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1 THE WIT &HUMOf.
! OF A NATION IN

PICTURE, SONG & STORY

f .lUSTRATED BYAMERICA'S greatest ARTIorSi

SPECIAL EDITION

CARICATUR

{TENTH EDITION)

WIT AND HUMOR OF A NATION
IN PICTURE, SONG AND STORY

find tl
immec

ds t(

Illustrated by

Grant E. Hamilton

^jlHHIIl..

J. Conacher

"Zim"

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

pvrmi^p

Bob Addams
Albert Levering

F. Nankivel

\wMiF:^m}im.

Malcolm Strauss

S. Werner

^mmWQi

F. H. Ladendor

"Gus" Dirks

Charles Sarka

F. L. Fithian

'PR'W^

R. S. Bredin

"BB" Baker

Albert Bloch

J. H. Smith

\r M%^

Bert Levy

Sydney Adamson

/|f

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

JUDGE COMPANY, 225 FIFTH AVENUE. NEW YOR

1909

Copyri

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 ?"

He-

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.

A STANDING JOKE.
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."

ICED TEE.

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-
scribed.

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

"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

Poet's Note.book.

sonnet.

A
' Am

yUKRV.

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 ?"

price,
Ixmnet —
. nice,
pawn it

poke.

(loLJuO*

SECOND NATURE.
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 ? "

Graft.

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.

EUGENE GEARY.

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-
ively."

-STICKY FLY-PAPER.
What little Willie Fly would like to do if he was a king

Entirely.

■'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."

STRICKLAND W. GILLILAN.

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
there."

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.

EUGENE GEARY.

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
friends.

" 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.

ts-a

o a o

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" •^'T

■"2 3

2. jr ■■"

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-c " -.

t^r So' ■^-

faces
whe

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— 5-

? ^

/ \^

XO USE HAVING MONEY.
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
father."

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
tire.

"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."

7f^^/\//A/Q

SUSPICIOUS.
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."

■^^-^

A SWELL NAME.
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) —
"Turks!'

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

Little b 0 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
answer."

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

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."

TO THE HEAD OF THE CL.A.SS.
Teacher — "What was 'the restoration.' Bobby?"
Bobby — " A fake. Pop 's just as bald as before he used it.'

A HARDER MATTER.

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."

Notable.

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.

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

- s

X —

S = C

--: '£

- 3

First sailor —
Second sailor-

SWEEPING THE DECKS.
' 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."

Unavailable.

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 !"

WILLIAM LINCOLN BALCH.

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."

Saving.
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.

END OF THE HONEYMOON.
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."

A SONG-TALE FANTASY

By LA TOUCHE HANCOCK

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.

IT IS RELATED, TOLD AND SAID :

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 !

IT IS SUNG :

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 !

IT IS RELATED, TOLD AND SAID :

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

IT IS SUNG :

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

IT IS RELATED, TOLD AND SAID :

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 ! (

IT IS RELATED, TOLD AND SAID :

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.

IT IS SUNG:

'• 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 !"

IT IS REL.ATED, TOLD AND SAID :

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 !

IT IS SUNG:

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 !

IT IS RELATED, TOLD AND SAID:

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

IT IS SUNG :

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
pie.

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

meteors.

/5-

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
say."

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
born."

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.

■'-l-

First beetle — "

Second beetle—

ing to find wliich one.

A Liberal View.

LI.VVE you seen much of Miss Dumonde ?

DOCTORS STUMPED.
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
proceedings."

\Vd

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
you.

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
appetite.

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
tide.

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."

JACK ArPLFTON.

HOW HE FOUND HIM.

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
smile.

Ignorance.

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

pathos."

IN ELDRIDGE STREET.

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
peerage."

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

streets.

Miss Johnson
yo' know."

Mr. Jackson — "Suttinly not

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

I expec's ter git de poker occasionally."

I'l

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
months.

" 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-
latures.

" 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
reply.

■• 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.'

■z(

" ' 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 !

JOEL BENTON.

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 )

■i^,

•^

— .

H-.

2 '-«

I I

2:^

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
world.

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

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-
ment.

" 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
had.

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
sprocket."

'• 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
blame.

" 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-

i.-r

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
vouchsafed.

" 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
you."

" 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
findings.

" 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
might.

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'
given.

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

" 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-
chanics.

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
thaw.

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.
Um-hum."

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
ensued,

" 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.

H
O

n
o

3
z

in ^

IN THE MUSEUM.
" 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,
Aglow,
Incarnadine the gloom.

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

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
brim.

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."

ANENT A PERSONAL FRIEND.

' 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-
leaf."

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
spurned.
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
g<X)d.
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"
boomed.
Oh, well, it's over. As for me.

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

Since tliey've adjourned.

AT THE WHANGDOODLE CLUB.
"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 "

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

Mental Microbes.

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

The way of the transgressor is barred by extradition
treaties.

Fate gets a good deal of blame which belongs to
stupidity.

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
oleo."

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."

TOO FAR OFF.

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
H

/^V

^^r:^^<-.-

THE SUFFICIENCY OF WEALTH.
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.

W. F. FINEFIELD.

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."

Tkacedian-

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

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

J-S

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."

APPROPRIATE.
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."

OBVIOUSLY BENEFICIAL.
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
Pirate.

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
block."

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-
ers."

•■ 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
cheap.

"Like thirty cents ?"
he queried.

"Liketwenty-nine,"
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
musings.

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

Slang is sometimes
a balm to a broken
heart.

Gossip.

((

SHOWING HER ANCESTORS.

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."

TOO MUCH TONNAGE.
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."

W^\

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A US

l-< ' -c

OH, HORRORS!
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
bonnet."

Expressing
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
away.

i:'''.^H^^^

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

WELL PICKED.

'• 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.

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

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WHAT'S IX A NAME?
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."

PROVEN !
•• 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.

HE UPHELD A BANNER OF THE FREE.

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
Clarke.

" 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-
board."

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."

FAMILY PRIDE.
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."

A""*

Q
U
Pi
<
PL.

PL<

fa
fa

PiS
H

Ha) I-^

THE BIBLE TRUTH.

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

Obituary.

fFrem tht ll'rekly Trtgo Truck,
patch.)

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

Son.

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."

IN THE ROUGH.

" 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."

MIGHT HAVE BEEN WORSE.

Wa-al. this is what I call luck.

«pl

Not Definite.

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

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

Thought sure 'Mandy

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

" 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
won.

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,"

SETTLED.

' 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
Sufftrmg.

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." '■■

TRUE.
"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
adulterated."

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

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
Crumb?"
;■ THE WRONG KIND.

■^•^

CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK.

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
cat.

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
mouth.

" 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.

Tactics.

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

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

A CASE OF JAM.

■• \ 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."

THE REMEDY.
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."

GOLF DIALECT.

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
commandingoffi-
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
none.

" 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

Business.

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
results."

XN I ^'^

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

\ HORRIBLE TORTURE.

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

Cli

— l->

■ctJ

S "

TO ^

^t3

4J -i::j

32
< 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
desert.

" 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
entirely."

" 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
Chicago."

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

AT OUR SUMMER BU.A.RDING-HOUSE.
*' 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.

COULD HE DO IT? NO!
' 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?"

TRUE ENOUGH.
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 wh.it I borrow, don't I ?"

The Trouble,

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

"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
night
In "Sweet Vii^inny
Spray."
Father chews "Carliny
Leaf"
And mother chews the
rag.
This house is just a case in
brief
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
them."

"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."

o^~

EXPENSn'E.

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;.

NATURAL GROWTH.
" 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."

IN THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.

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 -

MODELS OF PATIENCE.

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."

Logic.

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 ?"

Fame.

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."

HIS PREFERENCE.

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 !"

cr'>j.J^^}>V

BOSTON

DICTION.

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

JUDGE'S FASHION HINTS.
To make tlie latest Style veil, take a plain veil
and apply corn-plasters.

TRIFLING NOTIONS.

Grief is simply joy in the third per-
son.

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.

IN TOPSY-TURVY L.\1'ID.
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."

HE DIDN'T TELL.

" \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."

A REMARKABLE CHEST EXPANSION.

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
say

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 !

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

AN ALTERNATIVE HINTED.
Mrs. Fallon — " Good - marnin',
Mrs. Toolan ! Do yez t'ink we'll hov
war?"

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
butter."

" Then do they make augers in
an augury ?"

STEf PING-STONES.
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.

Disproved.

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.

Time!

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-
wheel."

" 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
needed."

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."

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

A FACT ON THE FACE OF IT.
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 killikin.ck

lOLLERIN'
sprung a
leak. You
have got to
pump.

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
have."

" 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.

A PATRIOTIC LADDIE.
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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Assayed.

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
him.

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

■'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."

Hfi^iMmn-niy,

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

Impossible.

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
ideas."
■ " 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'
blend."

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.' "

'^^^

AT THE TRACK.
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
singing.

'• 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 !
A-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-ah-ah-ali-ah-ah!
Closevoureyesingent!eslumber-r-r-r-r-r-r-r !

A-h-h-h-h-li-h-ah-ali-ah-AH-AH-AH-H-H!"

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

DRESSED TO KILL

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.

ENCOURAGING.

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
questions.

"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."

Poverty.

.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."

UTTERLY WORTHLESS.
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
voice,

" Behold, I am alone and there
is no one to help me. I need an
assistant."

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
moon-faced."

And he saw stars before he
could escape from her orbit.

Isolation.

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."

Paradoxical.

(< 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."

VERY SIMPLE.
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.'

1*7

LITTLE CHRYSANTHEMUM.
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

grip

? He seems to be a distta-

ACCOUNTING FOR IT.

•• 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-
jioon."

" 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.

WILLIAM J. LAMPTON.

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

SWELL.
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

aglow
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.

A "BUM" SINGER.

Frills.

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
Georgia.

" 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.

-on-

BUT THE BIG BRE.AKER BUTTED IN.

a pedestal."

E^=i_^S^^g*

Foolish Jap.

THE Japanese offi-
cer was being
court-martialed.

"If you have any
excuse to offer for
allowing your com-
mand to be cap-
tured," said the gen-
eral, " I will hear it

now.

The man on trial
shook his head
gloomily.

"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.

"IT'S .VN ILL \\TND." ETC.
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
foot.

" 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
treat."

Subsequent
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
scene.

REASSURING.

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.'

•z<

v: ;i- ^

5 » a

a. T <

c -^ >

F - 2

T 5

? o
n

As to Nonsense Verse.

T was a plodding poet-man.
\\ ho wrote some iionseii^t-
\'erse —

The siirt l)iat frabbled readers
hail
With curdlous. crushful curse.

He sang about a bhjojus jay
Whicli dimmed a bushy
blunth,
And thus gave him a recksome
rhyme
To blendifv witli month.

He gleedled of the jelly-tree
Where foodled muggers wink.

And tlumght up hip]5<>d(j(i]iu-
words
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
verse
Was never put in print.

'•Don't
Jones ?"

"Well,
hev?"

(,)UITE APRurOS.
\(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.

NO WONDER.
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-
bi-ard."

CR.\CKING NUT.S WHILE UNCLE lERRV PLAYS THE FIDDLE.

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
arm.

" 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."

■vste.,

WHAT THE CARDS PREDICTED.

Muriel — •• Nuxt summer, dear, you will take a long journey abroad aiiJ become engaged to a tall, fair man with heaiw of
money."

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."

^\i)

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
listener.

" 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

[litfftllll
"THEY COME HIGH, BUT WE MUST HAVE THEM."

HIS OBJECTION.

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^

AN ECONOMICAL YOUNG WOMAN.

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.

JUST THE REVERSE.
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.

A GREAT SUFFICIENCY.
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. ^^_

HIS FIRST.
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

PECULIARITIES OF OUR NEIGHBORS.

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
listener.

" Yassuh ; ol' Deacon 'Lije Hossfut —
yassuh."

" 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.

A VALUABLE DISCOVERY
" 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-

NOT PALATABLE.

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
naturalibus."

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-
ed.

ANGRILY the
owner of the
automobilestares
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."

THE OLD MAN'S OPINION.

" 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."

Explained.

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-
pose."

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-
claims.

"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.

MEOW!
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.

JONES-

Smith-

A BETTER PLAN.
"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

JUST AS HE PREDICTED.

"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

about"

" 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."

ir.

>
o
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X
H

H
en

^sr

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 !"

WIIV THE KING CHANGED HIS MIND.

ANOTHER MONT PELEE. •
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
building.

" 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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FULL DIRECTIONS.

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 "

POLITICAL POINTERS.

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.,

AN EXPENSIVE SMILE.
Jayson — " That girl's smile haunts me still."
Payson — " Her smile haunts me too. I asked her to have a

TIME WORKS WONDERS.

Jim Jonsing, aged six, and the turkeys.

Jim Jonsing and the turkeys ten years later

JONES WON THE TURKEY, BUT

H.^D TO TAKE HOME QUITE A

•LOAD."

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."

Logic.

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."

agam
His face betrayed
"smile."

the

" No one will know," he softly
said
(A foolish thing to say) ;
" For every time you turn )uur
head
It takes my breath
away."

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."

ITS PECULIARITY.
"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

Expression.

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
pledge."

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-
where."

" Impossible ! With
that old chestnut ?"

" But I did it just the
same."

" How did you work
it?"

" 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."

MERCY SAKES !
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.'

WILLI.AM TELL was
quite heroic.
But we'd have less cause
to grieve
Had lie only shot the apple
From the head of Moth-
er Eve.

A GIVE-AWAY.
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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IN WYOMING.
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
Bulletin.

DAR will be a quiltin' pahtj'
At Miss Yokum's Mond'y
night
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
debt.

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
ebenin'

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
names.
Dar should be sum conterbu-
shuns
Fo' ''e pastah's chillun's
games.

Frid'y night de ole folk gaddah

Fo' ter 'range 'bout buyin'

wood

Fo' de chu'ch an' fo' de pah-

s'nage

An' de pastah's gen'ral good.

Sat'd'y night de chu'ch choir
'sembles —
Tune yo'r voice ter sing de
praise
When de ushers Sund'y mawnin'
Shoves de plates ter maik a
raise.

