

" No, no ! He is preparing the poultry at midnight." 

•' Did you say poultry or poetry ?" 

" Poultry — poultry, sir !" 

" Excuse me. I thought if ycu said poetry, the man 
would be hungry and the lion wouldn't." 

" Do not be frivolous, Mr. Dingleberry," said the inter- 
locutor. " The conundrum as propounded by Mr. Bing- 
whazzle is this, ' What is the difference between a man 
preparing his poultry at midnight for the market and a 
lion after it has eaten its dinner at noon .''' " 

" Well, sir, that's too easy," chuckled Mr. Dingleberry, 
permitting his left foot to do a jig-step while he remained 
in his chair. " The man who is preparing his poultry is 
sighing on the land and the lion that has had his dinner is 
lying on the sand." 

" No, sir !" shouted Mr. Bingwhazzle. " You have no 
reason to infer that the man is unhappy." 

" Of course he is unhappy. Who wouldn't be ?" 

" But that is the wrong answer." 

" Oh, very well. I can give you another. The lion is 

wagging his tail and the man is tagging his But 

there are no wails, are there ? Le'me see. There isn't 
anything about dessert and desert in this, is there ?" 

" Not a thing." 

" Then the man had a bird in his hand and the lion 
had two in the bush," ventured Mr. Dingleberry. 

" Oh, that is absurd !" 

" Well, it's the best I can do this evening. I didn't ask 
you to ask me any old conundrums, did I ? Why is a 
conundrum like an unsigned letter ? Because you can't 
answer it. That's better than your old market-man, any- 
how. What's the answer to yours ?" 

"It is simple," said Mr. Bingwhazzle. "The lion is 
licking his chops and the man is lopping his chicks." 

Then the interlocutor announced that Mr. Raphael 
Minningham Woodle would render the favorite classical 
selection, "When your rabbit-foot 's unlucky you should 
throw the dice away." 

Beautys Use. 

** D^'^UTY 's its own excuse for being." Yea, 
*^ Most men to this sweet creed are dutiful ; 
Yet beauty 's the excuse, we can't but see, 
For much in life that is no/ beautiful. 


AA ANY a man knows where there's a lot of treasure 
• * locked up, and then discovers that he's left his bunch 
of keys to home. 

There's one way in which my ship an' th' sea is better 
than your house an' th' front yard — I don't have to mow 
the seaweed. 

A lie 's like fire — it makes a small place awful hot. 
Th' scandal that it causes is like its smoke — it 11 smootch 
a whob neighborhood. 

" If you could select th' strongest material in th' world 
to make your cable of, what would you use ?" a man 
asked me. " Mother-love," I answers. 

Th' average country deacon's ideas of what true good- 
ness consists of reminds me of th' Irishman's definition ot 
an octogenarian. " An octogenarian," says th' Irishman, 
" is a man with eight toes on each foot." 

Girls are queer. I asked one one day what she was 
a-laughin' at. " I dunno," says she. Th' next day she 
was cryin' an' I asked her th' cause of that. " I dunno," 
says she. " Guess it's th' same thing that made me laugh 

I've seen th' sea when it was gray, deceitful, crouchin'; 
then it was like a cat. I've seen it roarin', rampant, terri- 
ble ; then it was like a lion. I've seen it when it was 
dreamy, beautiful an' kind ; then it was like a woman. 
For it was like enough to change within sixteen seconds. 

How we do waste time ! I know a feller that went to 
college, an" when he come out th' professor said with 
pride that that chap had a vocabulary of six thousand 
words. An' yet I've found out that that feller died jest 
because he didn't know how to say no when he was 
asked to have a drink. 

Many a commandin' officer has deserved jest about as 
much credit for th' battles that his troops have won, 
many a captain has deserved jest about as much credit for 
th' savin' of his ship in time of storm, as th' man who 
rings up th' curtain at th' theatre does for th' merit of th' 

I knew a fisherman who had been dog poor on Cape 
Cod all his life, but everbody liked him. One day he ran 
afoul of a great lump of ambergris a-floatin' in th' bay. 
He sold it for thirty-eight thousand dollars an' sixty-two 
cents. Within a year he hadn't a friend on th' cape, an" 
had begun to abuse his wife. Now, why was that ? 

If you go to a certain museum in Holland you can still 
see th' scales where they weighed people accused of bein* 
sorcerers. If you was of a certain weight or over you was 
hanged ; if you was of another weight or under you was 
burned at th' stake. Th' thing to do was to avoid bein' 
weighed. Same 's true about bein' talked about by some 

I see a scrap-book once that a hopeless maniac had 
made while he was locked up in an insane-asylum. As I 
looked at it I couldn't help but think that it was a good 
deal like my own memory. Wouldn't it be nice if we 
could all paste our recollections up all nice and method- 
ical an' then make a ready-reference index for 'em ? 


IF WE could only deceive others as easily as we deceive 
ourselves, what great reputations we would have ! 


Marie Antoinette Murphy {disdainfully) — "Do yer t'ink fer a moment, Sagasta Sullivan, dat I would t'row meself amvf 
on you ?" 

Sagasta Sullivan — " No, Marie, I do not. I t'ink yer know de health laws too well to risk t'rowin' rubbish anywheres 'cept ja 
ash-barrels or public dumps, an' I'm glad ter see yer so well acquainted wid de street-cleanin' ordinances at dat." 


They were discussing profound subjects with the cynicism 
that only youth can develop. 

" I have given the subject serious thought." she said, " and 
I have decided long ago that I would never marrj'." 

"That shows you are a woman of mtellect, " he answered 
admiringly. " I long ago reached the same determination." 

" Marriage," she obser\'ed, '■ is a state in which the chance 
for sorrow is great and the prospect for happiness small." 

" Ver^' true. And what is more, it is a confession that 
one's intellectual cuItr\alion is insufficient to elevate him 
above the necessity of companionship." 

He had been holding her hand all this time, but neither of 
them seemed to realize the fact. 

" Every rule," she said thoughtfully, " is proved by its ex- 

" Yes ; and I was just thinking " 

" What, Orlando ?" 

" That two people who hold such similar views of life as 
you and I hold ought to manage to get on splendidly." 

She blushed and sighed and murmured, " I was just think- 
ing that it is very seldom that folks ffnd such a true bond of 
sympathy as we have discovered." 


Money is the measure of values, but if its measurements 
were absolutely accurate there could be no profits. Hence it 
becomes the yardstick of opportunities. 

Mrs. Hammerstein— " Kracious, fader ! vot fur you vhip Shakey so fur?" 
Mr Hammerstein— " 'Vhy, der lamp ubset in der shtore und dis fool — dis crazy poy— he pnd id cud, so hellap me Aaron f 




EEP in my soul there subtly wakes 
and stirs 
With waking thrill of liff in 
bud and leaf ; 
With chirp of bird and rushing 
wing that whirs 
From bough to trembling 
bough in journeys brief — 
A restless, eager quest, 
that hurrying goes 
Seeking amid the chambers of 

dim thought 
Something that must be viewed, 

pursued and caught 
And made a glorious captive ; 

else in vain 
Is all the inspiration of the 


And mute the impassioned song 
I fain would sing. 
But when, as now, I nearer come, close, close 
At last to the dear goal I would attain. 
Ah, with what clutching joy I pounce upon it, 
The longed-for fourteenth line that makes my sonnet ! 

Blood will till. It's mesilf thot do know a felly 
thot inheriated chilblains from his father. He losht 
both fate in a railroad wrick — poor divil ! — an' now, 
bejakers ! he has th' chilblains on his nick. 

" Poor Tooley ! phwat a pity he niver lived t' injoy hisloife inshoor- 
ance! Oh, wa-al, Oi s'pose we'll all be dead some day if we live longenuff." 


The maid of the princess de Chimay looked sympathetic as she pre- 
pared her mistress's coiffure. " Mais, madame, elle appear si latiguee 
thees eveneeng," she said. 

The princess sighed. " I am tired," she murmured. " In the last 

fifteen minutes I have almost made up my mind not to elope with any 
one to-day." 

The spring lamb now is with us, 

You hear its tender bleat ; 
But how changed you will find it 

When you've ordered it to eat. 


Pastor — "You seem resigned to die, and I know it is because you aie 
such a good Christian." 

She — " 'Tain't thet so much, pastor; but they do say thet I will hevmie. 
of the longest funerals ever held at Saugerties." 












I— t 

I— t 

The Denying of Rans'ler Hawes 

By Agnes L. Pratt 

N SPRING, the herrings, millions of 
them, run up the great river that 
winds just at the foot of the bar- 
ren hillside supporting the hamlet 
of Slabtown to the fresh-water 
ponds above. When they reach 
the narrow fishway the water is 
alive with their black backs and 
glistening, scaly sides, battling 
furiously with the whirling current 
of the river in their onward rush. 
Some, on the outer edge, breast 
the opposing forces successfully, 
pass the rapids, and disappear in 
the calmer waters beyond. But 
there are others, drawn into the 
very vortex of the whirling waters, 
tossed and played with by the ob- 
stinate currents, and thrown high 
into the air. to land, quite by acci- 
dent, in the placid water they had 
been seeking since leaving their ac- 
customed haunts in the briny ocean. 
On a mild ilay in spring, when 
the skies are blue, the waters sparkling and sun-kissed, 
scintillant with reflected light, it is a pretty sight to watch 
the solid masses of glistening fishes, swimming, pushing, 
crowding through the narrowed waters of the fishway. 
To the colorless inhabitants of Slabtown the beauty of 
the scene appeals not at all. It is the only season of the 
year when their habitual inertia is ever so slightly dis- 
turbed, and then only because the vending of the scaly 
tribe becomes a means of revenue without the expendi- 
ture of much exertion on their part. It is very easy to 
jolt along over a sandy country road, in a rickety, spring- 
less wagon drawn by some specimen of equine decrepi- 
tude, drone out the spiritless cry of the street hawker, 
•' Herrin's ! Herrin's ! Fine fresh herrin's !" and perhaps 
dispose, without bestirring themselves to any appreciable 
extent, of a whole wagon-load in a forenoon. 