CLOSE TO THE IDEAL.

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

Problem,

«<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."

HOW IT HAPPENED.
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

Shop-sauce.

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.

Precautionary

Abstinence.

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
'mynewboardin'-house.
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
tliat?"

Waggles — " Where
t'lose artists who draw
ilie f.ishion-plate figures
ni ui.a;.:;e to get their
models."

COMING TO AN .AGREEMENT.
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

Developed.

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

WHERE THE KICKING IS DONE.

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
ask."

Everybody Has

Them Now.

THE editor-in-chief of
the comic weekly
called his staff about
him,

"Gentlemen," he ob-
served, " I perceive a
tendency on your part to
continue producing ap-
pendicitis jokes. C u t
them out, please."

^eeWC—^

A COON EDISON.
'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."

MORE SUITABLE.
• 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-
deed."

" 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-
agent."

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.

A "CLENCHED" HAND-OUT.
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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A BARGAIN.
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
horn,
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.

0 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
man.'

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.

WILLING TO PLEASE.

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

MUST BE DRY.
" 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.

UABEL SNOGGS
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 !"

SEVERELY PUNISHED.
" 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,"

Appropriate.

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."

Palmistry.

(( 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.

SATISFIED
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."

-BOS/^DDAMS-

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.

Lucid.

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 ?

HIS READY ANSWER.
" Didn't I just give you a quarter down on Twenty-third
street?"

'• 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.

THE USUAL TIME.
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.

IN BOHEMIA.

"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
lake
Of ice. begirt with

snow.
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
them."

The Limit.

Blibson — " Foggs is
becoming autocratic."

Glib son — "Worse ;
he's becoming automo-
obilistic."

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
here."

" Who would have imagined
it was so far ?" commented the
guest.

" Oh," was the airy response
from the clerk, " if the atmos-
phere was only a little clearer
it would be three hundred miles
away."

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

drink."

" I know ; but he has always

mislaid or lost it, and frequently

he can't find another."

WITHIN THE LIMIT.

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."

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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 "

NOT INFECTIOUS.
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.

AN -AJfNIHILATOR OF "TIME .\ND .SPACE."

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The Horrors

of War.

TWO men sat in
the smoking-
room.

" 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
read.

" At dawn the
Russian column
moved on the out-
works, under com-
mand of Gener-
al lanovitchkiple-
venovetskyovitcli.
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-
kiplevenovetskyo-
vitch, Colonel Og-
oroffak 1 i eff ravone
vitslnoff, Captain

Romaniefflaysklergnopieff, Lieutenant Veranolieherallieff-
kjonakoff" The reader's voice suddenly ceased.

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NOT ON THE J.WV.

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
sadly.

"Seven this
morning," he said
in a choked voice.
" Send for the cor-
oner."

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'."

Diplomacy.

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."

.\NVTniNG TO BLAME IT ON.

Mother — "Johnny Jones, did you get that awful cold out skating ?"
Son — "Molher. I think I cauglit it washing my face yesterday mornino.

ONE UF THE MAC'S.
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

shortcomings.

One Reason.

<« ALSO," con-
tinued the
portly la<ly who
was delivering a
lecture on " the
duties of the mod-
el wife " before
thewoman'sclub,
" 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
audience.

" 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)-

KUR FACIAL HARMONY.
-" 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."

A GAME OF ClI.^XE.
Will Biddy "stand pat"?

ORDNANCE AND ORDINANCE.
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?"

(II

'^t^m

TURNING THE HOSE ON HTM.

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 !"

DRAWING A PARADOXICAL PARALLEL.
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.

HILE

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
by-flyer.

" 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

inistake."

A GOOD SIGN.
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"

WILLIE BACKBAY'S COxNFESJION.
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.

TOO GOOD FOR HIM.

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'
death."

Casey — " Hangin' is he? Shure, thot's too good fer him."

BOXING HIS EARS."

AT THE SEANCE.

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-

Fortune-telling.

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
asked.

Ten minutes later
he was holding her
hand and his own fu-
ture had been settled.

Defined.

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
mirror.

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."

UNFORTUNATELY
the things that are
too good to be true are
a good deal scarcer
than the things that are
too true to be good.

BETWEEN ACTORS.
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-
onds."

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 HE KNEW.

• 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.

UNAVAILABLE.
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

Pierce.

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-
doogus.

" 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~

POOR THING!

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-
serves,

" 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-
draw.

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.

HOW'S THIS FOR LOGIC?
'■ 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
Arkansas.

•' 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-
futes.

"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-
nates.

«I-IA, HA!" laughed
the first street-
railway magnate,
who was going
through his mail.
" Here's a funny let-
ter."

"What is it?"
asked the second
street - railway mag-
nate.

" Oh, the usual
bunch of complaints
about the service,"
explained the first
speaker ; " but it is
signed ' A patron of
twenty years' stand-
ing.'"

HIS DEFINITION.
" 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 0 b —
" Yes ; a scheme of
his, and it worked
beautifully. He was
working him for a
couple of passes."

HOW THE UP-TO-I>ATE PROrRIETOR OF MANI.ESS BEACH UTILIZED THE SEA-SERfENT.

In the Gro-
cery.

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

■RASTUS'S INGENUITY.
'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
Furniture.

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-
tertheconvention
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."

'•THE TIE THAT BINDS"
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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CTQ '^

WHEN A FELLOW

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

WISHES HE IL\D NEVER BEEN BORN.

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
sky,
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
paper.

" 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

Oversight.

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
walking-canes!
And who finds ac-
commodation
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."

BASEBALL IN FROZEN DOG.

Bron'CO Bill — "Lord! Jack's made a glaring
error."

Grizzly Pete — "Why, de game ain't started
yet !"

Bronco Bill^— " Nope ; but he's going inter de
game without his gun !"

BICYCLING TERM,
" 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 !"

Correct.

Joties — " In what
time does McGovern
usually win ?"

Bones — " Jig"

THE CRY OF THE WEARY.
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
Disintegrate.

Friend — " Mar-
riage is a lotter)'."

Confirmed bach-
elor— " Take no
chances."

(( 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."

AN INDUCEMENT.
'• 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
edition."

THE HOG-TR.UN.

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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A RELIEF.

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
Wave.

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-
pathetic.

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."

HIS SEAT.

MosE — "Dat's de bull Jeff swapped his ole mule fer."
Pete — "Huh ! Jeff 's got a seat on de stock-exchange.'

THE SMART SET.

" 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.

EXPOSED.

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
place.

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
eyes.

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-
ty-pin.

ACCOMPLISHED HIS WISH.

To be a big gim

Was what he desired,

So first he got loaded
And then he was fired.

ANYTHING FOR A RIDE.

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.

BUILDING ON SAND.

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."

IX THE SWTM.

"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'>

^:7<:<^7!^;^i

THE FIRST LAW OF NATURE.

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
court-room.

'■ 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.

Culinary.

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
woman."

•■ 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
skirt."

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
dogs.

THE SUM.MER MAN AT THE BEACH.
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.

ly?

MISS KITTY'S PROPOSALS

By W. W. AUUCK

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
thus:

" 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.
Stewart."

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-
ously.

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
envelope.
' " 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

THE ONLY CONTINUOUS VAUDEVILLE.

THE UNCERTAINTIES OF GOLF.
' 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. .

THE ALTAR.
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.

THE OBJECTIONS OF A CANNIBAL.

'• 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
rival.

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

A FONETIC ADVANTAGE.

" 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."

THE BACHELOR'S WONDER.
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
things.

"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-
sons."

" 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-
ness.

" 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
aright.

" Who, me ?" he sputtered, without

FELLOW clTi2.eMi,i VrtweeFO' ME A VAST SEA OF

BRIGHT FACES :; ' :

*ar^^

GEOGRAPHICAL— THE BLACK SEA.

' "+ ^

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.

SOMETHING HARD TO BEAT.

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
together.

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

lung.
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

learned.
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."

STRICKLAND W. GlLLILAN.

H-^

Cupid's

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
skull."

" 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
everything."

'• 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
soda-fountain."

" What have I to do with that ?"

Tempest.

•• And it looks just like a Greek temple."

•• Well ?"

" And they have twenty-four different flavors."

"My!"

"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

saint."

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.

UR. AND MRS. BLANK
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-
dressed.

•' Willie," said his mother,
" haven't you forgotten to say
your prayers ?"

" Why, mamma," he re-
plied, " is God 'way out here,
too ?"

A SHINING EXAMPLE.

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
dollars.

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-
ment.

" 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'
course.

" 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
nights.

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-
ductor.

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

\V.\ITER
CfSTOMER —
as possible."

LOOKING FOR QUANTITY.
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
fares.

•' 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
12x14.

" 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-
gusted.

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-
erate.

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
remark,

" 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
of"

" 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-
gley."

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 ?

FRANKLIN p. ADAMS.

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

1. A LAND-BREEZE.
" 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 !

CAROLYN WELLS.

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,
y'know."

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
Enza.

.\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.

Defined.

♦* 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.

A NOVICE.
"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
was.

" 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
first,

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
said,

" 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
button.

" 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
indifference.

" 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

MUSICAL NOTE.
Professor Fiddlestix has a new string band.

('^y

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-
parting.

" 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.

With

wavy

A soulful

A man who

ne'er forgot

Why heed the

Or the

Or e'en tlio?e
vacant
lots on

CHARLES R. BARNES.

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
summon,

"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 ?"

DWIGHT SPEN'CER ANDERSON.

EXPERIENCED.

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 ?"

(i-7

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,

d
d

BETTER THAN A COBBLE-STONE.
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
said,

" 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.

Vp^

" ^ to

X. •= j3

.. M .2.
2 5 ; 3*

=^ II"
•-" s s «

'^r

"Poor Little Nina

By Walter Beverley Crane

♦>

my dear," said Mr. "Willie"
' allow me to present Lord

CONSTANCE,
Rockwood,
Heron."
" I am afraid — I really am awfully afraid
— that I am intruding here," said his lord-
ship.

"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.

THE IRONY OF FATE.

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-
sine.

"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

affected.

" Why, my lord, this is little Nina," burst out Mr.
Rockwood.

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
mirth.

Self-protection.

«< 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."

NOT A BIT ST'i'XISH.
MaRIB^ — " Does Marjorie smoke ?"
Ethyl — " Heavens, no ! She 's hopelessly old-fashioned.'

1^/

;»*-'.'

KISSING-BUGS ?
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."

JILTED.

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 ».
thing.

" 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
Conjeeled.

" 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
high.

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.

LOOKING FORWARD.
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.

O I

a B

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SuO '

5 S

3 =

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2 »i

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A PRACTICAL DEDUCTION.

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.'

BEFORE AND AFTER.

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

•o-V

> ii E
Oct,
X~E

a 7

TO KEEP COOL.
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-
matism."

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."

"HK

A^<

•>>„

B/»RT HALtV

EASY.

• Me face is me fortune. See?"

' Well, why don't yer increase yer fortune by gittin' de mumps ?"

B
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— : a.
_ ri. o

rt rt ^

t> 3 fi

— cr'""

i - •*
P2z

HERLOCK SHOLMES AGAIN

HIS GLOVE," said Herlock Sholmes. the great
detective ; " tliis giove speaks to me of a great
mystery."

" 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
personage.

" 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-
mobilist."

"Keen, keen !"
cried Swatson. " But
how in the world do
you deduce that she is
an automobilist ?"

" Smell the glove,''
commanded the great
detective.

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."

WHEN PEPPERMINT BLOSSOM RAN

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
pigeon-shoot.
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,
10.

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
directly.

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
hesitate.

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
morning."

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. "

AT THE PESSIMISTS' CLUB.
' Well, borrowing money is truly borrowing trouble.'
' Huh ! What's the trouble ?"
' Paying it back."

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173

THE AUTOMOBILISTS WERE RIGHT WITHIN THE LIMIT.

f^ „

^V",,

NOT IC E '

/VUTOMO B I l_ES
MUST Slow bowN

Inferred.

(( 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
greatness.

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?"

Collect?

(( 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."

NOTICE '
A UTOM OB 1 LES
MUST SLOW DOWN

eight/ miles

VJHDtfe. PE.f.*LTY

OF THE LAW

>^^'Hi>^IStlli^''T

^^"K,

.-.^

w~-

G&Y

4. AUTOIST — •' My dear fellow, do you really suppose we were going faster than that ?"

/7S

now HE WAS I.MERESIED.

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.

Recklessness.

? " 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
receipts.

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."

L1ASEI3ALL IN THE FAR WEST.
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
memory.

"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
countered.

" 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
herself.

" 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-

s
s

;:< § M K

'7;

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

delivery.

"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
says.

"'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-

•• ■ THAT BEAR SriiLE LIJE S SHEEP.

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" *

BUYING THE REAL MUSE.

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 (

SLICKER THAN ALL GET OUT !
"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.

Doubt.

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
bric-i-brac."

A PRACTICAL STUDENT.
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
schools."

" Do they go in swim-
ming-schools ?" asked
the smart nephew, who
was planning to enter
Yarvale.

" 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
school."

" 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."

Uncovering

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
room.

" 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-
ment-house."

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.' "

A CONFIRMED bache-
'■ 1 o r yachtsman is
what might be called a
genuine single-sticker.

THE BIGAMIST. •

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\ <->".'

CHANGE!
" There goes Smith. Used to be a lion before he got married."
'• Looks like a truck-horse now."

WITH PLE.ASURE.

Officer •' If you haven't a license you will have to accompany me."

Grinder— •• -■VU right, sir — wliat will you sing ?"

f>Sf^S0^

ANCIENT TAYLES

By LOWELL OTUS REESE

Ye Femayle Monk.

A FEMAYLE Monk once lived in
povertie & longed to be nch &
famous.

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
stringes.
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

fX'>

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,
anyway.

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.
saying,

" 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.

HAD NOT FORGOTTEN.

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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UP TO THE GROCER.

"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.

REGINALD VAN PASTTHEMARK knelt on the bal-
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
head.

" 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-
cine-man."

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
suggest."

" 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
bankrupt."

" 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 !"

MADELINE BRIDGES.

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.