There is a certain e.xcitement, too, in the way they 
get their stock in trade. Not legitimately, certainly. No 
Slabtowner was ever known to become possessed of any- 
thing openly which he could by any possibility secure by 
stealth or pilfering. The story of how they evade the fish 
wardens, of the midnight marauding they resort to in 
order to secure the next day's supply, is too long to repeat 
here. Sufficient to say, thry have become inured, by long 
practice, to such manoeuvring, and manage to accumu- 
late by shady transactions what they would never con- 
sent to acquire by honest labor. In the earlier seasons of 
the year, when the young man's fancy is supposed to 
•' lightly turn to thoughts of love," the younger members 
of the hamlet resort to this method to gain the necessary 
funds to prosecute their wooing. 

It so happened that Rans'ler Hawes, a shock-headed 
individual of indeterminate hue, had become enamored, 
in the early spring, of " Minervy " Rathbun, the daughter 
of his next-door neighbor. His mother was a widow, 
and he, her only son, was worshiped with an idolatry 
that had proven disastrous to what little principle he 
might otherwise have possessed. Content to allow his 
maternal parent to provide his sustenance by whatever 
means lay in her power, he had loafed, sunned himself, 
and grown at her expense, repaying her self-sacrifice 
with an occasional curse or sullen threat. And yet she 
loved liim. But now, into his life had crept a new interest. 
Something in the pale-blue eyes, the ungraceful, slouching 
form of his neighbor's daughter, had stirred, in a dull 
way, the currents of his lethargic nature, and he began 
to look about him for means to secure for the object of 
his affections the little trinkets the other youth of the 
hamlet bestowed on the girls of their choice. 

He took naturally to the stealthy pilfering that was 
necessary to secure a load of fish without price, and the 
danger of detection that accompanied the trips as a side 
issue was sufficiently apparent to stir the dormant tiger- 
ishness of his blood. He had brought her many tinselly 
trinkets, and they had been well received. He had 
perched himself on the battered fence in front of her 
father's squalid dwelling, and there smoked and talked 
with the head of the house, while he cast furtive glances- 
of admiration in the direction of his barefooted daughter. 
Then there had been frequent walks down the treeless, 
sandy road that wound away over the hillside to the fertile 
valleys beyond, and when only the recording angel knew 
what hopes he had nurtured, what encouragement she 
had given. 

It all culminated one sweetly calm night, a night when 
only the twinkling stars lighted the miserable shades of 
Slabtown. Rans'ler Hawes had just started out. perched 
on the seat of his ramshackle turnout, for the banks of the 
rushing river beneath the hill. It was well on into the 
night, and the creaking of his wagon wheels rose above 
all the noises of the under-world, those fine vibrations on 
the strings of nature's harp that are hardly perceptible. 
The yellow sands of the narrow road gave back a subdued 
crunching sound to the rattle of the wagon wheels as they 
passed over it. Suddenly, ahead of him a little way, by 
the side of the road, he caught sight of two figures, arm 
in arm. They were coming toward him, and he pulled 
his wagon into the shadows and waited. He had caught 
something familiar in the walk, the outlines or something, 
of the girl. The brim of the old slouch hat he wore 
shaded his face, but the sparkling starshine revealed tiie 
sudden murderous smile that had grown about his sulUn 
mouth. Step by step, conversing in low tones, and uj- 
conscious of his proximity, they advanced in his directio.t. 

One hand crept around behind him into the wagon, 
and drew slowly forth a wicked-looking weapon' he had. 


prepared for liis own defense in case he should be surprised 
by the fish wardens. It was a heavy billet of wood sur- 
mounted with lead. The sound of voices came nearer 
and he climbed stealthily down out of the wagon and con- 
fronted them in the middle of the yellow, sandy hij^hway. 

" That you, Minervy ?" he called out, gruffly. 

The girl quailed and shrank into the shadows be^-'Ul 
her escort. 

" Who you got with you ?" he called out again, mock- 
ingly, with each word coming a step nearer, and finally 
pausing to peer fi.\edly into the face of the young man 
who had not spoken yet from sheer surprise. 

" Oh, I see !" and there was an ominous calm in the 
vicious accent he gave the words. " It's Bill Rathbun, 

an' you— you " he choked with the mad rage that 

surged through his hitherto sluggish veins, " you didn't 

tell me" He paused, and the saucy reply of the girl 

fell on the still air. 

" It ain't none of your liusiness, so there !" she an- 
swered, coolly. " I shall walk jest where I please, an' 
with him, or you — an' you can't help yourself — so I" 

It was the pert, thoughtless retort of a girl proud 
of her conquests, gloating over the rivalry she had in- 

■■Can't I ?" 

He took one step forward, raised the heavy club ana 
brought it down with wicked force on the head of him 
■who had been, thus far, but a silent listener to their dia- 
logue. Without a groan, without a quiver, he went down 
all in a heap in the roadway and lay there, huddled to- 
gether, a miserable black mass, under the scintillant star- 
shine. A sudden shiver convulsed the girl. 

"Oh!" she cried, and reaching out two tremblmg 
hands she grasped his coat-sleeve tightly, ■• you've kdled 
him ! You've killed him ! An' he hain't never done you 
no harm, neither. What did you do it for ?" 

He shook her roughly off and knelt a moment by 
the silent form. There was no pulse in the heart he 
sought, the pallid brow was chillmg last. With a stag- 
gering motion he rose to his feet. 

" 'Twas you done it," he said, surlily ; "you liked him 
all the time better'n you did me, an' you lied to me — 
curse you !" 

The girl faced him, pallid, trembling, the starlight 
shining weirdly all over her coarse raiment, her colorless 
face, and then down to the shapeless dark mass at her 

" Yes ; I did," and a solemn earnestness glowed for an 
instant in her expressionless eyes ; " I did. I liked him 
better'n I did you. He wa'n't so ugly, nor so lazy — an' " 
— chokingly — "we was goin' to be married. I let you 
come there 'cause you brought me things. I wanted 
'em," with a sudden confirmation, " an' you was jest 
fool enough to git 'em for me." 

" Then I'm glad " — doggedly — " that I've killed him. 
He can't never do me no more harm." 

The girl's voice rose shrilly on the night air in reply. 

" But you sha'n't git away," she cried ; " you shall 
hang for it. I seen you when you struck him, an' I'll tell 
— an' " — breathlessly — " they'll hang you." 

She clung to him desperately and opened her mouth to 

cry frenziedly for help. But he drew himself free ot her 
clingmg clasp and, drawing back one hand, dealt her a 
stinging blow in the face, and, turning his back on the 
accusing heap in the road, the reeling, blinded figure of 
the girl, and the old sorrel horse crunchmg contentedly 
the crisp foliage of an overhanging tree, fled into the en- 
compassing shadows that infested the woods and fields 
beyond his vision. 

For months they waited for him to return. The mur- 
tlered boy was buried, a reward was otTered for the ap- 
prehension of the murderer, an indictment was found by 
the grand jury of a neighboring county seat for " murder 
in the first degree," and there the case rested. A lonely 
old woman, on the barren hillside, toiled till evening shad- 
ows fell — toiled and suffered ; and, though she knew not 
God except as she had heard His name cursed, prayed — 
prayed to some power she could not comprehend, that, 
somehow, her son's life would be spared — not for justice, 
but that he might evade the law and the consequences of 
his act. And in the next house an ungraceful, hueless 
woman went silently about with unsmiling lips, her eyes 
wet with unshed tears, and one thought crying at he^ '^eart 
— for vengeance on the murderer of her lover. 

So the snows fell and melted over the barren hamlet 
on the hillside, soft rains came and burst the budding 
flowers, and the earth smiled because spring was awak- 
ened. Four times the seasons followed each other, and 
though the tragedy had ceased to be discussed, the un- 
tiring sleuth hounds of the law had not forgotten. Jus- 
tice, though blind, remembers and is pitiless. From a 
far-distant city, one day, came a letter and a picture ; and 
a stalwart officer climbed the sandy slope and laid them 
in the lap ol the dim-eyed old woman who was waiting in 
one of the tottering hovels. 

" Is that vour son ?" he asked sternly, pointing to the 
pictured face. 

She took the picture tremblingly up and tottered to the 
doorway. " Let me see it where it is light," she said, and 
her volte was emotionless. For a long time she gazed at 
it steadily. Then she gave it back to him. 

" No," she said, quite calmly, and there was icy in- 
difference in the thin voice ; " that ain't Rans'ler Hawes. 
That ain't him. Why," with a sudden uplifting of her 
colorless eyebrows, ■■ I sh'd know him anywheres — any- 
wheres in the wide world — an' that ain't him. " 

The officer sniffed doubtfully. He had failed to sur- 
prise her into anv recognition of the pictured face of the 
criminal, and he turned away disappointedly. From there 
he stepped over the rotting fence into the next yard. " Do 
you know who that is ?" he asked a pale-eyed woman who 
was lolling listlessly on the door-step. 

■■ It's the man that killed my — my — the one I was 
with," she answered presently. 

"You are sure ? Is that young Hawes — what was his 
first name ?" anxiously. 

■• Rans'ler Hawes. Yes ; there ain't a mite of doubt. 
I sh'd know his face anywhere. I'm glad they've got him. 
T hope you'll hang him !" she finished, bitingly. 

The officer took the bit of pasteboard and went down 
into the city. There he reported to his chief what he had 

•' About evenly divided," said that official, smilingly ; 
•• mother against, sweetheart for. Just as much evidence 
on one side as on the other. As for the rest of the dwell- 
ers in Slabtown, their evidence wouldn't be worth consid- 
ering. They have no consciences — will swear one way as 
readily as the other. We shall have to depend on these 
two women for identification." 

" Well, you'll see," returned the officer, confidently ; 
" when we get him here and bring him face to face with 
the old woman she'll wilt. She's his mother and they tell 
me she set her life by him. And it isn't human nature for 
a mother to deny her child. I shall rely on that. He's 
been away so long, and she's missed him — died, almost, 
for a sight of him. She'll break down all right, when she 
catches sight of him, you'll see." 

" Yes ; when the time comes." 

The apprehended man was brought home and lodged 
in the county jail. It was decided that he should not be 
confronted with the old woman of the hut on the hillside 
until the day of the trial, when they hoped to surprise her 
into an admission of his identity. Meanwhile he pre- 
served a stolid silence which neither threats nor per- 
suasion could break. Finally, the day of the trial dawned, 
and hundreds flocked to the great stone court-house. 
There were few witnesses. Just the officers who had 
gone in search of him, and two women, one young, 
gaunt, and angular, with light-blue eyes and hueless hair 
and skin ; the other bent and shriveled before her time, 
wrinl<led and gray, with the same e.xpressionless fea- 
tures as the rest of the inhabitants of Slabtown. 

The younger woman was called first. She told, fiercely 
almost, the story of the night of the tragedy and the 
events preceding it, and how the murderer had struck her 
brutally down and made his escape. " An'," she con- 
cluded, " 1 hain't never forgive him for that^never." 
A shadow, just the flitting shade of disapproval, passed 
over the faces of the jurymen as the prosecuting attorney 
addressed the prisoner. " Prisoner at the bar, stani up." 

There arose from where he had been sitting the 
slouching figure of a man with a shock of lightish hair, 
weak, watery, shifting eyes, and skin ot pallid hue. 

•• Look at the witness. Witness, look at the prisoner." 

For an instant they faced each other. Then the eyes of 
the prisoner roved again restlessly about the court-room. 

" Do you recognize the prisoner ? Is he the man 
whom you saw disappear into the darkness on the night 
of the murder ?" 

" Ye-us, sir," slowly and with startling conviction. 
"There can't be no mistake. If that ain't Rans'ler Hawes, 
then you kin hang me in his place." And she stepped 
down from the witness-stand under the smiling scrutiny 
of the jurymen. 

In answer to the next name called a bent and shabby 
woman took her place. After the preliminaries had been 
disposed of the attorney asked her, " What was your son's 
name, madam ?" 

" Rans'ler." And she paused an instant. 

" After whom ?" 

A quizzical smile curved the lips of the well-groomed 
man standing so near her, but she answered him quite 

" After some big folks I uster wash for. 1 liked 'em, 
an' " — unflinchingly — " I liked my boy, an' they was good 
to me, an' so I named him after 'em." 

" Van Rensselaer, I presume," in a slightly patron- 
izing tone. 

" I dunno. I'm sure I alius called him Rans'ler, 
same's;! did them — that is, till he went awav," apologet- 

Again the prisoner was requested to rise and the wit- 
ness to look at him steadily. •' Madam," suddenly, from 
the prosecuting attorney, " is this man your son ?" 

She surveyed the prisoner from head to foot, swept 
with the keen glance of her small, light eye the tousled 
hair, the shifting gaze, the shabby, ill-fitting garments, 
and then down to the roughened hands that clasped the 
railing of the cage. Then, in a voice that never faltered 
nor wavered, she replied : 

" No ; he ain't my son. I don't know him." 

" Did you never, to your knowledge, see him before ?" 

" Never," stolidly. 

" Madam," the voice of the great lawyer thrilled with 
sudden emotion, " you loved your boy — when he was 
little ?" 

" I alius did." But there was no expression of mater- 
nal tenderness in the voice that replied. 

" You would not care to be parted from him forever — 
to know you could never meet. When he went away, though 
he was branded with the mark of Cain, yet you hoped that, 
in some way, he would get word to you — would see you, 
perhaps. I am not blaming you for that. It is but natural 
to the mother love. Many times since you would have 
risked all, dared all, for the sake of a sight of him, a word 
with him. It would be better for you, mother as you are " 
— the lawyer's voice smote the air with its thrilling 
earnestness, and the prisoner dropped his eyes hastily — 
" better for you, I say, though your son were to meet 
death as the just penalty for his crime, if you could see 
him, know him, and hear him call you mother. Woman," 
suddenly, and bending his glance full on her face, " I ask 
you again — is this man your son ?" 

There was not a sound in all the great court-room. 
The jurors sat in breathless suspense, the judge leaned 
'way across the bar to catch the reply of the witness. On 
the witness seats near by a pale-eyed girl transfixed the 
aged woman in the witness-stand with one accusing^ 
compelling glance. The prisoner alone remained impas- 
sive, sullen. Finally, in the stillness that had fallen over 
the assembled people there, her voice rose, dispassionately, 
as the voice of Justice herself. 

" No," she said, slowly, as if revolving the question in 
her mind, "no; I hain't never seen him afore. He ain't 
my son. That " — and she raised her eyes and fixed them 
in a calm stare on the prisoner's bowed head — "that man 
ain't Rans'ler Hawes, any more'n " — casting about for -> 
simile — " any more'n I am." 

She was dismissed, and presently the jury filed out. 
Then they came back, after a little, to report : " Not 
guilty." When pressed for a reason for the verdict they 
announced that the prisoner's identity had not been esta- 
blished beyond a doubt, and that, therefore, they could not, 
in justice to him, return a verdict of guilty. 

i (e ) 

A lonely old woman toiled up the barren hillside again, 
vvnen the shadows of nightfall were creeping ahead of her, 
and paused at the door of her desolate cabin. A young 
woman was standing there in the doorway, barring her 
entrance. " You here ?" she asked her, dully, " an' what 
do you want ? ' 

The girl faced her in the fading light. " I want the 
truth," she said, sternly ; " you lied, down there," she 
pointed away to the towers of the neighboring city that 
pierced the glory of the sunset clouds. " I want you to 
go back down .there an' tell 'em you lied — tell 'em it was 
Rans'ler Hawes — an'" — with sudden earnestness — "you 
know it was." 

The old woman pushed wearily past her into the dim- 
ness of the little kitchen. " It wa'n't," she said in a low 

" You know you lied." The girl came nearer and the 
fires of a passionate light glowed in her face. " You got 
him free by jest your lies — an' you didn't care — how much 
I suffered — how much he hurt him — when he killed him. 
All you was thinkin' ot was yourself. You never thought 
nothin' at all 'bout nobody else." The girl's voice wav- 
ered and broke with the strength of its emotion. 

A long red lance from the departing sunlight played a 
moment over the elder woman's face and brought out 
vividly the ghastly expression of suffering there. 

"Let me alone," she cried, suddenly, fiercely; "go 
home. Go "way from here an' let me be. I hain't done 
nothin' — no, nothin', ever," a gasping sob put a period 
to her utterance, but presently she resumed, " for my- 
self — but alius, alius — ever sence he was born — for 
him. An' " — she went up to the girl, laid one claw-like 
hand heavily on her shoulder and muttered — " an' — you 
kin believe it or not, but you'll never git me to say any- 
thin' else. That wa'n't my son. That wa'n't Rans'ler 

Hawes." Her voice rose shrilly and trailed away in a 
mirthless laugh on the night air. And the girl turned 
and went away, out of the little cabin, with bowed 

And presently, from out of the shadows, night fell and 
moonlight, effulgent, softened the rude outlines of the 
hamlet. In one of the hovels on the lonely hillside a 
woman, old and shriveled, kept watch by her window. 
And at midnight a slouching form passed her door and 
stood a moment by the open window. She peered out 
into the misty moonlight and scanned his face eagerly, 
" Rans'ler — Rans'ler," she whispered. 

"Hush," he retorted, roughly; "don't let every one 
hear my name," and then, in a gruff murmur, " hev you 
got anythin' for me ? I've got to git out o' this a'gin, I 
suppose — an' I hain't got any money." 

She rose and w-ent into an inner room. Presently she 
returned with a handful of small silver pieces. She 
dropped them into his hand and it closed over them 

" That's all I've got," she said, apologetically, " most 
ten dollars. I've ben savin' it fer ye. Rans'ler," she 
raised her eyes to his face and caught .at his sleeve as he 
turned about to depart, " can't ye, for what I've done for 
ye this day, can't ye call me mother jest once — so' s," in a 
lower tone, " I'll hev it to remember of ye, after ye're 
gone ?" 

Some little expression of compassion swept the coars- 
ened features. He turned back to her an instant, 
glanced once into her eyes, and whispered " Mother." In 
another moment the darkness of night had swallowed him 
up, but the old woman still stood there, where he had left 
her, the moonlight on her face and the sound of the first 
kind word he had ever uttered to her still ringing in her 

Mr. Jones, of the riding-club, entered and rode his horse " Rinky Dink" in the BilgevMIe 
Derby, but he was unplaced. 





















rt O 


: o 




Only One 

To Greet Him. 

GAFFNEY the founder 
of the progressive city of 
Gaffney, South Carolina, 
took a great interest in the 
spiritual welfare of his 
slaves antl built for their 
use a large log church. 

Uncle Archie, a kind of 
a " zorter," preached at this 
church every Sunday morn- 
ing, and upon a certain oc- 
casion delivered a discourse 
upon the Judgment day, as- 
suring his congregation that 
it would b^ a " dark and 
disluni day when ole Belzy- 
bug cums down here an' 
gits alter you niggers." 

Uncle Archie pictured 
hell in all of its fury, and at 
the close of his sermon asked 
all in the congregation who 
were Christians, and who 
were ready to go when Ga- 
briel should^ blow his horn, 
to go up and give him (Uncle 
Archie) their hands. The 

sermon had caused great excitement, as he had succeeded 
in convincing his hearers that the end of the world was 
about due, so nearly all responded. 

In the midst of this some one looked out of the window 
and saw a balloon, 'that had gotten away from a circus at 
Spartanburg, come sailing along! He had never seen a 
balloon before, and was frightened out of his wits to see 

Lady — '■ Didn't you ever work ?" 

Sloppy Sam — "Yep. Had a fine job oncet, but de bum-workers' party nominated me fer 
president, an' I t'rew up me job, an' I ain't been workin' since." 

this great shape flying through the air, and immediately 
cried out, " Judgment day !" and called the attention of 
the others to the balloon. 

In about a minute everybody had taken to the woods, 
except one poor old rheumatic fellow, who started but 
managed to get only as far as the door just as the lialloon 
fell in the yard, only a few feet from him. As the aeronaut, 

a lithe, handsome man, 
dressed in tights with gold 
and silver spangles all over 
them, leaped from the bal- 
loon, the old man, fully loe- 
lieving that "Judgment 
day " was at hand, hob- 
bled up to him, held out his 
hand and said, 

"Howdy -do, Marse 
Jesus, how's yore pa ?" 