ADA FOSTER ML'RRAV,

(9i

CAUSE FOR THANKSGIVING.
"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.

FRANK M. BICKNELl..

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
it?"

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

AT THE HEAD OF HIS CLASS.
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*>'*^

RESEMBLANCES.
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."

OPEN TO ARGUMENT.
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 !

ROY PARRELL GRBBNE.

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."

TIT FOR TAT.
" 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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'^3.

Mrs. Clancy and the "Cinsus

»»

BY MORRIS WADE

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
forth."

" 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 !"

BLIND HOPE.
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."

''fr

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
enjoyment.

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-
geniality.

"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

A GASTRONOMIC INTERPRETATION.
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
sense."

Experience.

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
bath.

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
worl'.

'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 —

THE THANKSGIVING TURKEY.

"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

ILLUSTBATED BT jAMES MONTGOMEKT FLAGG.

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

opened.

"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
landlord.

"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

'I KNOWED FR(1M THE LOOKS OF HIM THAT THE C.\LF WAS INSIDE OF HIM.'"

-kn

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
Passadanlcy."

" 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

FIERCE PICKEREL OF THE EAST 'WIND

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

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»-( O I— I

"^ 2. O

3 3. M

2 ^

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c;

^^"^

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
date.

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

'^5,'"

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
ward.

" 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.

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'.

SILAS X. FLOVD.

HIS PROFESSION.
Bill Throttle, he was a civil engineer.

'^U^f

ONE TOO MANY.

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-
eased.

Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,

Raze out the written troubles of the
brain?"

" 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.

^-o (

•5]

•"

"§

rt-

-a

The KELLliW BLHIND-

Second avenue."

■ Now you gimme back my orange ! I only sa d you could s jck it as tar us

WHY THANKFUL?

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.

HIS LOSS.

" 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 ?"

THE PASSING OF THE.
HORSE.

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."

WOMAN'S REASONING.

Mrs. Cobu'igger — " It
would be a great saving if
Christmas came in Janu-
ary."

Cobwigger — " How do
you figure that out .'"

Mrs. Cobwigger — " One
can buy things so much
cheaper in the stores after
the holidays."

DISCOURAGEMENT.

" 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.

SAVING GRACES.
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-
noon.

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.

"Jack."

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
errand.

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.

MORE TH.\N HIS DUE.

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."

--? ■■ *

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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."

ALBERT rjrCELOW I'AINE.

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."

Golf.

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.

MUST BE HUMILI.A.TING.

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^"

GOLD COIN IN IT.

" 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
magnate.

Heredity.

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^

A REAL SPORTSMAN.

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.

ftUNN.A IRVING.

;« 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-
cine."

EVERYTHING GOING DOWN HILL.'

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."

ON THE WRONG TRAIL.
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
to"

Papa — " No, my son ; it is an
opprobrious epithet."

•2-0

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-."

Unanswerable.

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
club."

ON DECK.

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 !"

tii

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^'^

COUSIN MARCELLUS'S WIFE'S FATHER

OR, THE REWARD OF KINDNESS

BY ED MOTT

"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 w.is 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-
boll."

•• ' 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."

Mrs.de Hasher — "Yes; I knew it would be. It was
killed by being run over by a troITey-car."

^^^

THE GRANniATICAL WAITER.
" 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

JOEL BBNTOH.

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
mood.
'•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
speech."

BMkhts — " Yea; hier
tongue keeps getting in
tlie way whenevec slie
attempts to talk."

SUPERL.VriVE .SCORN.
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."

,<v

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
overcome.

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

THE IDEA!

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.

/-EORGE WASHINGTON'S veracity
^-* 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.

MC I_\NDBURGH WILSON.

((

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
muttered,

" Fourteen ye.ars in a boarding-house and heaven at
last :"

UNF.\IR.
Snail {Jo grasshopper) — "I sha'n't race with you. You
cheat — you started before the bell rang."

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^^lAP

A Hard-luck Passenger

By ROBERT BURTON

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
Missourian.

" 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'

'^'^7

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.

FREDERICK BOYD STEVENSON.

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 "

a't

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
bleat.

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
expedition.

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.

EDWAUD MARSHALL.

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 ?"

WANTS TO KEEP IN THE LE.A.D.
" 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 — "
article."

Sarcasm.

heard Mrs. Hardup had a dream of a hat ?"
I suppose she couldn't afford the real

Correct.

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.

apple

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
week.

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
desert.

" 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 !"

2i.

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
pockets.

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
same.

" 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.

NO WONDER NO WEDDING.

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.'

q/h-y

A Testimonial.

THESE long cigars are veiy fine.
AlUiough they're only three for
five.
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
thrive.
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.

Biological.
««r\EAR!"

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

cart."

Boston IViiitf—'' Yes ; but his redolence is that of an

automobile."

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."

Inconsistent.

<« 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."

IT CAME IN HANDY.

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.'

^>i

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
o'clock."

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.

THE INTELLIGENT BUNNIES.

. /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.

^AOSf

((

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
wav."

The Hair of the Dog.

(( MEED not tell me

that like does not
cure like," asserted the
man with the apologetic
mustache.

" \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.

CHERLOCK HOLMES
was boasting of his
ability.

"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.

TOO MLXH FOR BOBBV.
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-
plained.

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."

Occupation.

« IV|ISS CALLINGALL
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-
ments.

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 !"

MC LANDDURCH WILSON.

' 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
propounding."

" 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-
vanced."

" That is too
easy," obsejved
M r . Croakdale,
carelessly thrum-
ming upon h i s
tambourine.
" 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.

THAT PROVES IT.
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
say."

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'
about.

" ' 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
wind.'

" 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
greased.

'• ' 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

-zi.

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-.

Original.
««/~"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."

DIS.^PPOINTMENT.
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'."

ITS COME TO PASS.
The walking delegate — "The sign on the dure says y'u're a
)iainter."

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.

JOHN H. KINGSBURY.

HOW HE WORKED IT.
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."

-^f

^ A

PARTICULAR ABOUT COLOR.
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
tongues.

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-
ward.

" 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

began.

"Or worms, or something. Leastways, it ain't nat-
ural."

From that day the fears thus aroused in Miss Nichols's
mind regarding the health of young Jakey Swerdloff never
slumbered.

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-
safed.

" 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
Nichols.

" 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
Nichols.

•• 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
breath.

" 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
principal.

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

'^^i>

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
escape.

" 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
giggles.

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.

GETTING SQUARE.

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 !

JOSEPH DANA MILLER.

A Barnyard Conversation.

IT IS the opinion of eminent sociologists,'

■Jt^-^^-*^ '

A FRIEND IX NEED.

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
rush."

Professional Amenities.

owj/A (the critic) — " You're a regular has been."
ViHanelle (the poet) — " You're a regular never was."

Universal.

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
populist.

" 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
the delusion that Pegasus is a jackass. ^

2-^7

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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
a'.ro."

\ 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 w.is 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.

THEODOSTA PICKERING GARRISON.

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
can."

Brittles — " Oh, I don't know. It spoils the set."

'^14^

;ij

•a

■Jl

/ -■ ' /

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-
ache.)

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."

J.^

A CALEDONIA-DAY KEIUVEXATOR.

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
concerns."

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.' "

JACK .APPLETON.

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
mistletoe.

" 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

23
o w

^^'-

^p*^5^-^

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 ?

SHE IS.
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
things?"

City editor— "Oi
course we do ; but ac-
curacy, as we understand
it, consists in making the
news fit the policy of the
paper."

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.

EUGKNH GEARY.

SQUARING THE ACCOUNT.

Josh Chuckleweight — "Well, how'd ye come out with yer
summer boarders ?"

Henry Le.in — "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."

r»

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
seat.

" ," 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

rum.

" ," 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.

Silence.

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-
plexion.

Mrs. Bob glared.

Marjorie busied herself again with the tea things.

I wished I had not come.

■• ," said Marjorie lightly.

Silence.

■' ," 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
terms.

" 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

Ana
But. ah ! Nil
Then poes.
The mus

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■33
3*5

■7.V ^

A FORTUNATE FELLOW.
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."

WHERE HE BELONGED.

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-
tered.

" Any choice of rooms .'" inquired the clerk, with a view to
comforting his woozy guest.

A GOOD CUSTOMER.

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.

OUGHT NOT TO NEED IT.
First kid — " I tell you that india-rubber iii^
Second kid — " What do you mean 1" '

First kid—" When he goes out in the rain he wear, a
mackintosh,"

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A M '

THE SIDEWALK ELEVATOR AGAIN.
'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 ?

/can't

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."

NO USE FOR HIM.
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-
house.

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
disturbance.

" That's the ticket," said Bounce-
by, ensconcing himself again be-
neath sheets, blankets and pillows,
not forgetting the cotton in his
ears.

" 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-
tion.

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
slumber.

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
walked.

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-
duct.

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

^,r't.

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
joke."

•• 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
Christmas."

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."

Equality.

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
office.!'

((

^ ^^^

Combination.

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 ?"

Coy.

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-
ample."

"Is it ?" asked the
shy maiden.

"Yes, indeed. See,
there is an arm of the
bay hugging the
shore."

"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.

.ACCOUNTED FOR

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
sick."

Freddie — " Why,
ma, didn't you make
me eat only the things
that were good for
me ?"

■^^3

An Old Salt's Observations

By Ed\varcl Marshall

HEN a girl marries his troubles
begin.

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-
cumstance.

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
home."

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."

(3(3

WHAT'S LOVE ?

WHAT'S love?
me, little maid !

Pray tell

THE QUESTfON.
Nobleman — " I know I am old, but I love you ! Will you marry me ?"
American heiress — " How much do you owe?"

CHINESE HUMOR.

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-
sel."

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
bittern."

Just then a fisherman
came by and seized the
pair of them.

Chong Hoi Hak.

Havana,
October SI si, i8gg.

A NIGHT OUT.

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

spell.
She said 'twas joy no tongue could

tell.

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.

POSTHUMOUS PIETY.

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
blind-asvlum."

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
wurd.

ANOTHER BOON.
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 <

-^f

DREAMS, IDLE DREAMS.

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

CHANNING POLLOCK.

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
instead."

'^^f'^

A MOST HUMANE MAN.
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,
ma'am."

" 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

-7/?

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
leddy.

" ' 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

^•v

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
himself."

" He took time by the firelock,"

Can't Live without It.

Have you seen our last

^(/"^

THE RULE.
" 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
Stanton.

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 gl.ad. indeed, to get the chance.
Here ! take our whiskers and our pants.

W.J. LAMPTOS.

r-?'

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.

CHARLES H.\.NSOX TOWNE.

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
them.

" 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
commander-in-chief.

" 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
retreat."

STILL GROWING.
"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."

AN INDUCEMENT.
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-
duction."

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
stop."

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.

EL'CENE GEARY.

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."

Ill-

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 !

AMOS R. WELLS.

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 !

THE VANDAL.

T'S nice to hear the New-
year chimes
Ring out their symphony oJ
rhymes ;
,: !, But every rose must have its
thorn,
And one forgets the >ear new
born
~, When Mr. Damphule toots
his horn.

NOT "SENTED."

Small boy — "Mister, 1
wants a bottle of vaseline."

A SLY COON.

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

you

want scented or

un-

scented.'"

Small boy — " No.

fetch it wid me."

A MIXED FAMILY.

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

burst

his

KNEW HER FAILING.

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."

later
wife.

"Amy, for heaven's
sake ! go to the nursery,
for your children and my
children are trying to
murder our children."

THE BEST POLICY.

Mother — "Here, Ar-
thur, is the ten cents I
promised you for being
vaccinated."

Arthur — "Just give me
a nickel, mamma. It only
hurt half as much as I
thought it would."

EQUALITY.

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
months."

It's some min
don't talk wurds ;
talk carpit-tacks.

thot
they

THE IMPROVISED MUFF.

Mr. Xith on a warm-

II.
-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
himself,

" ' 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

-27S

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-
dered.

"'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.

^^{p

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-
wagon.

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
end.

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.

EUGENE GE.\RV.

No Use.

li/E meet the extravagant woman at the bargain-
counter.

" 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."

i-ry

FIRE-Y STEEDS.

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.

YVETTE
GUILBERT.

AMZELLE

YVETTE,

your chansonette

Ees very decoUetS.

We just pretend to

comprehend

Ze naughty things

you say.

Your pretty face,

your chic and

grace.
Hold momentary

sway,
And then we blush

and bid you

" Hush I"—
After you've gone

away.

WOMAN HAD

HER WAY.

He — " I see they
are again discussing'
the question, 'What
shall we do with
our ex-presidents ?'

She-

'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."

A SUNDAY-SCHOOL DIALOGUE.

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.

A NEW FASHION.

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."

THE AGE OF
IMPRESSION-
ISM.

First artist (pat-
ronieingly) — ' 'Van
Dike is a good fel-
low, but he never
will be a finished
painter."

Second artist —
"No; all of his fv^-
ures are entirely
too life-like."

EMINENT
PLAYERS.

" There's a great
game of poker go-
ing on in that side
room."

"Who's play-
ing?"

"A man from
Pine. Blul' is pitted
,. against a Council
\ Bluffer."

TWO OF A KIND.

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.

.i^

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."

MIGHT CHANGE HIS MIND.
' 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
office."

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
them."

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
arrived.

" 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.

El'GENH GEARY.

^?"

THE PREMIER'S SMILE.
Clakf.nce— "Ah, Mademoiselle Shakalegge smiled upon me most divinely to-night, you know.
Jack Bowttown — "Quite likely. She has children of her own."

AN OCEAN VOYAGE.

" 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.

A BREAKFAST
EPISODE.

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
one."

THE FAMILY
RECORD.

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

Lawrence."

Bessie — " Why, that ain't so. You can't have more than two-
grandmas."

Luey (drawing herself up proudly) — "Yes, 'tis; we've beeti
married twice."

LITERARY TERM.
A "pen" picture.

ANOTHER CASE OF RETRIBUTION.
This is the punishment due the musical genius who on earth bad
the room next to you, and practised thirteen hours a day.

- w

THE BUSY BUMBLE-BEE AND THE GUZZLING GOSLING.