Robert M. G.\ffnev, Gaffney, 
South Carolina. 

Simple Addition. 

Assistant — " Here's a 
rumor ol a battle with a 
loss of twelve thousand 

Editor — •• And here's 
another rumor that the loss 
was fifteen thousand men. 
Issue an extra reporting 
rumors of two battles with 
losses of twenty-seven 
thousand men." 

Submarine photographer — " It is a perfect likeness of you." 
Patron — " Great >'eptune ! am I such a looking lobster as that?" 

^ t 

The Hash-knife Outfit Protests 

Hash-knife Outfit, Panhandle Gulch, Arizona. 
r\EAR and honored sir — Having read your paper off and 
^ on since the San Francisco mountains were a hole in 
the ground, and knowing it to be of a serious disposition, 
I now write to unfold that these yere shorthorns what air 
objecting to the admission of Arizona air plumb locoed. 
They shorely do seem to think, being uneddicated critters, 
that we-all on the range air a-shooting up the scenery all 
the time. Which being of the opinion, they're allowing 
to drive her into the corral and brand her fer a maverick, 
putting the New Mexico iron on her. What you-all back 
there needs is eddication, as I aforesaid mentioned. A 
locoed tenderfoot — which his brand escapes me, but it 
sounds like Beef-on-ridge — came out yere and milled 
around some among the Pima wickiups and the greaser 
huts, then pulled his picket-pin and vamoosed with his 
durned committee back into the states, representing that 
we-all weren't civilized, which that shorthorn's long suit is 
gab, but this time he tackled more than he can ride herd on. 
But letting that go in the discard, I puts it to you 
straight that there ain't on this yere footstool a more civ- 
ilized spot than Arizona. I gambles with no limit on 
that it has more scenery to the square inch than any spot 
on earth, and that there are more yearlings rustled in this 
territory than York state raises altogether. That's what- 
ever, or I'm a Chinaman. Likewise — which is more of 

the same talk — there's better sport of all sorts, including 
both bronco and faro bucking. 

It has been slung at us that Arizona is filled with ab- 
sentees. I natcherly allows that having no neighbor is a 
blame sight better than having one you don't want. We- 
all shoot up the undesirable ones and keep the com- 
munity pure, or leastways we throws a gun on him and 
intimates that if he pulls his freight he will find the cli- 
mate of Mexico better suited to his complexion. Yes, sir ; 
you c^n gamble — and I plays this, too, with no limit — 
that the population here is the most cultivated any coun- 
try needs. All the tucks and frills of manhood are right 
here with us. We can bend a pistol quicker than any 
tenderfoot in the states, and can stick to a pitching 
bronco without hunting leather or riding on our spurs 
'ong after he would have taken the dust. 

About this yere gabfest senator orator of yours, what 
they call Beef-on-ridge— mebbe there's the making of a 
man in him yet. If you 'lows that's so, send him out to 
Hash-knife ranch and we'll leam him to ride herd and 
how to tie a bull. He may tackle my sun-fishing mustang 
Pinto, which I am betting — though it's a cinch and plumb 
taking your money — that he cayn't at present last three 
bucks. Likewise we'll learn him to cuss most fluent and 
talk the man-talk instead of chewing like an old lady at a 
hen gabfest. 

Being all for this time, I now puts my brand 
en this letter, YUM.\ J.\CK. 

Joel DiGGEM — " Do >e give yer summer boarders any delicacies ?" 

Cyrus Bigbeard— •' Not a durn one ! If we did they'd begin thinkin' o' what a snap they had in their own homes 
an' light out quicker 'n scat." 




•\N any one in the class tell me what a fount- 
ain is? " 

" Yeth, thir. Pleathe. thir, ith a wain- 
?ithorm sthquirted up thwough a hole." 

Mrs. O' Riley (tenderly, to Norah, who 
has just recovered from a severe illness) — 
■' Don't ate anything, darlint, while yer 
stomach 's impty. Jist wait till it's full, 
an' thin phwat ye ate won't hurt ye." 

It w.'lS not by way of penance that our Chauncey visited 
the pope after tarrying in Monte Carlo. Surely he never burst 
the bank, and the bank wasn't smart enough to burst him. 


Judge — " You have told an hon- 
est, straightforward story. I will there- 
fore be good and give you ninety 

Hobo — " T'ank yer, jedge. I 
knew if I sassed yer an' got yer riled 
yer'd flare up an' on'y give me t'irty 
days er discharge me. Honesty is de 
best policy. T'ank yer, jedge." 


Miss Timberii'heels — "How were 
you impressed by Mr. Noodles?" 

Miss Hungerford — " I wasn't 
impressed. I was oppressed." 

Ethel — " Louise, what's right and wrong?" 
Louise — " Why, ma and pa, of course." 

Tebaccy 'skillin' many th'foine, 
promisin' young mon — troyin' t' git 
th' money t' boy it. 


'Twas the first time 
Willie had seen any 
one with the measles. 
" My !" he exclaimed, 
"Tommy's got domi- 
no-skin all over his 


Grandpa invited 
Dorothy to go with him 
to feed the chickens, 
the morning after her 
arrival at the farm. 
On her return to the 
house she inquired 
shyly, " Grandpa, do 
all hens eat with their 


Weary Walker {sttahng a ride) — " I hates ter walk, 'specially in dis snow, but I can't stand dis, 
thet's certain !" 


ER face is like an unrolled scroll, 
Say those who've read it and are 
Where chosen secrets of her soul 
As herald's tidings are rehearsed. 

With Greek and Coptic I am free. 
And, as a scholar, much suspect 

(It so completely baffles niej 
The scroll is in a dialect. 


Madge — " I wonder why Dolly 
gets taken out skating so much ?" 

Marjorie — " It's because she 
doesn't know how to skate." 



Its passage was stopped by the president. 

Johnny Potts {in his sleep)—'' Ante 1 Ante up, there '" 

Aunt £dda Katim (lovingly) — " Yes, nephew ; I'm up. {Aside.) Haow much thet dear 
^Ounker dew think of his old aunty !" 

" My dear, I thought you said you had done all your holiday shopping?" 
" I have ; but I am now going to look for something fine for Tom to give me." 


A small Episcopalian went 
with a Presbyterian aunt to 
a prayer-meeting in the 
church of the latter. He was 
evidently surprised at the 
proceedings and came away 
in deep thought. 

"Well, Stanley," said his 
aunt, " how did vou like the 
prayer-meeting .' ' 

" Pretty well," replied the 
youngster, "but, aunty, that 
was a very queer minister. 
He didn't know but one of 
his prayers, and the people 
had to say them for him." 


Rejected suitor (pious) — 
" Well, I shall look forward 
to meeting her in heaven." 

Syiiipathizcr — "Is that 
so .' Are you sure ?" 

Rejected suitor — " Yes • 
she is a very good girl. " 

She Mi^ht Have Known It 

CHE had met the young man but half an hour Ijefore, 
and the hostess had asked her to make herself agree- 
able to him. 

" I have been so anxious to meet you, Mr. Jones !" she 
said brightly. "So many people have spoken of you 
that " 

" Pardon me ; my name is Smith," he interrupted. 

"To be sure — I might have known it. You must 
pardon me. You know names are the most difficult 
things in the world forme to remember. Now, there was 
Mr. Ollingham, who was down here last week. You re- 
member him, do you not, Mr. Brown ? He said lie had 
met you "■ 

" My name is Smith, please," he said hurriedly. 

the word you want. The blacksmith hits the iron on the 
anvil, and he Mr. Smithereens 1" 

" Not quite right — it's Smith." 

" Certainly it is. How silly of me ! I might have 
known it. But that was just the way with Mr. Ollingham 
and me. I was forever forgetting his name and calling 
him something else. I hope, though, that I will keep 
your name in my mind |)erfectly, Mr. Brownstone " 

" My name isn't Brownstone ; it's Smith." 

" Now, wasn't that funny ? I was thinking of a silver- 
smith who lived in a brownstone house, and that made 
me think jour name was Brownstone. It is Smith — I 
might have known it. But Mr. Ollingham impressed 
upon me the benefits of his memory-system so thoroughly 

"Smith ? Mr. Smith — yes, ol course. I might have that I cannot but believe it will work all right once I get 
known it. But I was telling you about Mr. Ollingham. practiced in it. Now, every time I think of memory- 
You remember him — tall, dark man, who wears his hair 
long and writes short stories, or does something for the 
magazines, doesn't he ? It was the strangest thing about 
his name, Mr. Perkins " ■ 

" It is Smith, you know." 

" How dreadful of me 1 Of course it is, Mr. Smith — I 
might have known. Mr. Ollingham and I were talking 
about how hard it is for some people to remember names, 
and he said he was just like I am. But when one meets 
a great many folks, you know, Mr. Black " 

" But my name Is Smith." 

systems I think of Mr. Ollingham ; so when I try to think 
of your name I am going to think ' Memory — Ollingham — 
Smitten.' " 

"But I'm not Smitten — I'm Smith." 

" I might have known it. Pardon me again," she 
smiled, blushing. " When I thought of George — er — 
Mr. Ollingham, I unconsciously thought of — of the other 
word — don't you see, Mr. Slipps ?" . 

" It is Smith," he repeated sadly, rising 

" I might have known it." 

'Of course you might. 

" I m i g h t have 
known. Excuse me, 
Mr. Smith. Now, I 
am going to follow 
Mr. Ollingham's plan 
of memory -culture 
and not forget your 
name again. When I 
try to think of your 
name I shall think of 
i blacksmith, or a sil- 
versmith " 

" Or an adsmith or 
a jokesmith." 

" Now, don't poke 
fun at me, Mr. — Mr. 
Blacksmith, Silver- 
smith, Jokesmith — 

Mr. Why, t h e 

memory-system does- 
n't help me. Don't 
interrupt me ; let me 
start over again. Now, 
the blacksmith — what 
does he do ? That's 
the way to go about it. 
You see, you have to 
think of something, 
and that makes you 
think of something 
else, and so on, until 
you come right up to 

But will you convey my con- 
gratulations to Mr. 
Ollingham.'" And he 
made his adieus. 

Later the hostess 
asked her, " Carrie, 
how did you get along 
with Mr. Smith ?" 

"Do you mean that 
Mr. Smithers I was 
talking to this morn- 
ing ?" 

" No. He is Mr, 
.Smith, the son of old 
Mr. Smith, the iron- 
monger, and they are 
fabulously wealthy. 
Don't you remember, 
he is the young man 
I said I had picked 
out lor you ?" 

" Smith ! I might 
have known it." 

Chimmy — " How much fer diamond ring in dere— -de big one?" 
Jeweler — " Four hundred dollars.'' 
Chimmv — " Say, Mag. would yer sooner hev dat er a plate uv ice-cream ?" 

««THE breath of 
suspicion has 
never touched me," 
he srdd. 

"Oh, I don't know," 
said his wife. "I have 
often detected theodor 
of cloves when you 
came home late." 


1. Professor Oluboy— ■• Aha ! a four-leaf clover. They say it is an emblem of luck. What fate ! There is no such 
thing as 

2. luck !" 

The Sleuth. 

UE treads along thro' unfrequented ways. 
■ * The shadow of a shadow. In the wake 

Of erring ones, his glass is oft opaque — 
His theories the merest waifs and straj-s. 
But. then, what matter, when the business pays ? 

What tho' some folks assert that he's a " fake," 

And has the name of being "on the make " — 
He scorns publicity's all-searching rays. 
Meanwhile the cracksman plies his honest trade. 

The second-story artist nimbly climbs 

Ambition's heights thro' sweet wistaria blooms. 
Into his bag the precious jewels fade ; 

There's naught to fear in these industrious times — 
Not even the nebulous prospect of the Tombs. 


So They Told. 

Editor — " How did yon find out so much about tha 
proceedings ot that woman's club?" 

Reporter — ■• It was a secret meeting they held." 

Whose ? 

Deacon 'Rastus—" Ah heah Brudder Snowball leads a 
very regular life." 

Deacon Ephraim — •• Yes, sah. He always goes ter 
bed wif de chickings." 

The Present and the Future. 

(( DRETHERIX," said Deacon Snowball, who was con- 
ducting the question-box at the class meeting of 
the Dahkeyfellers Band of Hope, "some pusson, ter me 
unbeknownst, has drapped in de box a question w'ich he 
links am gwine ter obfuscate me. He writes, 

" ' Is watahmillyon bettah dan' possum, an' what am yo' 
views ob de hyuhafteh ?' 

" Now, I'se gwine ter anseh dis fool in 'cording ter his 
folly. Dat is, I'se gwine ter mek reply ter bofe dese hyuh 
questions, an' I hopes I sheds some light on some po' 
sinnah dat's settin' in dahkness lak a hen tryin' ter hatch 
spring brilers fum a do" knob. In de fust place, I'se 
gwine ter say I neveh ate no w-atahmillyon when 'possum 
was in season, en neveh ate no 'possum whilest watah- 
millyon was in season, en ef I got bofe watahmillyon en 
'possum tergeddeh I'd know I'se in hebben, whilest ef I 
eveh fin's er place whah dey ain't got no "possum ner no 
w^atahmillyon. eitheh tergedileh or in sep'rit. den I'll know 
dey is a hell en dat I's got off at de right co'neh. Less 

sing. w. D. NESBIT. 

Ample Reason. 

" \A/'^^ '''"^ ''^^y ?'^^ Greenbaum a benefit last night.'" 
" It was the most successful year of his manage- 


THE last drum-beat had died 
away. The last strain of 
martial music had echoed on the 
air. Once more a grateful nation 
had remembered its heroes, and 
orators had told again of Gettys- 
burg and Antietam, of Lincoln 
and Mother Bickerdyke. Now- 
twilight had fallen ; the stars were 
lighting their camp-fires in the 
sky, and the odor pf thousands of 
blossoms e.xhaled on the air, like 
incense from sacred altars. By a 
tall gray-granite shaft whose base 
was piled with the white bells of 
lilies stood two scarred veterans, 
one in blue and one in gray. 

" Yes, comrade," said the man 
in blue, " war is indeed a sad 
thing, and the worst about it is 
that its horrors do not end on the 
battle-field. Little did I think 
when you saved my life at the 
Wilderness that I should live to 
see the statues of our heroes that 
adorn New York city." The man 
in blue was visibly affected. He 
bowed his head and wept. His 
companion seemed scarcely less 

" Cheer up," he said, 
that fate, and there are 

Aunt Jane — "That is a very decorous and modest bathing-suit, Louise, and I quite 
approve of it." 

Louise — "I am glad you think it so proper, aunty ; but it is my bicycle-suit, you know." 

Even Columbus did not CLcape 

irse things than a nightmare in 

Small boy (sitting calmly down to await developments) — 

■' Say 

girls, dat 
pond is full uv snappin'-turtles an' blood-suckers an' lamper-eels, an' I seen six 
big water-snakes killed in it yisterday ; an' old Bill Snipes drownded hisself in dere 
last week, an' his body hain't riz yet, an' " (Tableau.) 

marble. Why, don't you remember the man at Seven Oaks 
who bore the dying message of his life-long friend to his 
widow ? Don't vou remember that he mar- 
ried her ?" 

The man in blue revived somewhat. 

" True, I do remember it now," he said. 
" Thank you for reminding me of it. By the 
way, do you recall the time at Manassas 
when you saw a ghost .-■" 

The man in gray laughed heartily. 

" Yes," he said. " And it was old Mother 
Bickerdyke with her lantern. She " 

" Oh, I say," broke in the other, " don't 
you remember that jack-rabbit that ran 
between the confederate and union lines at 
Gettysburg, and was so scared that he just 
jumped up and down and " 

'• And all the boys crying ' Molly Cotton- 
tail ! Rabbit-stew for dinner to-night,' " cried 
the man in gray. " Why, of course, and " 

The man in blue sighed heavily. 

" It's no use," he said. " I can't help think- 
ing about that poor fellow who married his 
friend's widow. He was so fond of peace." 

" Oh, nonsense," said the man in gray, 
" he's all right now ; he's gone to help the 

" Thank heaven !" cried the man in blue 
fervently. " I'll bet he takes no more dying 

As the two friends locked arms and walked 
away the white lilies looked up wonderirgly 
at the starry sky. 

Nipping a Graft Bud 

By James Ravcnscroft 

HE AVERAGE citizen was inspecting" the 
stock ol a corner news-stand. He had 
Iool<ed over a numlier of magazines (only 
a passing glance, of course, but general 
enough to take in most of the pictures), 
and was then bestowing his attention 
upon a humorous publication. 

" Pardon me, my good friend," said 

a suave voice, and the average citizen 

felt a hand laid gently on his arm. 

' " Pardon me," continued the promoter 

of the suave voice, whom the average 

' citizen recognized as a rank stranger to 

him, "but do you realize that you are 

unconsciously forming a tainted habit ?" 

The average citizen's eyes began to take on a look of 
mingled surprise and amazement. His mouth involun- 
tarily opened and shut. He didn't know whether to be 
indignant or good-natured. 

" Ah," said the stranger, " I perceive that you are on 
the point of becoming angry. Believe me, I have your 
moral welfare at heart. You are grafting, doubtless with- 
out being aware of it. You do not look like a confirmed 
grafter. Nevertheless, you are grafting." 

The average citizen was slowly recovering from the 
shock. "Will you kindly tell me," he asked, as he en- 
deavored to smile like he meant it, " what the devil you're 
driving at ?" 

" It will give me pleasure," replie 1 the stranger. " I 
observed that you were looking over the publications on 
this stand. You inspected a number of magazines — looked 
at the pictures and probably informed yourself briefly as 
to the contents. At the moment I accosted you, you were, 
I believe, chuckling over a joke in that humorous paper. 
To begin at the_ beginning, my erring friend, the publishers 
of these wares issued them for sale. You see the sale-price 
is one, then — some ten, some fil'teen,and others twenty-five 
and thirty-five cents. Our mutual friend here, the news- ' 
dealer, bought these publications to sell them. You, for 
instance, come along and glance at the contents of a num- 
ber of them ; in the majority of them, possibly, you 
see all you wish. Of course you haven't the nerve to 
stand here and read a whole story or article, and if .you 
had, the news-dealer would probably object. But in the 
case of a publication like one you now hold in your hands, 
you can in a few minutes acquire several of the entertain- 
ing and laugh-producing witticisms, for which the pub- 
lishers paid the author, and which thev produce in the 
publication at no little expense. You look at the paper, 
read some of the jokes ; vou don't purchase it ; you have 
grafted bot'^ news-dealer and pulilisher and have tainted 

"Hold on. Here !" began the average citizen, who was 
"xhibiting signs of displeasure and discomfort. 

" There, there, now," interrupted the smooth-voiced 

stranger. " I have not said you were not going to pur- 
chase soiiiet/iiiti;. 1 have only used your case as an ex- 
ample. You see, my friend, the point here is very fine, 
indeed. In looking over these magazines, even though 
in the most cursory fashion, you cannot help possessing 
a portion of them. It is not like looking at a cane or a 
hat or a suit of clothes, none of which \ou could possess 
unless you liought it outright. The contents of these you 
can carry away in your mind. Now, you will perhaps 
admit that you had no intention of jnirchaslng all the 
magazines you looked into here " 

" E.xcuse me, sir," the news-dealer broke in, "but I'ni 
running this stand, and I don't object to people looking at 
what's on it." 

" You don't object," declared the stranger, turning to 
him, " because it is a custom to which you have to sub- 
mit. But, just the same, it is graft. 

" As I was about to say, when our mutual friend here 
interrupted," resuming his remarks to the average citizen, 
"you looked at several magazines which you probably will 
not purchase. That was graft — a taint upon \ou and an 
imposition upon the news-dealer. Of course it was far 
from your mind to commit a wrong ; you acted thought- 
lessly. As I said when I accosted you, pardon me. I 
trust I have given you an idea of graft which you may be 
able to successfully use as a basis for thought. 1 know 
you think my conduct and language impertinent and un- 
warranted, but I like to nip graft in the tender bud. If 
you appreciate, as 1 believe you will, what I have said to 
you, I shall be happy. Again begging your pardon, I bid 
you good-day, sir." 