A guzzling gosling observes a busy bumble-bee

.-■'J

!fPfflti''«i,iiiifi(!i

- But the busy bumble-bee obiects. and

then returns to business again, leaving the

gosling

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."

yf^

iind tries to put him out of business.

S{\. YiT^

-gets extremely busy with the gosling-

L../''^>D

-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-
picion."

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.

^y/

Grounds for divorce

By DWIGHT spencer ANDERSON

HE blew into my law-office like
a cyclone out of the north-
west.

" 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 ?"

"Yes."

" 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
divorce."

" Mrs. Tivvers," I said gently, "you misapprehend the
law."

"Sir?"

" 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-
self.?"

" 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:
can."

" 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

H'R.\NA W. SHELDON.

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."

■^3

Little Willie — " It must be awful to be an orphan like
foa, Jimmy."

BY A BACHELOR MAID.
There are two things women are supposed to jump at —
a mouse and an offer of marriage.

Jimmy—" Oh, I don't know !"

A LENTEN PSALM.

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 SMALL BOY'S POSER.

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
convinced.

■• Well, Harry ?"

" Please, ma'am,
do women ever go
to war.'"

" N-not very of-
ten, Harry."

"And is ' army '
always neuter gen-
der.?"

"Yes — grammat-
ically considered."

" Please, ma'am,
what gender is
the s alva t ion
army?"

SINFUL.

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*
Sinsinnati."

-iS"^

Z 5
o -^ -

^^5

A HORSELESS
WAGON.

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
Jerseyman.

"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 .'"

TRULY GRE.\T.
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

IRONY.
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.

NOT EXPLICIT.

She told me yesterday she'd
write,
And now I'm filled with
gloom.
No letter 's come. Alas for
me !
She did not say to whom.

JUST THE PLACE.

Mrs. Yo II ng bride —
" Oh, Ferdy ! I believe
there's a cinder in my
eye."

Mr. Younggroom
(soothingly) — "Well, dear,
your 'Nandy will take it
right out when we get to
the next tunnel."

W i 1 1

EXPLANATORY.
Fahey — "Wake er weddin', Kelly ?"
Kelly (fain/fy) — " Chrishtenin'."

HOW IT HAPPENED.

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."

A RULE FOR THE SUBURBANITE.
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.

A CASE OF
ABSENT-
MINDEDNESS.

Mr. Montgomer)'
was making his
way across the floor
of a small ball-room
which he had just
entered.

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.

QUITE NATURAL.

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.

A HANDICAP.

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."

TRAINING.
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."

zv7

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-
tion."

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
pop-corn.

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.

WIIV DOES A HEX, ETC. ?
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-
asylum.

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
not.

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
vvriggies.

It was in the way she told it, and
cannot be transferred successfully to
type.

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 th.it 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,.
"Ugh!"

" 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
weird.

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."

A GENUINE SURPRISE.

BITTER BLASTS.

IDWINTER— br-r-r-th biting blast !
Old Boreas shows his hand at last —
A flush of spades drawn from cold
deck,

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

HER REASON.

" 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."

AN ANOMALY.
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.

JUST LIKE A MAN.
" 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.

SUFFICIENT REA-
SON.

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."

PERPLEXITY.

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
ear.'

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 ?

SUPERLATIVE ADVERSITY,
MiNliR — " Oh, dear ; if I eat the candle I'll
freeae to death. If I don't eat it I'll starve to
death,"

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 ?"

^^f

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
retinue.

" 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
ear."

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

-x^^

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
tremble.

" 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
thundered,

" 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

stopped.

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.

MR. TOOLEY TELLS A STORY.

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."

UNDOUBTEDLY.

Jasper — " What do you think
Howells meant when he spoke
about one of his characters being
a 'hen- minded'
woman?"

Jumpitppe — " Oh,
I guess he meant
that she never
thought about any-
thing except her own
set."

Woman poses —
.•and man proposes.

NO SPORT ; OR, HE MISTOOK THE WORD.

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
chewing-gum.

THE MISPLACED CHILD.
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 !

HAD TO GO BACK ON HIS "BLUFF."
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."

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WHAT LITTLE FREDDY
SAID.

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.

A BELLAMY DUEL.

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."

A GREAT HELP.
" Throw me a rope, quick ! I'm drowning !"
Pat—" All roight, I'll

HIS IDEA OF IT.

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' "

JUDGMENT FROM MR. McGARVEY.

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

A FAMILIAR FEELING.
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 ?"

RUNNING NO RISKS.

Boy {undressing) — "Ain't yer a-
goin' ter take yer clothes off afore yer
go in ?"

Boy {dressed) — "Wot! an' git
'em. stole?"

AN EVIDENCE.

Triwet — " Miss Tenspot takes a
great interest in politics."

Dicer — " Does she .'"

Tri^met — " She has had her new
shirt-waist trimmed with campaign
buttons."

A LOST BOTTLE.

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.

^9?

'S. U =i

m 3

-V n

First Come, First Served;

Or, the Woes of
By L. H.

DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Mr. Whittier J. Nippy.
Mrs. Whittier J. Nippy (his wife).
Salesgirls.

Lady-shoppers (real ladies, mind you).

ACT I.

(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

list."

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
Robbins

ACT III.
(Candy-counter).

Salesgirl — " Did you wish something, sir?"

Mr. Nippy — "Yes; a pound of" (Enter a stout

lady-shopper.)

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 ?"

ACTS IV-XI.
(Cut out by the editor.)

ACT XII.

(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.)

(Curtain.)

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."

A STINGING BLOW.

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.

A DEDUC-
TION.

"Oh.say.Mame!*
Maud exclaimed.

"What's the
matter?" asked
Mame.

"While I was
improving my mind
this morning I
found out some-
thing you never
would have be-
lieved."

" What is it ?"

" You know the
pilgrim fathers ?"

"Of course;
everybody knows
them."

" They belonged
to a bicycle club."

"How do you
know ?"

• "By t n e i r
clothes."

A DIVINITY IN DANGER.
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."

HIS IDEAL SITUATION.
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
years."

>,.^^

CPURS do not give a horse
speed ; they merely make him
use what speed is in him.

Her

A REMINDER.
■ 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
play?
It less con

learn to sing an'

JUST COMES NATURAL.

: jess comes natural.
Like de bright blue wing on de old blue-
jay.
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.

2.
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.

3.
No, I nevah took no lesson at all, at all {

It jess comes natural.
Like de fight at de finish ob a Darktown
ball,
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.

GOING TO THE OPERA

" 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'
bonnets."

AS USUAL.

" 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."

simply.

the marriage take place ?"

HIS EXISTENCE WAS A DREADFUL BORE.

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.

3o^

SEASIDE REPARTEE.

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."

DECISION HANDED DO'WN.

The loss of sleep is partly compensated by the joy of swearing at
yeur neighbor's dog.

A CRUEL WORLD.
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."

GOOD BETTING.

" 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."

A SUBSTITUTE.

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."

HIS ARTISTIC
LIFE.

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."

NATURAL
DEDUCTION.

BY STROKE of
childish enter-
prise
They grabbed the
old hen's legs
And made her eat
assorted dyes
To produce Easter-

ABSENT-MIND-
EDNESS,

Miss Gatnbrel —
"Isn't it funny?
Lucy and I are al-
ways forgetting our
ages."

Visitor — " You
ought to put them
down."

Miss Gambrel (absent-mindedly) — " Yes ; we did cut them
down several times, and probably that's the reason we are
growing so forgetful."

LENT AT DAW-
SON CITY.

" 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."

COMING IN SEASON.
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.

THEY LOOKED ALIKE TO HIM.

Hotel-clerk — ' ' What's that noise ? What did ye
throw that bureau down for ?"

Mr. Gasblower — " I — I thought it was the folding-
bed."

SANITARY.
Kite clothes-drying device for avoiding the germs and microbes.
High and dry above the city's tainted atmosphere. •

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A GOOD BRUSH.

Porter — " Brush yer coat, sir?'

DREADFUL THOUGHT.

Clara — "He has proposed
three or four times and I don't
know whether to accept him or
not."

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 ?

A TERRIBLE OVERSIGHT.
Hibernating Hank — " Wat's struck ye, Nick?"
Negligent Nick — " Sufiferin' Moses ! I fergot t" take me
cologne-bath an' violet massage dis mornin !",

JUST LIKE AN ENG-
LISHMAN.

" Who invented the saying,
' He laughs best who laughs
last '?"

" He must have been an Eng-
lishman."

BE JOYFUL.

Now life is all a merry rhyme,
For joy the day is sent ;

So have youi' fling at Christmas-
time,
On New-year's you repent.

Reai.lv and truly, your bald-
headed friend will be pleased if
you give him a hair-brush.

ASKING TOO MUCH.

She — " Now that we are engaged I
want you to kiss mother when she comes
in."

He — " Let's break the engagement."

.SUICIDAL.

Mrs. Cobwigger — " Every-
body says the charity ball was a
failure."

Mrs. Dorcas — " So it was.
The committee cut down t'ne
expenses so that there would be
something left for charity."

MR. MALAPROP.

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"

-IfiH

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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
woman.

" 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
way."

" 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
lilies
When the Easter morning
broke.
Where we lay in muddy
trenches
In a cloud of yellow
smoke ;
And we lacked the organ-
rausic
Swelling grandly on the
ear,
And the rose and ruby
windows,
And the carols sweet and
clear.

For the Maxim was the
boys in

THEIR GOOD FORTUNE.
•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."

organ
Of the tattered
blue,
And the singing of the
Mausers
All the carols that we
knew.
But we never missed the
lilies.
For the flag was over-
head—
Glorious stars upon the
azure.
Glowing stripes of white
and red.

MINNA IRVING.

Selling Ex-
penses.
• '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."

HE MADE IT SPRING.

THE THREATENED RAIN.

B KISSED her and two roses red
O'er her white cheeks their crimson
spread,
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.

THE PRIME ESSENTIAL.

" What constitutes a good joke ?"

" The right sort of fellow to tell it to."

The spring, the spring,

ALL NECESSARIES.

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'.'

A LITERAL SELL.

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-
gage-clerk."

What seems patriotism
to one man may be diagnosed
as prejudice by another.

THF- 'SQUIRE'S APRIL-FOOL JOKE

" LOTS WIFE.'

3//

AS THE BUY SKKS IT.

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.

NO PICK FOR HIM.

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
therein.

" 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.

AN EASY MATTER.
'T'HE other day two good-looking old ladies entered a
prominent bank. One of them wanted a check
cashed.

" 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.

NEITHER INTERNA!, NOR EXTERNAL,.

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
asked,

" 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
Mike.

" Shure," said Pat, "he tould me t' shnuff it oop me

nose. Edgar A. Williams, Sewaren, New Jersey.

^VHY THE BREAD CAME BACK.

/^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.

CO'W IN A BOX.

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
replied,

" Oh, pretty well, except that I have a cow in my box."

Hugh Mossman, Onslow, Iowa.

WHO HE WAS.

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
you."

" Well, I am the little man that comes in every morn-
ing to light me pipe." George R. Gard, Ord, Nebraska.

AN IMPOSSIBILITY.

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.
A MISTAKE THAT CURED.

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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(»< IZI

'Kiar Biffs Epicurean Bear

A Tale that Dnmfounded ez>en the Pochiick Chronicler

By Ed Mott

3«^

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
BifT.

" 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
'em.

" 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-
erei..

" 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.

Hopeless,

(( 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."

3^i-

A SUPERFLUOUS ANEC-
DOTE.
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.

CONTRARIETIES.

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 ?'

ACCEPTED APOLOGIES.

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.' "

A NEW WOMAN.

lVa£^ge—" I hear Miss Bagley is quite
the new woman. Can you tell me if it is
so?"

Mrs. Wagge — " So ? Of course it is.
Why, her last paper at the club was about
'The advantages of sleeping in pajamas.'"

UP TO THE AVERAGE.

" 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."

VERY REGULAR.

" 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."

QUALIFIED.

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

H">

-^'7

HELD IN RESERVE.
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."

ACCIDENTAL BRAVERY ; OR, PROFESSOR TIMID'S FIRST, LAST AND ONLY LION.

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HIS THEORY.

" 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."

DOLEFUL OUTLOOK.

" Why does the husband of the
two-headed woman wear such a
doleful look ?" asked the living
skeleton.

" 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.

II.

THE RESULT ACCOM-
PLISHED.

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."

IV.

BLESSING HER
STARS.

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."

JUSTIFIABLE WRATH.
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
mamma.

"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
matter.

Chimmie-

M.\GG1E —

THE DIFFERENCE.

" 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.

HI.
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.

TV.
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."

VI.
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).

VII.

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
treason.

& 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
Foxe.

"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 :

^^3

' 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-
bye."

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.

EUGENE GEARY.

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.

A DAGO DITTY

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
away,

By da Sunday supplement.

BASE-BAWL.

•' After all, the great Amer-
ican game is often played on
the European plan."

" How's that ?"

" All talk and no fight."

KNEW WHAT HE
WANTED.

..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."

"THE SONG OF THE SHIRT."
(A new adaptation.')

A SCOFFER AT THE SEANCE.
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 !"

CASABIAXCA (NEW JOURNALISM).
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.

USEFUL TO THE COMPREHENSIVE.
"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

?^i,

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-
taloons.

"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-
dren."

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,

" .MAN-SUFFRAGISTS DISCOURAGED.

" 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
dining-room.

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.

M.\RTHA YOUNG.

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-

3^7

A LEGAL MIND.

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.)

GEORGE A. BECKENBACGH.

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."

Ribald.

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

III

HIRAM HUSK GIVES

TRADIN6r>STAMP5

<;p ASK FOR THEM

" 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-
swer.

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
buffalo."

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 ?"
did

we
you

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
proven.

WHY SHE REJECTED HIM.

Frayed Fagin — " Oh, yes ; I loved a girl once, but she give me de shake,
stone."

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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S2S

Wilfred's Letters from the Country

By F. P. Pitzer

EER TEETCHER :

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
yet.

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
parade."

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,

Wilfred.

P. S. Excuse ritin as Paw never wos edchewkated

mutch.

DEER TEETCHER :

" 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
pensils.

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
Injuns.

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,

Wilfred.

P. S. If thare is any uncouth langwidge in this letter
excuse Paw as he never does know his plase.

III.

DEER TEETCHER :

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,

Wilfred.

P. S. I am glad that skool is going to open up soon
agen.

IV.

DEER TEETCHER :

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
mallet.

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.

Wasted,

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.)

REYNALE SMITH PICKERI.NG.

Country Correspondence.

m'cordsville.
/^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.

OUR BASE-BALL MANAGER.

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.

NEEDFUL PREPARATIONS.

" 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

'^^E^^/!
M

li^fii/

SKYE SCRAPER

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."

WHAT HE REALLY WAS AFTER.
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."

'?y

c a

HEAVY OCEAN SWELLS.

A DIPLOMAT.

" 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."

OUT OF THE FRYING PAN INTO THE FIRE.

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.

PALPABLE CONTRADICTIONS.

Triiaiet — " Ours is a very contradictory
language."

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."

JUDGMENT FROM MR. McGARVEY.

Fray silver, is it } Shure. me b'y, yez '11
find it loike fray lunch whin yez hovn't th'
proice av a drink.

THE BUSINESS OUTLOOK.

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."

THERE ARE OTHERS.

" I don't like such expressions as ' the glad hand,' ' the
marble heart', and the like," said Mrs. -Cawker to her
husband.

" 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.

-"J

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3 D-

If JJ

- =• PI

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y o^

o -
— a

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P'l

Olf^

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-
ward.

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.

JOEL BENTON.

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

'37

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
accusation.

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
table."

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-
quences.

" 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,
though."

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
Lucinda.

" Hum," mused Mr. Duzzit. " It must be a funny
recipe."

" 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
definitions.

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
occurred.

" And, dear, you know then the two-cent morning
paper would only cost us a cent."

Then they began to pack the dishware.

ON THE SHELF.

^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?

THE NEW STYLE.

"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."

A SMALL ETERNITY.

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
Hieeting."

THE DANGERS OF TRAVEL.

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 ?"

A DEEP MYSTERY.

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."

HEAVY SACRIFICE.

"What sacrifice are you making for Lent
this year.'" asked Mrs. Hampack of Mrs.
Livewayte.

'■ 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."

little.'

NOT MUCH.
" So you do think a little of
Miss Daisy ?"
'Oh, yes, Mr. Softly; very

CONCLUSIONS TO DRAW.
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.

?3f

'. fJu

A TIMELY WORK.

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."

't^^^

HIS LIFE IN HIS HANDS.
Casey — " Run fer yure loife, Clancy !"
Clancy — " What fer ? Oi hov it wid me."

PAPA'S OPINION.

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-
my."

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 !"

ON AN IOWA GRAVESTONE.

Here lies the body of Nicholas Biddle,

Whose natural long life was cut off in the middle.

A WISE SELECTION.
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."

ESTABLISHING A PRECE-
DENT.

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.

THE SAME 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
same."

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).

II.

Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby

announce the engagement of their daughter

Vivian Fay

Mr. Richard L. Pearson

February i, 1900.

III.
Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby beg to
announce the termination of the engagement of
their daughter, Vivian Fay, to Mr. Richard L.
Pearson.
April 16, 1900.

IV.

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
News.)

Reginald Duprez Fortescue

Vivian Fay Enderby

Married

Tuesday, July twenty-eighth

Chicago, Illinoi?

1900

At Home

after September i 1900

Hotel Metropole

Chicago, 111.

VI.

Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby

request your presence

at the divorce of their daughter

Vivian Fay

from

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

1902

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.]

VII.

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"

3^.

A NEEDED INVENTION.

I wish the electric scientists
Would go just one step higher

And fix it so the message-boys
Could be dispatched by wire.

FORCE OF IMAGI-
NATION.

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."

> JUDGMENT FROM MR,
McGARVEY.

Love —ah, bejakers ! that's
th' only thing thot makes hot
wither in th' winter.

THE UNDERTAKER'S
COMPLAINT.

" 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."

HEROISM REWARDED.
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'." ?

A DISTINCTIOiSr.

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?"

HIS LITTLE GAME.

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
long
To see ray Margaret pass.

For I hold a hand that is fair to see.

And a flash of hope through my being
darts

That she'll turn it down, and leave it to me
For a march by making it hearts.

KNEW HIS BUSINESS.

" Who is that man who is explaining
ail about the correct use of the bicycle?"

" Oh, he's one of our inost prominent
experts."

" 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.

A NEW CURE.

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."

SHALLOW W.\TER.

Smith — " Watch, Jones

II.
-and I'll show-

HE STILL HAS
HOPE.

* ■ 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.

NOT RIGHT.

" 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."

MIXED.

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."

CASUALS.

A man with a history — The
book-agent.

Contemplating matrimony —
The guest at the wedding.

IV.
clean dive !"

He Fixed It

'^^3

/^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 !"
Pandemoni-
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.

W. D. NESBIT.

Its Effect.

« I SUPPOSE
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."

SWIFT.
Pardon me ; I guess you didn't understand that we sell

but I thought you knew that ' thirty

Ot linger — '

duelist."

Henriques-
Ottinger — '

chauffeur."

Chauffeur versus Duelist.

"There goes Count Nodough, the famous

— " Did he ever kill any one ?"

" Not until recently, when he became a

■y

-z S

~3(l<^'

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
said.

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
brows.

" 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-
falness.

" 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
slowly.

" 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
talking.

" 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.

■Bcp

D AS HE LIVED.

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.

A RIO-GRANDE RUSE.

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 ?"

FRESH SCAN-
DAL.

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."

DECISIONS
HANDED DOWN.

The impulsive man
would make money*
by walking backward.

The man who starts
out to woo fortune
finds few leap-years.

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.
Colonel Kentuck {tiot knowing there had been a Jlood in
the vicinity) — " Who'd think there wuz derned fools thet squander
money on watuh !"

THE LYING DENTIST.

Henrique — " I believe Dr. Quicklime is the champion liar
of Dewittville. The stories he tells are something astonish-
ing."

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

5 ^ J,

> S-

c s

p Z ■s

^ o

2 p.

I— a.

.__- jj ^

OJ O w -

£ Jr =

p on -

AN APRIL-FOOL IDYL.

EXPECTATION.

SHE rode within the trolley,
No one beside her sat,
When in the door came ChoUy;
Was anything more pat ?

REALIZATION.

He paused beside her, smiling;

He surely would sit down.
She looked at him beguiling —

'Twas full a mile to town.

DESPERATION.
Alas ! he passed beyond her

The full length of the car;
Then knew she he was fonder

Of that mean thing, Lou Barr.

TO Bli SURE!

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.?"

TOO FAR.

He — " They have

5(/?

VV^..

carried
these musicals so far that it is
positive torture to hsten to
them."

5A^— " Yes; there are some people who believe they are a
whole orchestra, simply because they have a drum in their ear."

LOOKING FORWARD.
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."

AT THE BANK.

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-
ing."

THE EASTER

VARIETY.

The speckled hen stands on one

leg.

She's thinking lots and lots.

She wonders if she laid the egg

That's full of polka-dots.

NEARLY SHORN.

" 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."

FEMININE SUPERSTI-
TION.

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

A DIFFICULT QUESTION.
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
Clarence
retained all th'e

BirtwJiistle-

Deivsyiap — '

buv mv wife a

PARTIALLY KETUKXED.
ou say she only partially returned your affection ?"

— " Yes ; and that's what I'm kicking about. She returned all the love-letters, but
jewelry."

NO CASH LEFT. ,
— •' Going to have a yacht this year ?"
' Xo ; I sha'n't have the price. I have had to
yachti ng-cost u me.' '

MR MORBID.

\VISH I were a coroner.
For one of my delights
Would be like him to gaze
upon
Such lovely horrid sights

FROM JUDGE'S
DICTIONARY.

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.

fr-

A SOL.\R EXPOSE
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 !

3i-

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
says.

" 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-
cellus.

"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
says,

'• ' 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-
cellus,

" ' 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
cellus.

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
keep."

'• 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 ;
please.'

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."

5j'3-

■■ 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
did."

•' 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
me."

" 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
saying,

•• 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-
sible."

-\!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 !

C^ROLli'S WELLS.

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
him."

" Maybe he jumped into the trench."

A COLD WAVE.

A PLANTATION LULLABY.

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.

//'

:SQ\

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'!'"',' • *

TWO GREAT CLASSES.

" 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.

NOT WALTZERS.

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."

ETIOUETTE.
Mo.NTALBO Dunn {insanely Jialous) — " Look, Horace, look !

She

PROGRESSION.

Exhibition fire-drill in the elephant quarters,
playing the hose.

Bolivar

encourages his advances. Let me get at him and his heart's blood shall
flow."

Horace Murphy {restraining him) — "Nay, nay, Montalbo !
This is not the moment for blood-spilling. Wait until the lady retires."

^y?

. AT THE MINSTRELS.

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.

AN OLD SALT'S OBSERVATIONS.

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
yesterday."

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'
play.

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
folks.

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 ?

EDWARD MARSHALU

IF WE could only deceive others as easily as we deceive
ourselves, what great reputations we would have !

EQUAL TO THE OCCASION.

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."

SHE THOUGHT SO TOO.

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-
ceptions."

" 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."

DEFINITION.

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.

A TERRIBLE BLUNDER.
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

>J7

THE SONNET OF SPRING

IN ANY CURRENT MAGAZINE.

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

spring.

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.

PAT'S SOLILOQUY.
" 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."

OUT OF THE ORDINARY.

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."

TOUGH.
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.

PRIDE.

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."

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2:

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.

163

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-
spired.

■■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
feet.

" 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
accomplished.

•' 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
simply.

" 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-
ically.

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
voice.

" 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
head.

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
greedily

" 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
ears.

ILLUSTRATED NEWS NOTE.
Mr. Jones, of the riding-club, entered and rode his horse " Rinky Dink" in the BilgevMIe
Derby, but he was unplaced.

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Only One

To Greet Him.

CAPTAIN MICHAEL
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

'TIS SYNONYMOUS.
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
men."

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."

LUGUBRIOUS.
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.

HIS PHILOSOPHY.
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."

A CHILD'S DEFINITION.

•\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."

HER MEDICAL ADVICE.
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.

OUT OF THE COLD.

Judge — " You have told an hon-
est, straightforward story. I will there-
fore be good and give you ninety
days."

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."

A DIFFERENT FEELING.

Miss Timberii'heels — "How were
you impressed by Mr. Noodles?"

Miss Hungerford — " I wasn't
impressed. I was oppressed."

QUITE RIGHT.
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.

ANALOGY.

'Twas the first time
Willie had seen any
one with the measles.
" My !" he exclaimed,
"Tommy's got domi-
no-skin all over his
face."

A NOVEL WAY.

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
ncses?"

HARDER TO BEAR THAN A SNOW-STORM.

Weary Walker {sttahng a ride) — " I hates ter walk, 'specially in dis snow, but I can't stand dis,
thet's certain !"

AN ABSTRUSE SCROLL.

ER face is like an unrolled scroll,
Say those who've read it and are
versed,
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.

NICE TO TEACH.

Madge — " I wonder why Dolly
gets taken out skating so much ?"

Marjorie — " It's because she
doesn't know how to skate."

THE ORIGINAL RIVER AND

HARBOR BILL.

Its passage was stopped by the president.

KINDRED SOLICITUDE.
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 !"

AFTER THE HOLIDAYS.
" 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."

HIS CRITICISM.

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."

NO QUESTION.

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."

WHAT HE'D HAVE.
Chimmy — " How much fer d.it 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."

THE BOTANIST'S MISTAKE.

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.

EUGENE GEARY.

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-
ment."

A SOLDIER'S FATE.

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
agitated.

" Cheer up," he said,
that fate, and there are

IT MADE A DIFFERENCE.
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

AT THE SCHOOL-TEACHERS' PICNIC.
Small boy (sitting calmly down to await developments) —

■' Say
an'

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
Cubans."

" Thank heaven !" cried the man in blue
fervently. " I'll bet he takes no more dying
messages."

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
yourself."

"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
other.

" Well, what do you think of that ?" said the former.

" Queer one," replied the latter, with a shrug of his
shoulders.

"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 w.is 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
cried,

"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.

LIFE.

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.

KEEPING THE DAY.

■■ 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."

THE LIMIT.

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.

NONE OF HIS BUSINESS.
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."

A TRICK THAT FAILED.

Bather — " Catch on to the dude on the springing-board.
See me haze him."

IV.

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 ?"

£ >

y??

His Felicity.

UPON my hat throughout the
night
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

found.
And up among the branches

thick
The darkey who'd corral the

chick.

And so I swing my club in glee,
And feel I earn my sala-ree,
That keeps the gay and festive

pot
A-boilin' all the time red-hot.

And that is why I gayly dance
And somersault, cart-wheel and

prance
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
hay-fever."

What Mary Meant.

MARY STUART had just blown up the castle.
K.,,1 I" ..!,„ .1

she murmured.

Too
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

nickel."

((

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."

dere

HIS INTERPRETATION.

Can't you read that sign, you little "

•'I kin read de sign all right, but dat sign's wrong. Dere's good fisl.in'

. 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
panted.

"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

vfs-.v//^c_

STOCK QUOTATION.
Eee(f) firm.

GETTING UN IN THE WORLD.

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.

CHARLES \V. STEVENSON.

/■ y

TRAGEDY OF A HAT.
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 :

I.
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.

^^-„^^i

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
more."

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.

PROFESSIONAL CURIOSITY.

The duck [as the doctor passes) — '-Quack, quack,
quack !"

The m.d. {to himself) — " I wonder if that bu\l has
anv inside information ?"

3si

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-
sibility.

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-
ment.

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-
tache.

" 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
submissively.

" Mr. Brinton disapproved. What of Mr. Leander
Laird Wilson ?" she went on as if reading from a list of
applicants.

" 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
coaxed.

" 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

A BETTER IDEA.

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.
pTUTHLE.SS MEXOC.A.SSUS, t h e
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-
craft.