The average citizen and the news-dealer looked at each 

" Well, what do you think of that ?" said the former. 

" Queer one," replied the latter, with a shrug of his 

"Say," said the average citizen, digging a hantlful of 
small coins trom his pocket, " wrap up these three maga- 
zines and this funny paper, will you ?" 

When he w^as gone the news-dealer leaned back against 
the stand and did some quiet but very tall thinking. 

His Chance. 

** REFORE marriage," asserted the soft-spoken, epi- 

^ grammatic lecturer, " woman is an ideal ; after 
marriage she is a lact." 

At this point there an interruption by Henry Pen- 
hecker, who had been compelled to attend the lecture in 
company with his intellectual wife. Mr. Penhecker, real- 
izing that he was safe in a crowd, jumpeil to his feet and 

"And tacts are stubborn things I" 

Mrs. Penhecker, it may be said, had the heartfelt sym- 
pathy of most of the audience, as Mr. Penhecker and the 
lecturer were almost the only men present. 


A little cry, a little laugh, 

A little sense, a little chaff. 

Must bend or ballast each one's staff, 

Ere final draught of life they quaff. 

And headstones sport their epitaph. 


■■ Why are you putting on all 
your ribbons and orders, dear ?" 
said the wife of the British minister 
on the morning of May 30th. 

" Because, my dear," was the 
reply, " This is the Americans' Dec- 
oration day." 


Out in a Chicago boarding-house, 
recently, the landlady's daughter, 
who assists at table, got off the 
usual after-dinner rigmarole — " Ap- 
ple, lemon, custard and rhubarb 
pie, rice and tapioca pudding, and 
strawberry short-cake." The 
One lingered still at table when the 
young lady took her seat for her own dinner, and he remarked, " You 
must have been ' long ' on pie an' puddin' to-day. Miss Phoebe." 
"Oh, my, no!" replied Miss Phoebe nonchalantly. 
" But I noticed they all took short-cake." 
" That was al! I had." 

" I do.n't thini: 

boarders all took short-cake. 

Conductor — " How old are you, my little girl ?" 
Little girl — " If the company doesn't object I'd 
prefer to pay full fare and retain my own statistics." 


Bather — " Catch on to the dude on the springing-board. 
See me haze him." 


The hather — " Thanks.' 

Bather — " Say, will you please give me a light? 

The dude—" Why, certainly." 

The dude (as he alights) — " Thanks to you, sir. I haven't 
had such a good jump and spring since I traveled with Barnum 
live years ago. Could I trouble you to get my hat ?" 

£ > 


His Felicity. 

UPON my hat throughout the 
I wear a big electric light ; 
I also wear one on the shirt 
By which I'm decently begirt. 

Then I can see upon the ground 
The robber that would not be 

And up among the branches 

The darkey who'd corral the 


And so I swing my club in glee, 
And feel I earn my sala-ree, 
That keeps the gay and festive 

A-boilin' all the time red-hot. 

And that is why I gayly dance 
And somersault, cart-wheel and 

And thank my stars, until I drop, 
That I'm a howling countrj' cop. 

Where He Learned. 

THE chance caller delights the parents of the new baby. 
When the infant says, " Ooh, wah, oof, gooble, 
oohaw," he knows exactly what it says. When it asserts 
" Wooshy, boogaw. oofle, oofer," he immediately trans- 
lates the speech. 

" Why, Mr. Pullem I" e.\claims the delighted mother, 
" I understand you have no children of your own. How 
in the world did you become so familiar with 
the prattle of little ones ?" 

" You forget that I am a dentist," he e.\- 
plains. " I have to know what a patient is 
trying to say when he has a rubber dam and 
four or five of my fingers blocking his speech." 

How Careless ! 

(( I SAW Fuddlesome running down the street this morn- 
ing," says the first suburbanite. " What was the 
matter ?" 

■' He was going for a veterinary surgeon and a ma- 
chinist," explains the second suburbanite. 

" What was wrong ? ' 

" Last night he went out to his stable to see that every- 
thing was all right, and incidentally to fix his b^y mule 
and his automobile for the night. You know how care- 
less he is ?" 

" Yes ; but " 

" Well, now the mule has gasolinitis and the auto has 

What Mary Meant. 

MARY STUART had just blown up the castle. 
K.,,1 I" ..!,„ .1 

she murmured. 

I only meant to discharge 

bad !' 
the cook.' 

Realizing the desperate measues needed, some were 
fain to doubt the murder of Darnley. 

His Ruse. 

street-boy — " Sir, have you lost your pocket-book ?" 
Gentieman (searching through his pockets^ "No 

my boy." 

Street-boy— " Ihen you will be so kind to give me a 



All Clear to Him. 

VES," said the traveling artist, who had 
paused to contemplate the charming 
view from Mr. Meddergrass's front yard and 
to drink a cup or two of buttermilk ; "yes, I 
should like to linger in this lovely spot all 
summer. To me there could be nothing finer 
than to remain here and bask in the light of 
inspiration while the wonderlul scenery grew 
more and more upon me. Do you grasp my 
thought ?" 

" I reckon I do," said Mr. Meddergrass. 
" You mean you'd like to loaf around here 
long enough to get hayseed in your hair and 
then sit still till it sprouted." 

The One He Got. 

<< /^LD Biggsby seems to be all cut up be- 
cause young Medoogus is going to 
marry his daughter." 

" Yes; he says Medoogus has taken the 
flower of his flock." 

" Huh ! She's the oldest of eight, and she's 
been on the anxious list for ten years." 

" I guess Biggsby means the wall-flower." 



Can't you read that sign, you little " 

•'I kin read de sign all right, but dat sign's wrong. Dere's good' 

. si 

U c 

■a _r 

^ ^7 

" Dast you go in and see him, Sctiuy ?" 

" Mug," I said, solemnly, my voice 
turned into an affecting tremolo, " lie'd 
roast us alive !" 

" Yes ; but I could stand a certain 
amount of roasting." 

My wretched chum crossed the track 
and climbed up on top of a pile of old 
lumber, where he balanced himself un- 
steadily and peeped into the window, his 
form gleaming ghastly in the pallid light 
with tlie rain glancing from his bare 
shoulders. I stood in the middle of the 
track and shivered with cold and fear. 

Mug tiptoed higher. The treacherous 
pile of splintery lumber toppled and fell 
with a crash, which to our horrified ears 
resembled a long-drawn-out clap of thun- 
der. I fled incontinently. Mug picke<l 
himself up out of the ruin and followed 
painfullv at the best speed his poor, suf- 
fering body could negotiate, with a cyclone 
of prot'anity ringing in his ears from the 
interior of the lighted room. 

I turned my head without slackening 
my speed. " Did you get hurt. Mug ?" I 

"Schuyler," he moaned, wheezingly, 
" I gathered up every splinter there was 
about the club-house, and I think I'm shot !" 

"[Mug," and I wept into the storm, " I shall never steal 
another boat !" 

" Neither shall I ! This one will haunt me forever !" 

" We'll have to pay for it, too." 

" And my twenty cents went with my gun and clothes !" 

" And my postage-stamps are pulpy !" 

" I wish I was dead !" 

" So do I !" 

The wind howled across the marsh. The drowning 
ram sheeted down upon the watery swamp on either side 


Eee(f) firm. 


Papa BIRD (complacently) — "My dear, we little thought last season, when 
we lived in that twig cabin, that in a year we would have a lu.xurious suburban 
cottage of our own !" 

of the railroad track. Two figures, one the soaked effigy 
of'abject misery and the other clad in the picturesque 
negligee of Father Adam, limped on in the pitiless night. 
Far down the mysterious river a little green push-boat 
tossed along on its way to the Mississippi. In the lonely 
room of the Dutch club-house old Mike softly swore him- 
self to sleep. 

Totin' a Gredge. 

Now, upon my word an' honor, ez a nabur an' a friend. 
There's one part uv human natur' I right speedily would mend. 
Not thet sinners would be perfec' by my speshus uv reform, 
An' the atmusphere uv livin' be without a single storm ; 
But 'twould smooth a lot uv fe'thers back to where they ought ter lay, 
An' let the Master's teachin's kind uv hev the right uv way. 
Fer the mos' unhappy mortal — an' I claim ter be a jedge — 
Is the feller thet's a-sulkin' an' a-totin' uv a gredge. 

Don't think thet I would hev you go an' turn the other cheek 
Ev'ry time a churl 's insultin' in his langwidge, so ter speak. 
It's the gospel, I'll admit it, an' it's laid down purty flat, 
But a'cordin' to my thinkin" they 's a better way than that — 
Jes' fergit the thing 's a-livin', an' fergit the inj'ry, too. 
An' you '11 find it pow'fiil so<jthin' from a fightin' p'int uv view. 
These air thoughts uv gittin' even air ez prickly ez a hedge 
To the man thet 's alwuz sulkin' an' a-totin' uv a gredge. 

The world is plenty big enuff fer you an' fer him, too. 

An' they 's piles an' scores uv better things thet you kin find ter do. 

Jes' let the buster go his way, an' likewise go your own — 

It 's really arbitratin', but decidin' it alone ; 

An' when you git ter feelin' thet ter kill a man er two 

Would be sometliin' real consolin' from an injur'd p'int uv view, 

Jes' help some other feller ter fergit his wrongs, an' I pledge 

It beats the best uv schemin' an' uv totin' uv a gredge. 


/■ y 

A curious cu-itoni has come about in London, which may soon be borrowed on this side of the water. The tall, silk hat, it seems, 
makes a good nose-bag for a horse to nibble his noonday oats out of. East-end costermongers are using the cast-oft' headgear for their 
donkeys. The custom is thus chronicled by a British poet : 

Perched on a spruce, pomaded head, 

I used to raise a laugh ; 
And now in these m^- humbler days, 
i still am given chaff'. 

But, still, it's comforting to know. 

Although my looks are gone, 
I'm not .IS empty as I was 

When master had me on. 

nattered and broken, faded, torn — 
My days of fashion dead — 

Behold me 'neath a donkey's nose 
Instead of on his head. 