"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.

lest
He

IN THE WORK-BASKET.
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-
thin'-shop.

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
hearts."

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.

EDWARD MARSHALL.

Felt Herself Buncoed.

J/rs. Co h u> ! gg e r —
" Why won't you go ta
that French restaurant

IX OUR MODERN FLATS.

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^

$yy

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 over in a
shallow and muddy stream with an inch of green scum on it.
Again he had playfully twisted his long neck around and
fastened his yellow teeth in the calf of my leg until I had
roared with jiain ; and once he had suddenly kicked up
his hinder heels and pitched me over his head into some
blackberry bushes, to the unfeigned delight of a wagon-
load of young people on their way to a county fair.

Thus it was that I was glad to turn an abrupt bend
in the road and find myself before a squatty little log
cabin with a lean-to five-by-six feet in size. Several old
hens and a rooster, who had shed their feathers until they
were in a d6collet6 state requiring the attention of Anthony
Comstock, were wallowing in dusty holes in a grassless
dooryard, whde the prolilic mother of nine spotted pups
of mongrel ancestry was stretched out with her numerous
progeny around her under some alinost leafless gooseberry
bushes. Other dogs of varying ages, breeds, and size
were lying in the yard, and on a rickety little porch above
the one door of the cabin. A long and attenuated man
was lying flat on his back under a mulberry-tree, with a
ragged straw hat over his lace and his hands clasped
under the back of his head. The soles of his bare feet
suggested a pair of infantile smoked hams, and he ap-
peared to be serenely indifferent to the hens, in undress,
pecking away at something between his toes. Reproach-
ing myself for disturbing so much rural contentment, I
gave utterance to a mild,
"Hello !"

The drowsy dogs lifted their heads and three or four
of them yawped languidly, while the lean rooster attempted
a feeble crow, but the effort was too much for him, and
he fell over on his back with his claws in the air. The
man pushed the hat from his sallow face, raised himself
to his sharp elbows, and asked,

" What's wantin' ?"

This Was the manner of my introduction to the man
who " fit with Gin'ral Grant." After "reckoning" thai
he could " feed and sleep me," he put up my " boss crit-
ter" in a stable in danger of dissolution at any moment,
and graciously took up the role of the agreeable host.
This was 'not, however, until he had sought to trace my
genealogy back to a decade or two within the time of the
landing of the Pilgrims, and he had also ascertained w'hat
I " follered for a livin'," and how much I got for it. He
also informed himself as to whether I was married or
single, the number and sex of my children and their ages,
my own age, and the general history of my wife, combined
with exhaustive inquiry in regard to my business in " them
parts." Accepting an invitation to be seated on a strip of
rag carpet under the mulberry-tree, my host threw himself
at full length by my side, and was soon giving me in glow-
ing terms the account of his war record and of the great
prosperity that was his " before the war."

" If you're a mind to run your hand down my back
under my shirt and feel under my left arm, you'll ieel
there three buckshot I got peppered into me when I was
doin' my duty at Vicksburg under Gin'ral 'Ljs Grant,"
he said.

Thanking him for the privilege of feeling the buckshot
but declining it, I said,

" So you were on the field with General Grant himself,
were you .''"

" Wa-al, I reckon ! You see that mark on my right leg
thar, jess below the knee ? Wa-al, that's another little mo-
mentum of the time when I fit with Gin'ral Grant. Got that
at Vicksburg, too. Grant he see the Johnny a-makin' for me
with his sword raised to cut me down, an' if the gin'ral
hadn't rushed up an' warded off the blow with his own
sword, I reckon my jug'lar vein would of been cut through,
an' then it would of been kingdom come with me. You
notice that I walk with a limp, don't you .'"

" I did notice it."

" That's because of a bullet I got in my knee when
1 fit with Grant at Chattanoogy. I tell ye, we did some
mighty purty work at that little scrimmage — mighty,
mighty purty work. It was thar I knocked a rifle
out o' the hands o' one o' the inimy who had it p'inted
straight at the gin'ral's heart. He made me a captain
for that, but one day he called me into his tent, an' he
says, says he, "

" ' Lookee here, Lem Bagg, some one is got to rig up
as a spy an' work his way through the lines o' the inimy
an' git full information as to how they are fixed an' all

about em an' thar's just one man I Uin trust with the
job, an' his name is Lem Bagg. If any man in the whole
army kin do it you kin,' says he. • You willin' to accept o'
tlie job ?' Well, I didn't hanker for the job, for you know
what a spy gits when he £;its caught in the bizness. They
plug him full o' shot an' feed him to the buzzards, which
ain't none too dern pleasant, but I was ready to do any-
thing foi- nw country, so I says to the gin'ral, says I,

" ' 'Lys, I'm your huckleberry.' You see, we'd got so
kind o' intermut by this time that he called me Lem an' I
called him 'Lys. Well, 'Lys he clapped me on the back
an' he says, says he,

" • Bully for you, Lem Bagg ! I knowed 1 could trust
you, an' if I'm ever President of these United States, as
I'm apt to be sometime, all you'll have to do will be to
give me the wink if you want to be in my cabbynet.' But
I never hankered none for public life, so I never held the
gin'ral to his word when he got to be President. Nancy,
my wife, her that's in thar fryin' bacon an' hom'ny for
your supper, she ruther tuk to the idee o' splurgin' 'round
Washington as a cabbynet officer's wife, but I reasoned
with her an' made her see how we'd be out of our speer.
Then, it was well along in the spring o' the year an' we'd
about twenty hens a-comin' off their nests with little chicks,
so we couldn't leave home very well, even to see the
gm'ral swore into office, so I writ him 'that he'd better
app'int some one in my place. You notice that a piece o'
my right ear is missin', don't you ?"

" 1 see that it is."

" A shot from one o' the inimy done that at Appomat-
to.x, an' I remember how the gin'ral said at the time,
' That was a mighty close call, Lem,' an' he whipt out his
hankercher for me to stanch the blood on, an' the ne.xt
minnit me an' him cut down seventeen o' the inimy that
come at us full with their bay 'nets p'inted right at us. I
tell \ou, I never see the gin'ral fight as he did that day.
He jist set his teeth, whipt off his coat, pushed up his
sleeves, an' ' laid on, MacDulT,' as it says in the Bible !
We was both reekin' with gore when we got through, an'
there was a bay'net stickin'four inches into my back. Tiie
gin'ral puHed it out, an' I reckomember how he rigged
me about bein' wounded in the back. He was the jokiest
man you ever see on a battle-field. The thicker the shot
the more he'd joke. I reckon you've heerd how his horse
was shot from under him at Belmont, Missoury ?"

" 1 think that I have read about it."

" Wa-al, now you kin rest your gaze on the very identical
man that lept from his own boss an' said, ' Here, gin'ral,
take my nag,' when that happened. If I hadn't kind o'
leaned over an' jerked him out o' the saddle he'd been
caught under his dead hoss. He straddled my boss, an' in
half a minnit was pepperin' away at the inimy as cool as
a cowcumber, an' me foUerin' suit. I'd hate to say how
many pore chaps we made bite the dust that day. It was
thar to the battle o' Belmont that I got eight ribs stove in
on my left side. If you keer to see 'em I'll slip off my
shirt an' show you the marks. You don't want to trouble
me ? No trouble, but if you don't keer to see 'em I'll
keep on my shirt. But I alius offer to show 'em, so that
folks will know I ain't lyin'. Anybody I natchely t/^^spise
it's a liar. I don't wonder the good Lawd laid Annynias

an' Sapphir)- out dead for lyin' the way they did. I've riz
a fam'ly o' si.xteen children, an' thar ain't a liar in the hull
bunch, no matter what thar other failln's may be. Some
of 'em may take after thar maw in stretchin' the truth a
leetle mite sometimes, but when it comes to out an' out
lyin', they ain't in it. Too much o' their pap in 'em lor that.
I forgot to tell ye that when I fit with Gin'ral Grant at
Chattanoogy he says to me one day, sa\s lie "- •

Nancy, or " maw," the lady whose veracity was not
wholly unimpeachable, appeared in the open doorway of
the cabin at this moment, and her voice cut the air like a
blade when she said, •

•' Lem Bagg, you lope out to the hen-house an' see it
you caint find me no aig to cl'ar the coffee with ! Stir
your stumps now right forthwith an' faster !"

Obeying this command, the shot-filled, rib-broken and
battle-scarred veteran of so many battle-fields on which he
had " fit with Gin'ral Grant," proceetled to " lope " in the
direction of the hen-house in pursuit of the desired "aig,"
while I strolled over to the open doorway of the rustic re-
treat, with a view to asking for a pan and- some soap and
water with which to remove some of the dust of my journey
before we sat down to supper. Evicting three dogs with
the toe of her shoe, and dragging a fat pup from the only
chair in the room, Nancy bade me "set down" lor a few
minutes, when she would be ready to "dish up." While
waiting for the return of Lem I engaged in conversation
with the lady who would have enjoyed "splurging" in
Washington as the wife of a " cabbynet " officer.

" Your husband had some rather e.\citing experiences
in the war, I believe," I said by way of opening a con-
versation. Nancy turned toward me with a slice ot
sizzling bacon dripping hot fat on a fork, and said,

" Him ? Lem Bagg in the war ? Now what has he
been givin' you ? That man was drafted an' he put a
mortgage on this place to hire a substitoot with, an' that
mortgage ain't ever been lifted to this day. Much as ever
we \C\x\ do to keep up the int'rust. Him in the war ? Lem
Bagg ? He lay in the woods three months, he was that
skeered o' bein' dratted a second time ! Lem Bagg in
the war ? Not tnuch, he 'o/aii't .'"

A shadow fell athwart the bare and dirty floor. It had
been cast by Lem, who stood in the open doorway with
an egg in his hand. He had heard his disloyal partner's
last remark. A sickly grin oversprsud his pea-green vis-
age, and he said, in a somewhat deprecating tone,

" l\Iaw she does a-pick a feller up so. Say, mjster,
would you like to go out to the stable an' see as purty a
litter o' seven water spanyells as ever you laid eyes on ?
Aint got their eyes open yet, but they show their breedin'
all the same. You kin yell us in to supper when it's
ready, Nance."

We were still within hearing when Nance said de-
risively,

" Hitn in the war ! If tiiere was a prize offered for
the biggest liar that ever stood on two laigs I reckon Lem
Bagg would sure get it !"

The Mean Thing !

Flossie — " Jack is a man after my own heart."
Marie (sweetly) — " You 're sure it's not your own
money that he is after ?"

3S-;

^^"

CLEVER BEAR.

Bear — "Heavens. Mr. President, don't shoot!
thirty miles to liear you speak."

I've come

Nearing the End.

jLl ETHUSEL.AH was in his nine hundred and sixty-
eighth year. It was a long, dry summer, too, and
Abelgad the Beehemite, and Obadad the Dinnymite, were
frettmg over the drought.

" Yes," quavered Methuselah, fidgeting with his stout
cane, " it is pretty warm ; but I " —

Here Abelgad and Obadad winked
knowingly at each other.

" But I," Methuselah continued, ■' can't
say that I recollect any year that ever has
given us such a long, dr\' spell."

Then Obadad and Abelgad walked
softly away, saying one to another that the
old man was showing his first signs ot
breaking down.

Her Relations.

1a/E note that the handsome young woman
wears many military buttons, badges,
and other memenio^s.

■' Are you the daughter of the regi-
ment ?" we ask.

•' Oh, no, sir," responds the gentle thing;
" hut I have promised to be a sister to all
the officers."

At this juncture we might have made
a witty remark about a call to arms and
the penalty for disregarding it, but because
of her blushes we refrained.

Sonnet.

"THREE hours last night I walked the floor with pet,
■ And thrice on yon grim n)cker ran my toe.

Now, had I, purposeful, by day tried so
To strike that selfsame point, to win a bet,
The goodness knows I'd not have hit it yet !
How strange it is the cruel hammer's blow
Lands on my thumb with swift-ensuing woe
And skips the nail on which my aim was set !
There is no cause of cussing in this world
So cussed as the cussedness of things

Which seem inanimate but aren't a bit.
There's not one wild anathema I've hurled
Full at them, driven to fury by their stings,
But they have thrilled with fiendish joy at it.

Modern Literary Business.

jlVES, gentlemen," says the first promoter; "I
will come in on the deal with you and help
you to promote the combination on one condition."

" And that is ?" asked the others.

" That I have the privilege of writing the mag-
azine expose of our dealings wMth the public."

After forcing him to agree that all the rest shall
have time to publish their articles on " How to suc-
ceed " before he writes his article, the papers are
signed.

On Common Ground.

/^XCE upon a time the barefaced truth met the bald lie.
" Hello !" said the barefaced truth. " I am glad to
meet you. What is your line of work ? '

•• I am a hair-restorer advertisement," said the other.

" Shake !" responded the first. " I am a mustache-
grower."

I JCmevvThAT
woijLC CrET

THE end-seat hog retires from view with sum-
mer days so fleet.
Another porcine friend has come — the pigskin
now we greet.

President — " A thousand pardons ! Dee-lighted to speak a few words.
Would rather talk than shoot, I assure you."

«^ W I

n o

I-

•<

era ^

S; n. 3

cr -; X
n o o

?§. '^

3 " a

O
G

A Mermaid and a Moral

By La louche Hancock

F YOU don't believe in mermaids at the present time.
But think that ihey are fancies of old Homeric

rhyme,
Read this little story, and I'm sure you will not fail
To honestly acknowledge that thereby hangs a tale !

Once upon a time, before the Coney Island
season had opened, a young man — we will
call him Harold, because it is a nice, old-
fashioned name — was searching along the
sands for something he had lost. He peered
all around, but it was so dark he could hardly
A H distinguish anything at all. When he came
\j H to the brick breakwater with the rocks in
' ^1 front, he saw a lady. Only her head was vis-
ible. The rest of her body was hidden. Har-
old leaned over the breakwater and said
quietly,

" I beg your pardon ! You don't happen to have seen
a pocket-book lying around, have you ? I lost mine some-
where hereabouts, and I don't quite know how I am going
to get back to New York unless I find it."
The lady turned her head.