Half-filled with damp, inferior hay, 

I play a lowly part 
.\s traveling commissariat 

A private ass and cart. 


r\'E known men that was brave 
in shipwreck jest because 
there wasn't any place to run to. 

A Fish Monologue. 

/^NCE upon a time there lived a large fish. He be- 
longed to the codfish aristocracy, and was much 
dreaded by the small fry for miles around. More than 
that, he had a bullheail and was very of-fish-ious. He 
was also a good eel of a fighter and was prone to whale 
every weakfish he met. He was a shark in nature, if not 
in name, and was always watching out to do somebody. 

One day he had a bit of a skate on and started out 
looking for trouble. Near the pike he met a school of 
finns, who were also out looking for bother. They had 
decided to crawfish from the monster no longer. When 
he sawfish coming in such a body he smelt a rat. 

"Hello, you old hake I" barked a dogfish. "We've 
come out to knock you off your perch. Your dace are 
numbered, you old herrin' !" 

It would never do for a fish of his scale to be called a 
sucker, or even a chub, so he felt of his mussels and began 
to pout. 

" You minnows, you sardines, you pinfish 1" he cried, 
" I'll thrash every one of you into fish-balls ! Back, back 
to the shadows ! How dare you enc-roach on my terri- 
tory ? " 

A round of " bass " greeted his threats, and the many 
kinds of fish began to form a line of battle. 

" You old toadfish !" they cried, " you can halibut it 
won't do you any good. You can't shiner round here any 

By this time the noise had attracted a large number ot 
fish. They came from every direction, all eager to see 
the old warrior converted into fish-hash. The following 
day was Friday. Then the submarine battle began. 
They attacked him from every point. He dove and floun- 
dered, swished his tail, and butted in. The pickerel 
picked him, the squeteague squeezed him, the swordfish 
ran him through, the horned pout horned him, the catfish 
.scratched him, the sunfish dazzled him, the muskallonge 

lunged him, and the bonyfish got in his throat and choked 
him. In a few minutes he was a very black and blue- 
fish. In fact, we might go further and say he very closely 
resembled a jellyfish. Then the salmon, the trout, the 
whitefish and the mackerel formed a quartette and sang 
"Pull for the shore" at his funeral. From that time on 
picked-up codfish has been very popular. joe cone. 


The duck [as the doctor passes) — '-Quack, quack, 
quack !" 

The m.d. {to himself) — " I wonder if that bu\l has 
anv inside information ?" 


The CoIoncTs Revolver 

By William J. Lampton 

HE two supreme delights of Colonel 
T.Jefferson Jenkins's existence were 
a collection of guns and pistols frona 
all parts of the known world, and 
his only child, Viola, who had been 
his special charge since her mother's 
death, when she was a very little 
girl. " Arma virunique" may have 
been a poetic combination of an- 
cient times, but in these later days, 
for Colonel Jenkins, it was arms 
and a woman. 

And yet the colonel was not so 
belligerent as his title would inili- 
cate. He had never gone to war 
and had never wished to. He had 
belonged to the militia in times of 
peace and youth, and at fifty the governor of the state 
had appointed him on his staff in recognition of campaign 
contriliutions. At least, his political enemies had so stated. 
These enemies had arisen when the colonel, essaying pol- 
itics in a mild and honorable way, had accepted the nom- 
ination for city council at large and been elected. But he 
served one term only. Disregarding the civic distinctions 
which might have been his if he had pursued the usual 
course of ward politics, he retired with honor and devoted 
himself to the growth and development of his daughter 
and of his famous collection of firearms. In these quiet, 
though diverse, pursuits the colonel's days were largely 
ways of pleasantness and all his paths were according to 
the Psalmist. 

That is to sav, the firearms- never disturbed him, but 
there were moments when the pretty and popular Miss 
Jenkins did. Not that she was not everything to him a 
loving and dutiful daughter should be, but there were 
other men in the world who admired her — younger men 
than the colonel, and handsomer, possibly, but not a great 
■deal, for the colonel was an ideal specimen of his age — 
and many of them were intent upon setting the care of 
the father aside for that of the husband. No man could 
have loved her more than her father did, and none could 
have been kinder and more considerate — it is possible 
that some of them might have been much less so, for hus- 
bands are not invariably the highest types of unselfisl.- 
ness. Yet Miss Viola appeared to be willing to incur 
risks and to relieve her father of a portion of his respon- 

The colonel realized that it is the parent's duty to be 
sacrificed for the child's sake, and he was willing to ac- 
cept the situation, but he wished first to be assured that 
the result would be his daughter's greater happiness. He 
was willirg that the right man should have her, but he 
knew some in her train that he could not indorse for the 
position. They were attractive, as the very worst men 
sometimes are, and Viola was impulsive and impression- 

able, as the very best women often are, and these condi- 
tions were, at times, not promotive of the colonel's peace 
of mind. 

One evening father and daughter were discussing 
these matters in the library surrounded by the colonel's 
cherished collection, which made the place look more like 
an armory than a library, and the colonel had frankly 
stated his doubts and fears. 

" Trust me, daddy," she said ; " trust me. You may 
think I am young and silly, and I won't deny that I may 
be, but I am not so young as not to know that I may havt 
a long time to live, nor so silly that I believe every man 
who solemnly vows that he will make every day of my life 
open in the sunshine as June morning-glories do, if I will 
only give him the chance." 

" Do thev say that ?" he asked, half smiling. 

" Yes, daddy, most of them do, and much more ; just 
as if there wasn't any rent to pay, or doctors' bills, or 
grocers', or coal, or bonnets and clothes to buy, and all the 
rest of it." 

" I have to do that," said the colonel, as though it 
were not sufficiently out of the ordinary to excite com- 

She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. 
" Yes, daddy ; but you've done it so long you're used 
to it." 

He looked at her admiringly, anxiously, tenderly. " I 
don't know, dearie ; I don't know," he sighed, shaking his 
head in doubt. " I want you to be happy, even though I 
must lose you to secure it, but I cannot bear to think of 
letting you go away from me to anything worse." 

"And I'm sure I don't want you to do anything so 
dreadful," she laughed. " You've spoded me, and I 
sha'n't rush heedlessly out of the ills I have to others I 
wot not of. What would you say, for instance, to my 
choosing Harvey Gray as the safest guide to matrimonial 
bliss ?" tj 

" Oh, no — not young Gray," he begged. " I'm sure he 
will never answer. You don't love him, do you .''" 

She patted his cheek and pulled his soft, white mus- 

" Don't you ask questions — you answer them," she 
commanded. " Mr. Gray is paternally disapproved. What 
do you say to Mr. Charles Brinton ?" 

" Not so bad, but none too good," replied the colonel 

" Mr. Brinton disapproved. What of Mr. Leander 
Laird Wilson ?" she went on as if reading from a list of 

" Leander is my choice of all of them," he replied, with 
such confidence as almost to be enthusiasm. " I don't 
know him very well personally, I may say, but I've known 
his father and mother since childhood, and a boy cannot 
come from such stock and not be good." 

" Oh," she laughed, " Leander is so good that he is 

almost stupid. He has pagan ideas of women as wives, 
too, and I don't like liim at all. His character mny be 
excellent, but he is always trying to make love to me and 
he doesn't know how." 

" That is because he truly loves you, Viola," said her 
father seriously. '• When a young man is truly in love 
with a girl the one thing he wants to do best he does 
worst. I have not forgotten my own experience. Lean- 
der is " 

" Now, daddy, you just stop your Leandering," slie 
cried, putting her hand over his mouth snd shutting off 
further speech. " Miss Viola Jenkins will never become 
Mrs. Leander Laird Wilson, though I must admit that 
Wilson is not such a plain name as Jenkins." 

" Not even if your father wished it ?" he asked, taking 
her face in his hands and looking fairly into her eyes. 

" You said a while ago you wanted me to be happy, 
didn't you ?" she replied. 

" ^lore than anything else, dearie." 

" Then, daddy, you can't wish me to be Mrs. W. You 
will either have to give that up or the other. They can- 
not both come true." 

" Not if you tried just a little bit to make them .'" he 

" You don't know Leander as I do, daddy, or you 
wouldn't ask it. Maybe you will some day, and then 
you'll be glad I was firm with you as I am now." 

" Of course I shall not urge you to do what I think is 
best, and I may be mistaken in my judgment of the young 
man, but I " 

The colonel's remarks were interrupted by the entrance 
of a maid, who announced Mr. Wilson in the drawing- 
room to See Miss Jenkins. The young lady was not espe- 
cially anxious to see her caller, but as between the actual 
subject of her father's conversation and the conversation 
itself she preferred the former at the moment, and the 
colonel was not permitted to resume. 

Viola proceeded in very leisurely fashion to the draw- 
ing-room on the floor below, where she found Mr. Wilson 
occupying a favorite corner of his, near a window which 
opened down to a small balcony looking upon a narrow 
lawn between the house and a shady side street. On 
pleasant evenings of spring it was Mr. Wdson's wont 
to sit by this window, or out on the balcony, and com- 
mune, after his own fashion, with the object of his de- 
voirs. She was not enamored of the place or the man, 
but as hostess she had a duty to perform, and as hostess 
permitted her guest to have his way. But there was no 
emotion beyond that of hospitality. 

On this particular evening, which was rather cool 
for the balcony, though the window was partly open, 
Leander sat inside, and Viola observed with dismay that 
he manifested indications of a man with a purpose. She 
knew well what the purpose was, for it had been threat- 
ening for some time despite all her precautions. An hour 
later he had become quite demonstrative and insisted upon 
holding her hand. This she resented, but he laughed 
and grew bold enough to attempt to put his arm around 
her. Then her indignation overwhelmed her duty as 
hostess and she stood up before the rash suitor blazing 
vviih wrath. 

"If you touch me again, Mr. Wilson," she exclaimed. 
" I shall call father." 

Mr. Wilson had a wholesome respect for the colonel 
and believed firmly, from his title and his famous collec- 
tion of deadly weapons, that he was a man who might 
easily resort to desperate measures if need w^re. But he 
had no such opinion of the colonel's daughter. Accord- 
ing to the Wilsonian theory, she was a woman, and the 
only real way to win a woman was with a club. 

" Now, now, Viola," he said coaxingly, as preliminary 
to the proper decision later, " don't talk that way. You 
know that you love me and you only need to be thor- 
oughly convinced of it." 

With this he suddenly threw both arms around her 
and attempted to kiss her, but she broke away from him 
and retreated toward the door. 

" I'll tell father and he'll kill you," she cried, so angered 
that she spoke scarcely above a whisper, and on the instant 
she darted from the room, slamming the door after her. 

Her impetuous manner rather pleased Leander than 
otherwise. He liked a spirited woman — under control — 
and he proposed to control this one, some day. He sat 
down laughing to himself. He had had experience with 
women's whims, and he would wait a few moments 
quietly for her to come back, calm, after the storm of her 
first surprise, and ready and willing to forgive the past 
and begin over again. 

Viola was thoroughly aroused, but when she was alone 
in the hall she hesitatetl so long over what course to pur- 
sue that the' casual observer might have concluded that 
Mr. Wilson was correct in his surmises. But within a 
minute or two she had gathered her wits, and she hur- 
ried up stairs to the library, where she knew she would 
find her father. 

She entered smiling radiantly, but the real glitter of 
her smile was not visible to the colonel. It was not visi- 
ble to any one, but she could feel it burning in her face. 
Her father's thoughts were on something else, and he 
thought he had never seen his daughter quite so pretty as 
when she came toward him. 

" What is it, dearie ? ' he asked quickly, so hopeful 
was he. 

" Mr. Wilson " ■ she began and she almost choked. 

" Has he — have you " he started. 

" Now — now, daddv," she laughed, and the effort was a 
relief to her, " don't you be in such a hurry. Leander is 
very anxious to see that big, new .revolver you brought 
home last week. He asked me to show it to him, but I 
told him I w\s afraid of it, and, besides, you were so fond 
of it you didn't want anybody to handle it but yourself, 
and you would bring it down to him and tell him all 
about it. Won't you ? " 

"Only be too happy, dearie," responded the colonel, 
jumping up like a boy and going, after the weapon. " I 
told you Leander had the right sort of stuff in him." 

The revolver was a grim and terrible-looking weapon 
of the largest size, and the colonel was so proud ot it that 
he had hung it up on the stair-wall as the chief ornament. 

"I'll be down presently," she called to him as he tripped 
along the hall carrj-ing the huge shooting-iron as if he 
were on a burglar liunt. 

^C vi 


Clarence Lightedd — •■ Of course I am willing to wait for your daughter 
until I have made a name for myself." 

Mr. Gotrox — -'Oh. drop that idea! Just wait till you've unmade the 
name you've already made for yourself." 

She stood at the head of the stairs and heard her father 
open the door which she had so recently closed. Leander 
looked up with a broad smile as the door opened. He 
expected to see Viola returning, repentant. Instead, he 
beheld the colonel not a dozen feet- away with the great 
gun in his hands, and Leander was looking directly into 
the fierce and frowning muzzle of the monster. The 
pleased and smiling face of the colonel 
was utterly obliterated by it. For an in- 
stant Leander's eyes bulged and his 
tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. 
Then his blood moved again. 

" Don't shoot, colonel ! Don't shoot !" 
he yelled, and with a wild snort he 
smashed through the window, dashed over 
the balcony rail toward the quiet street 
and disappeared in the darkness. 

The colonel was almost as profoundly 
moved as Leander was. Miss Jenkins 
was hurrying down stairs, for she had 
heard the crash of glass and was afraid 
something had happened. 

" Viola, Viola !" shouted the colonel, 
•' come here, quick ! What's the matter 
with Leander ?" 

And Viola told him. 

Wisdom of the Ancients. 
Eg} ptian sculptor, having been com- 
missioned to ornament the obelisk ol 
Thothmes, set about his task with the en- 
thusiasrr. ot one who is wedded to his art. 
In the course of a few weeks he had cov- 
ered the top half of the shaft with a 
choice collection of hieroglyphics and 
other markings. 

One morning old Thothmes was saun- 
tering through the city and happened to 
come to the obelisk. With some pUde he 
walked about it and deciphered the in- 
scriptions which referred to him as a 
marvel of wisdom, benevolence and state- 

"That's all very good," he remarked 
to Ptuthless Menocassus, who, chisel in 
hand, had descended Irom his scaffold- 
ing to hear what his monarch might have 
to say ; " that's all very well. But I 
observe several square yards of signs 
and symbols which are not recorded in 
any of my books. Indeed, I doubt if 
they stand for anything. What do they 
mean ?" 

" Oh, son of the moon and papa of the 
sun," replied Ptuthless Menocassus, 
" canst the slave of thy slave tell thee ? 
Verily, the signs and symbols mean 
nothing to us. I did but carve them there, that the wise 
men who will live in five or six thousand years may have 
some fun deciphering them." 

So saying, he went up the ladder and made a figure of 
a chicken swallowing a hippopotamus, which, all unknown 
to him, meant that some man would some day write a 
series of magazine articles. 

I KNOW a man that thought there was 
nothin' strange at all about th' funniest 
customs of th' Sandwich Islands 
lived there. 


Fancy-work scissors — •• Good morning, Mrs. Cotton Thread ! Has Miss 
Darning Needle recovered from her illness ?" 

Cotton thread — ■' She 's mending rapidly, thank you." 

An Old Salt's Observations 

IWE shouldn't never refrain from eatin' beefsteak for fear 
'' th' cow it was cut from hadn't lived a moral life. 

I laughed at a passenger on my ship real aggravatin' 
once because he didn't know what th' main to'gallant s'l 
was. After we landed he took me drivin' in th' park to 
Boston. Soon he stopped an' climbed out of th' buggy. 
" I've got to fix the sir- 
single on th' off horse," 
says he. If I hadn't kept 
my mouth shut he'd 'a' had 
that laugh back on me. 

The Hindus never 
Would have started vege- 
tarianism as a part of their 
religion if they hadn't lived 
in a hot climate, or if they 
hadn't lived somewhere 
where meat was hard to 
git. Yet lots of silly Amer- 
icans admire 'em an' talk 
about their devotion to 
their faith. I wonder why 
th' same folks don't sing 
hymns of praise about th' 
Esquimaux because they 
don't eat oranges. 

Ain't we queer ? My 
wife makes all her own 
clo'es an' ain't a bit vain ; 
but once, when I took her 
to Paris, she spent most 
of her one life's visit there 
in lookin' in at th' dress- 
makers' wmdows. I hain't 
never made any of my own 
clo'es, an' yet I can't re- 
member that I ever once 
so m u c h as stopped to 
look into a tailor's window 
or wasted ten seconds in 
front of a ready-made clo- 

I had a man in my 
crew who could make all 
kinds of sailor's fancy 
knots. A clergyman sailed 
with me, one trip, an' 
watched him, interested. 
By an' by he says to me, 
"That's a mighty ingen- 
ious knot," he says ; " but 
it ain't so important to th' 

race as th' ones I tie," he says. " Th' matrimonial knots, 
I mean," he savs. " No," says th' sailor, who had been 
a-listenin'; " but I can untie mine without breakin' no 

You know about icebergs .' Th' biggest part of 'em is 
under water. When thev strike a warm current the water 

melts that away, an' th' first thing th' iceberg knows is 
that it tips over an' goes smash. It's jest th' same about 
a man's dignified resentment an' a woman's tears. As 
long as she lets it float in a cold current of her own 
anger it towers up, defiant like ; but let her cry a little bit 
an' down it comes. I know — I've had it worked on me. 

There's many thing 
of ditTrent kinds that us 
poor critters here below 
has reason to be grate- 
ful for. I knowed a man 
who had such bow-legs 
that the landscape, viewed 
between 'em, seemed jest 
incidental like — as if, as it 
were, we was a-lookin' at 
it in parenthesis. He sailed 
on my ship. We was 
tied up near a quarry — 
goin' to take on a cargo of 
cut stone, you know. 
They let off a blast. Big 
rocks hit my ship. The 
bow-legged man was on 
board in charge. When 
I got aboard I found him 
kneelin' on the deck, 
pourin' out his thanks to- 
God. " What's th' mat- 
ter?" I asked him. "Th" 
Lord be praised!" he 
says, " for givin' me bow- 
legs," he says. " If they 
hadn't been made like a 
ring," he says, " that rock 
would 'a' hit 'em an' broke 
'em both," lie says. " As 
it was, it jest went through 
between 'em I" he says. 


Felt Herself Buncoed. 

J/rs. Co h u> ! gg e r — 
" Why won't you go ta 
that French restaurant 


Mrs. Flatte-Hunter — "Mr. Dauber, why have you put your 
furniture up in that fashion ?" 

Mr. Dai'ber — "Well, you see, I have more room above the floor 
than I have on it ; so wlien I want to use the furniture I just let it down." 

Mrs. Parvettue — " Be- 
cause I paid a big price 
for a dish with a fancy 
name and it turned out to 
be only a kidney stew." 

A Sharp Trade. 

A N Irishman was told by a teacher that his cliarge for 
■^^ tuition was two guineas the first month and one 
guinea the second. "Then, be jabers," said Pat, "I'll, 
begin the second month now, I will." 

Beatrice Sperbec^ 


The Man Who Fit with GinVal Grant 

By Max Mcrryman 

INE HOURS in the saddle astride 
a horse whose gait was calculated 
to convey the impression that no 
two of hif legs were of the same 
length, and whose bony sides were 
so toughened by length of years 
that they were impervious to spur 
or rawhide, had so exhausted me 
that I decided to halt at the next 
house I came to there in the back- 
woods and seek food and a shelter 
for the night. Tlie horse was of 
the hard-mouthed breed, and when 
he was inclined to wander far from 
the road in pursuit of tenderer 
and more abundant grass than the 
dusty roadside afforded, no tears, 
prayers, threats, or curses — no 
yanking of the bridle rein nor use 
of the rawhide whip on his gaunt 
sides could move him from his 
purpose. It was partly on account 
of this perversity of spirit and the 
leisurely gait of the brute that we had been nine hours 
covering about twenty miles. Once the horse had gotten 
rid of something less than a million of gnats and mos- 
quitoes, and also of me, by lying down and rolling ov