" No ! I haven't seen it," she answered with a smde.
She was good-looking, and her hair was hanging down
her back. Harold had an eye for beauty. He continued
the conversation.

" Been bathing ?" he asked.
•' X-o ! At least not more than usual."
•' Rather cold this time of year, isn't it ?" he pursued.
" I don't think so. I'm accustomed to it."
Must be a cold-bath fiend, thought he to himself.
He was too polite to say so. There was a pause. Then
the lady said quietly,

" \Vhat are you going to do ?"
" Blessed if I know !" answered Harold.
'• I wish I could help you."
*• You're very good."

" I'm sorry I can't. I have to wait here till the tide
comes in and then go home."

" Oh, indeed !" said Harold, thinking there was an ex-
planation due here. " And, if I may be so rude, why
have you to wait so long ? Ha.yej'ou lost anything ?"
The lady laughed.
" No ; but I can't move."

•' Can I be of any help to you ? Are you hurt ?"
" No, thanks ! It's my own stupidity. I'm quite com-
fortable and have a lot of patience."
Harold was getting bewildered.
" You're a conundrum," said he with a grin.
" I suppose .1 am," she replied. " I imagine you peo-
ple would think me so."

•• But, seriously, you'll catch your death of cold sitting
there."

" Oh, nonsense !" said the lady. " You don't under-
stand. Haven't you got eyes ?"

There w.is a swish, and Harold started back in sur-
prise. There wasn't the least doubt about it. He was
talking to a mermaid !

" Now, do you know any better ?"

Harold gasped.

" Oh, I see ! but it was rather unexpected, you must
admit. I've never seen one of your kind before."

"That's not very politely put. Well, what do you
think of the — shall we say — novelty ?"

" I'm rather interested. May I ask "

" Are you going to interview me ?"

" You'd make rather a good story."

" Maybe I would, but nobody would believe you."

" Oh, I don't know," he mused. " It's about the tim<»
for sea-serpents !"

"Well, I call that downright rude."

" I beg your pardon," spluttered Harold.

" You've every reason to." Then, after a pause, "Why
not sit down and talk quietly ? I've got to wait ; so have
you. Let's employ the time in conversation."

Harold climbed over the wall on to the rocks.

" Now sit down there. Don't come any nearer. You'll
find me rather wet. I suppose you 're surprised to see me ?"

" Rather !"

" Not afraid ?"

" Never been afraid of a woman in my life !"

" You're deliciously blunt !"

"But," began Harold, finding he had met his equal in
repartee, " how is it you can talk ?"

" Well, you see I'm only half fish."

" Ye-es ! I noticed that."

" I can talk and swim, but I can't walk. That's why
I'm in this predicament."

" But how did you get here ?"

" Stupidity ! I came a little too far in, and, as the tide
wasn't particularly strong going out, I found myself
stranded on these rocks."

•' What will your — er — family think r"

" 1 don't imagine they'll miss me. There are a good
many more at home like me."

She laughed.

" You seem to be well educated and up to date."

" Why not ? We have an immense circulating library
and heaps of music."

•> Indeed ?"

" Yes ; so many ships with good libraries are wrecked
during the year. The books come to us, of course. As
for music, well, you knov there's a good deal of playing
and singing on board shij). We get all the flotsanv and
jetsam iii ease of accident. Oh, yes ! we're quite up to
date, I can assure you."

" Do you sing ?"

" Like a siren !"

The ^-comparison brought back memories. He was ■
going46 ask her to sing, but — she anticipated him.

■' I'll sing you something of my own composition, if you
lil<e."

He was doubtful, but noblesse oblige ! He smiled
consent.

Quietly she began :

" A mermaid sat ojmbiiig her beautiful hair,

Which natur'ly hung down her back.
If any one saw her slie didn't much care.

For the night was decidedly black !
And there wasn't much chance of meeting a soul

In the place, where she chanced to be,
Which was somewhere betwixt the north and south pole

In the midst <if the bounding sea !
As she combed her hair and looked in the glass,

She s.Tng in a voice low and sweet,
* Oh ! there isn't a doubt I'm a comely lass,

Although I've a tail for my feet !
I needn't wear fashionable dresses and gems,

Or bother with powder or paint.
I haven't to worry with stitches and hems,

I've never been off in a faint !
Don't you think the women on your little earth

Would like to change places with me?
Consider a minute — what isn't it worth

To be so delightfully free ?' "

Her voice seemed to die away in the plashing of the
waves.

" You are accomplished," said Harold presently.

"Yes — quite domesticated."

'• Who's your father ? "

The mermaid laughed.

"Neptune, I suppose."

" He must have a lot of children !"

" Not more than Solomon !'

" You 're humorous. "

" Yes ; we generally manage to get your comic papers.
In fact, we seem to supply them with a good many ideas
now and then."

Harold was nonplused.

" How do you live ?" asked he.

"We exist. There isn't much living about it."

" Perennial youth ?"

" Naturally — that is, unnaturally, according to your
views."

" Ever get tired of it ?"

" It's somewhat wearisome. No doubt you've often
wished you could be a youth always."

Harold confessed he had.

" You wouldn't like it. It's very monotonous."

" Haven't you any amusements ?"

" Plenty, but not the kind you like. Besides, there are
three things lacking with us in which you are eternally
engrossed. You wouldn't enjoy the life."

" May I ask to what three things you refer ?"

" Money, dress and politics. You see, devoid of these
subjects to talk about, you would never be able even to
exist."

Harold thought that might be so.

" No money ?"

" We don't need it. Think what a deprivation that
would be to yo" '"

It would — it was, especially in his present predica-
ment.

" Just fancy not having any money — not to be able to
flaunt your dollars in your neighbor's face, not to "

" Yes ; I understand," interrupted Harold.

"Then there is no politics."

" I hate politics."

" And dress ?"

Harold glanced at her.

" You don't seem to trouble yourself much about
that !"

" There's no necessity. Now think how many women
would be happy with us ! Why, there wouldn't be a par-
ticle of jealousy !"

" No love ?"

" Well, not mortal love. If we had that it would
arouse a terrible storm !'

Harold agreed with her.

" No necessity for powder and paint ?"

" Not the least ! Besides, it would wash off"."

" By the way," said Harold, with a new idea, " you
said just now you had perennial youth. Were you — were
you alive when "

"It isn't gallant, to say the least, to ask a lady her
age !"

Harold shrugged his shoulders.

" I can't make you out !"

" I dare say not. See ! the tide 's coming in fast."

" Must you go ?"

" I'm afraid so."

" Can't I see you again ?"

" Not if I can help it !"

" You're not complimentary now."

" That's so, but I don't want to get into this quandary
again."

" I'd like to see your home."

" In your present state you would find it uncommonly
damp."

" I forgot. Maybe I would."

They both laughed.

The waves were dashing near at hand. Another
swish, and the mermaid moved a little.

" Why, there's my pocket-book !" exclaimed Harold.
•' You've been sitting on it all the time we've been talk-
ing."

"That's too bad. Never mind! You're out of your
difficulty. So am I ! But you must be very careless."

" All newspaper men are."

" Oh, so you will make a story out of me ?"

" I hope to. Would you like to see it before I sub-
mit it V

" That's a very ingenious method of seeing me again.
You needn't. I'll trust you. But you may as well throw
a Copy of the paper into the sea. It might come my
way."

" I'll be sure to, but — before you go — tell me your
name."

" And my address ?"

" If you like "

" You'd never be able to find me. My name — say,
merely mermaid — mere maid ! My address — why, here !"

And she piunged into the sea !

Harold waited a moment to see if she would reappear,
but, as there wasn't a sign of her doing so, he stooped down
to pick up his pocket-book. It was gone ! Far out in the
distance he fancied he could see a form waving something
in its hand, and a voice came to his ears, singing,

" Now summer is here ; be sure you don't mash !
In strangers place little belief!
Don't talk to mern'aids — take care of your cash,
Or you'll probably come to grief!"

Noisy and Foolish.

i( I ET'S get Jingler to get us up a new class-yell," sug-
gests the senior.
" He can't do it. He's busy this fall writing campaign
songs. Says all he has to do is to take two or three yells
and make them rhvme."

Nov

she

Then all was still.
Harold used some words
for which there are no
parlor synonyms, and
walked awav.

" Well," thought he
to himself, " if I lost my
money, at all events I
tcund a mermaid."

But the worst of it
was that, when he sub-
mitted his story, the edi-
tor said it was too imag-
inative.

Perhaps he had been
dreaming.

A Shrewd

Young Lady.

THE election was sev-
eral weeks distant,
but, taking time by the
forelock, I proposed to a
certain young lady that
we make a bet o'' several
kisses on the result. I
was ''ather amazed at
my own audacity, and
was half uiciined to fear
that she would call her
father to help me on my
way to the street, and I
was, therefore, very
much surprised to hear
her say,

" 1 will take your bet ;
but as the election does-
n't come for some time, I
suppose that it would be
more business-like if we
made a deposit or put up
a forfeit, or whatever
you men call it."

The deposit was
made.

BAD man di;d. He
was dead. A good
man died. That was
years ago. He's still
alive.

THE NOBLE INTENTIONS OF YOUTH.

1 — BEFORE.

Youth — "Y'ou can bet your life that when I grow up I won't wear
a grouch face like that, especially if lam married."

pANDORA had just opened the casket. "
' said, " the lid is off."

This is the origin of the expression, Devery to the con-
trary notwithstanding.

Beyond the Realm
of Dreamland.

A CROWD stood be-
fore a booth at the
world's fair. All was
silent save now and then
for an indrawn breath.
The open-mouthed at
the front slipped quietly
out and gathered in awed
little groups and dis-
cu-sed the wonder in
whispers. Those in the
rear edged toward the
shrine and gasped and
stared and doubted.
Politicians and clergy-
men, boodlers and brew-
ers, chauffeurs and sex-
tons, rubbed elbows
humljled but happy.

Lounging on a divan,
Cleopatra - like, was a
kitchen-nymph, and near
by a sign read, •• A do-
mestic that stayed with
one family a year and
did not smash a single
plate."

Getting Away

from the Past.

i< IN my plans for your
new home," says
the architect, " I have
provided for a large, or-
nate frieze in the hall."

" Don't want it," as-
serts Mr. Conjeeled.
" \Vhat Y'

"Not a bit of it.
Can't take any chances
on having some one be-
ing reminded that I used
to drive an ice-wagon."

2 — THIRTY YEARS AFTER.

The youth of thirty years ago trying to look pleasant. He is
married, by the way.

you can't tell how
many throbs a man's
heart is givin' to th' min-
ute by countin' of th' ruf-
fles on his shirt-front.

^4"

"^j

HANDLED WITHOUT GLOVES.

Hilarious cow-puncher — " Whoop ! Wire
Hair Bill's my handle, an' I kin mop anythin' in
this tanglefoot fact'ry."

EVENING
CONVERSATION.

Mrs. Hohmboddie —
"The Light wed
divorce-case is coming
on this week."

Mr. Hohtiiboddic —
" Sad affair!"

Mrs, Hohmboddie —
" Well, why did she
hector him so ? .And I
don't think she has any
case at all. It's dis-
graceful for a married
woman to leave her
husband — and espe-
cially for jealousy.
Why, do you remem-
ber how angry she was
that night when he
danced so much with
me? Ridiculous ! '

Mr. Hohmboddie —
" But suppose I should
dance all the evening
with some other
woman and leave you sitting all alone ? Do you think you'd like

Mrs. Hohmboddie — "Qih.yoic wouldn't do such a thing."

Mr. Hohmboddie — " Yes, but if I did .' Wouldn't you be jealous a
little bit?"

Mrs. Hohmboddie — "Oh, I couldn't he. jealous, dear — never! If I
thought you cared more for some other woman than you cared for me I'd
sinnply walk out of that door and you'd never see my face again. But I
couldn't hi jealous, dear — oh, no !"

SIMPLE HINTS
ABOUT THE LA'WN.

First — buy ten dollars
worth of books and read
carefully all the directions
they contain, and if any two
agree throw them away as
valueless.

Second — buy everything
recommended as necessary,
even if it puts another mort-
gage on the house.

Third — buy five kinds of
seed and seven styles of fertil-
izer and attack the ground,
and if nothing happens wait
a reasonable time and try all
the other kinds of both.

Fourth — be sure to pur-
chase a lawn-mower before
the seed comes up, and get
the children to sharpen it by
daily exercise on the gravel-
path.

Fifth — if the seed do not
come up allow your fine new
crop of weeds to prove to
your neighbors that there is something in your soil e.xcept general cussedness.

Sixth — hope on, hope ever, and while you are
waiting read the bible and other good books that
will direct your thoughts from earth.

Seventh — look not with envy upon the velvet
green of your poor neighbor, who has done more
with sixty-seven cents' worth o"f common stuff
than you havt; with all the high-priced mixtures.
Eighth — take a long vacation and get the
hired man to do the work.

AN ALL-ROUND RATTLER,
At rattlin' bones I guess yo' won't
Find mah superiah ef yo' hunt.
An' talkin' huntin'. let me state
Dat dis yer coon shoots craps fus'rate !

Proprietor
ye air." (Biff.)

What a gifted coyote

It ;

III,
Proprietor Biffer — " Grab this handle an'
start in moppin' ther floor. Savvy ? '

-iff

The Fond Devil's Darning-needle;

Or, The Old Brindle Cow's Pet
By Ed Mott

DON'T care whether the)- come early
or late," said Solomon Cribber ab-
ruptly, and with no preliminary note
of explanation, " I'm always jest
about tickled to death to see the
devil's darnin' -needles divin' and
dartin' and twistin' about ag'in. A
good many folks, now, is afeard of
'em. Lots o' people shedders at
sight of 'em. Most folks don't like
to see 'em, any time o' year. But I
jest dote on the devil's darnin'-needles.
Their long, snaky bodies and whizzin'
wings, and their big bulgin" eyes, and
jaws like they was goin' to pitch
right on to you and tear great hunks
out o' you — why, they jest fill me
chuck up with joy ! And they always
have, ever sense I knowed that pet
devil's darnin'-needle our old brindle
COW had one time, when I was a little feller, mebbe ten
years old. My, my ! What an amazin' pair that brindle
and that pet devil's darnin'-needle o' her'n was ! Amazin'?
Well, I should say they was ! .

•• I was great fer investigatin' Natur' and her doin's, so
as to git kno\\ledge, and if I hadn't 'a' been I wouldn't
never 'a' discovered the things I found out in them days,
and it'd 'a' been a great loss to folks nowadays, 'cause I
wouldn't 'a' had them things to tell 'em. Amongst other
things I discovered was that the devil's darnin'-needle
come from a bug that was a leetle the consarnedest-lookin'
critter that ever wore horns, and had three sharp spikes
fer a tail. This bug lived in the water, and used to climb
out and split itself up the back, throw off the bug git-up,
and turn into the devil's darnin'-needle, but I hadn't never
seen it do it yit, so one day I ketched one of 'em and put
it in a bucket o' water, where I could watch it come out
and change its clothes.

" I kep' goin' to the pail every little while to see how
the bug was gittin' along, and as I was makin' one o'
them visits I see our old brindle cow \\'ith her nose stuck
clear to the bottom of the pail. Sockin' Sam Slocum !
how I did yell at that cow ! She took her nose out o' the
pail and walked away to the shade of an apple-tree, where
she stood and chawed her cud and switched flies. I got
to the pail as soon as I could. The brindle had drinked
every drop o' water out 6( it, and as the bug was gone,
and I couldn't find it nowheres, I natur'ly thunk that she
had gulped that down under her brisket, too.

" Mad ? Was I mad ? There never vvais a madder
seeker after things to know than I was to find my devil's
darnin'-needle bug gobbled up by a consarned unseekin'
brindle cow, and I started in to kill the cow on the spot,
but pap come out just then, and as he was a positive sort
of a feller-citizen, the cow was saved. And many is the

time I've thanked my stars fer it. If I'd 'a' killed that
cow I wouldn't have now one o' the beautifullest and
amazin'est doin's o' natur' to hand down to posterity that
natur' ever done.

" Havin' concluded not to kill the cow, I stood by her
and got a little comfort out o' usin' some language to her
that I have an idee would 'a' been a leetle su'prisin' to my
Sunday-school teacher. I stood close to the cow, and every
second or two she'd shet her eyes and shake her head,
and bawl sort o' tetchin' like, jest as if she had things in
her innards that wasn't settin' as good as bran mash.

"'That devil's darnin'-needle bug has fastened its
spikes on your maw !' I snaps out to her. • It's pinchin'
you like a pair o' tinker's nippers !' says I. ' Yes ; and I'm
glad of it !' I says.

" But whde I was jawin' away at the old brindle, sud-
dently I see somethin' comin' a-creepin" out of her nos-
tril, and, lo and behold you ! what should it be but my
ilevil's darnin'-needle bug ! The big-headed critter had
escaped bein' swallered by slyly dartin' up into the cow's
nose. Then 1 took back all I had said to the cow, and was
on the p'int o" ketchin' the bug "and puttin" it in another
pail o' water when it went streakin' it up the cow's face,
and so on up one of her horns, clean to the tip end, where it
stopped, and from the way it acted I knowed it was goin'
to git out o' further danger o' bein' took into a cow's maw
Dy quittin' to be a bug and come out a devil's darnin'-
needle ; so I jest stood still and watched the performance.

" It was over in a jiffy, and almost before I knowed it
the bug's old clothes was hangin' there on the tip o' the
cow's horn, and it was divin' and dartin' and zigzaggin"
around as a devil's darnin'-needle, and a tremendous big
one, too, it was, I want to tell you ! And what was it up
to ? It was playin' hob with the flies that was pesierin'
the lite out o' that cow. It duv and darted and zigzagged
from her head to her tail, and all around and about her,
gobblin' flies, so that in less than five minutes the cow
quit switchin' her tail, and didn't have to lift a hoof to
give a single stomp !

'■ 1 jest wisht you could '-a' seen the way that cow
looked 'round to see what under the canopy could 'a' hap-
pened to make this sudden change in the sitiwation, fer
there hadn't never been a minute in all her life when
flies hadn't dipped her and dipped her, from the time the
johnny-jump-ups come in the spring till the cabbage
stumps froze in the fall ; and when she see that devil s
darnin'-needle dodgin' every which w-ay about her, and
snappin' up flies before they had a chance to light on
her and sock a stinger in her, she see the hull pint to
wunst, and give that darnin'-needle a look fuller o' grati-
tude than a coon dog is o' fleas, and turned her head
back, shet her eyes with a smile on her face, and chawed
her cud as she hadn't never chawed it before.

" And that darnin'-needle stayed right by the old
brindle, keepin' the flies down, and it was tetchin' to see

jyy

how much they did think o" one another. I said that the
darnin'-needle was the old brindle's pet, but I guess
mebbe I movvt rather say that the old brindle was the
darnin'-needle's pet, that amazin' insec' did look after and
coddle her so. Anyway, flies growed to be skeercer and
skeercer around the cow, fer the knowin' ones soon dis-
covered that it was jest nothin' but the courtin' o' death if
they tried to get a meal out of her, and the flies was pooty
much all knowin' ones on the old Passadanky in them
days. And as the flies fit shy o' tacklin' the cow, and
give the devil's darnin'-needle a wide berth, the darnin'-
needle growed thinner and thinner, fer it wouldn't leave
the old brindle a minute to go some'r's else to git a square
meal o' flies.

" The brindle begun to notice this sacrificin' fondness
on the part of her bulgin'-eyed guardeen, and she made
up her mind it would never do fer her to stand there in
that pastur' and see it go on, so one day her and the
darnin'-needle turned up missin'. I found 'em in a piece
o' timber a mile or so away, where deer flies, the unmer-
cifullest chawers o" cattle that was ever built with wings
on, was thicker than bees in a hive. There stood the old
brindle, knee-deep in the soft bottom, chawin' her cud,
and actu'ly sound asleep, with a look o' sweet peace on
her face, while the devil's darnin'-needle was jest in clover
amongst the ragin' deer flies, which was swarmin' about,
tryin' to sock their stingers in the cow, but landin' in the
darnin'-needle's ma\v every time. I hated like Sam Hill
to break in on setch a happy scene o' peace and joy, but
it was milkin'-time, and we needed old brindle to home.

•' But next day she took her devil's darnin'-needle to
the picnic amongst the deer flies ag'in, and by and by, to
give it a change o' diet and fun, she steered it over to the
cramberry ma'sh, where "skeeters jest riz up in clouds
from the bogs on to anything that went in amongst
'em. And there she'd stand, ding nigh hid by the 'skeet-
ers, while the darnin'-needle swep' 'em off her like chaff
before the wind. Thumpin' Theophilus ! what joyous
times that cow and that devil's darnin'-needle did use to
have ! What times, what times !

"And of course it wasn't long before all this got cir-
culated through the deestrict, and one day a farmer come
over to our place and said he'd give me ten dollars if I'd
ketch the fond devil's darnin'-needle and let him take it
home to set as a guardeen over his cows. It was a sad
showin' o' no heart in me fer to do it, but coon dogs was
high, and I wanted one the wust way. So I told the
firmer I'd do it, and I watched my chance and netted the
old brindle's pet jest as it was pickin' a partic'larly hot-
toothed boss- fly off of her hip. I done the wicked act so
neat and quick that the poor cow- never noticed it, and
the farmer had the kidnaped insec' in a box and was
half-way home with it, the ten dollars bein' safe in my
Kentucky jane pants, before she noticed that somethin'
had gone wrong. She quit chawin' her cud and looked
around, first on one side and then on t'other. Then she
switched herself about, t'other end to, and the look o' woe
that busted out on her face ha'nts me yit. No cow that
ever lost her baby calf ever sot up setch a heart-bleed in'
bellerin' as that sorrowin' old brindle of our'n did when
she see that her devil's darnin'-needle was gone. I crep'
up into the haymow and wept bitter tears over the partin'
o' them two fond and lovin' natur's. Then I went over to

Joe Bunnel's and bought his coon dog — and a better coon
dog never baiked up a tree than that un was.

" The farmer that dickered with me fer that amazin'
devil's darnin'-needle lived seven miled from our place.
It was a good hour's drive. Jest an hour and two min-
utes from the time he druv away with the insec' the old
brindle suddently shet up her sorrowin' beller. I looked
out o' the window and see her caperin' about as if she
was jest on the pint o' goin' crazy with joy. I run out to
see what had happened to her, and come jest as nigh
faintin' as I ever did in my life when I see the devil's
darnin'-needle sailin' about her, jest as tickled as she was !
" I didn't say nothin'. What could I ? And the re-
proachin' look that darnin'-needle did give me ! I see it
yit ! And next day the farrner come back.

"' Is that amazin' devil's darnin'-needle o'mine here .'"'
he asked.

" I said I believed it was.

" 'Well, if that don't beat all natur'!' said the farmer.
' Why,' said he, ' I turned that spooky critter loose the
very minute I got home, right on to a brindle cow as
much like your'n as two peas is, and she had a reg'lar
coat o' mail o' flies on to her, too,' said he. 'The darnin'-
needle he jest riz in the air about ten foot, hung there fer
mebbe two seconds, and then away he slid like a shot out
of a gun, and p'inted straight fer your place. And here
he is !' said the farmer.

" That fond and homesick darnin'-needle had flew back
to old brindle in two minutes by the watch !

"'Well,' said the farmer, 'I guess that fly-gobblin'
critter is a leetle too britchy to pastur' en my farm, so
I'll take my ten dollars back,' said he.

"' Well,' said I, 'hardly! A' bargain is a bargain,' I
said. ' You'll have to take the devil's darnin'-needle,' I
said.

"So we went out to capture it, but it was gone. Old
brindle stood there, covered three deep with flies, but she
wasn't sorrowin' any, and she didn't seem to be worried a
bit. I told the farmer he'd better come over next day, as
mebbe his darnin'-needle 'd be back by then. The farmer
hadn't any more than got out o' sight on his way back
home than that amazin' devil's darnin'-needle come
dancin' out o' one o' the cow's ears, where it had crawled
in to hide tdl the farmer was gone ! And it went to
hustlin' flies with more vim than ever.

" But, my, my ! It would 'a' been much better fer that
amazin' critter if it had gone back with that farmer !
Much better. It hadn't never see none of its ow'n kind
yit, and as luck would have it, along that way that very
day come a-sailin' a devil's darnin'-needle bigger yit than
the pet one was. But the old brindle's guardeen pitched
into him on sight. The stranger, havin' seen more o' the
world than his self-sacrificin' feller darnin'-needle, turned
in and chopped the head off o' the brindle's pet in less
than the wink of an eye. and went on his way. I was all
cut up over it, and it preyed on me so that me and the
dog only got two coons that night. As fer the poor old
brindle, it was many a week before she got over her loss
— not till frost come good and heavy and druv the flies
away.

"Dote on devil's darnin'-needles ? Why shouldn't I?
And what an amazin' pair that old brindle and her pet
was ! Amazin' ? I should say they was !"

'^liT'

HIS PERSONAL PROPERTY.

DoLLV — •' Oh, she says Willie is awful good — she says he loves the very ground she walks on.'

Molly — ■•What did her father say ?"

Dolly — " Well, he said he isn't good enough for 'f/iis earth."

The Fashion Spreads.

(( /^H, DOCTOR !" moaned the suffering young woman.
" I have such an excruciating pain in my side."

"Urn — yes. What seems to be the nature of the
pain ?■' asked the physician. " Does it cover the side, or
is it confined to one spot ?"

" It seems to be scattered all over," explained the
patient ; "just as if it were in a hundred little spots all at
once."

" Ah !" mused the physician. " This corroborates my
theory of the influence of current fashions upon the human
system. You have what we w-ould colloquially term a
drop-stitch in the side."

<< A ND you say Kinder is lender-hearted ?"

"Indeed, yes. He sandpapered his bald spot
last week, so that the mosquitoes would not slip upon it
and break their legs."

Peanut Politics.

(( VES, suh," said Colonel Bludgore ; " we had a small
taste o' this hyuh peanut politics down hyuh last
campaign."

" You did ?" asked the visitor.

" Yes, suh. Thah was a bumptious upstaht from
somewhah neah Cincinnati come down hyuh an' 'lowed
he could run a lively campaign fob us."

" NVhat did he do ?"

" Called everybody ' colonel,' an' afteh he had made
them all shell out he jumped the town, by gad, suh ! '

Nothing Wasted Nowadays.

t (, p\'EN the chaff is not wasted," observed the visitor
to the miller who was showing him the various
processes of making flour.

" You mean," corrected the honest miller, " the health-
food."

'3f7

A PEDAL IMPEDIMENT.

Mr. Jackson — " Hi. dar, yo' Misto Johnson !"

Mr. Johnson — " Whad ?"

Mr. Jackson — " Will yo' hab de goodnis' to reckomember dat Misto Peeples an' I is paddlin' ag'in' de wind, an' ter draw in yo' feel ?"

A GOOD OPENING. NOT PRACTICABLE.

" I'm going to move my business to Greenville." said Pawl, Miss New York — " It fairly made my blood boil !"

the undertaker, to a friend. Miss Bawston — " Vou are evidently not cognizant of the

"Isn't the town well supplied with undertakers.'" asked fact that after continued physiological researches it has been

the friend. ascertained that human e.xistence cannot be maintained sub-

" I think not. There are only two there now, while the sequent to the blood's having acquired the temperature of

place has twelve physicians."

one hundred and fourteen degrees."

NEEDED IT IN HIS BUSINESS.
Miss Howler (who sings [.?])—" That gentleman you just introduced me to said he would give anything if he had my voicd
By the way what business does he follow ?"
Friend — " He's an auctioneer."

-3^

WHAT'S THE USE?

Mike Corrigan — "Th' gazaboo at th' meetin' lasht noight said a felly thot's drowndin'
thinks av iverything he's iver done."

Ollx man Milligan — '• Th' divil take him 1 Thin a man 's a fool to thry to remimber
iverything whin he kin do it aizy be drowndin' himsilf."

The Arkansas Traveler.

il T DO not see any peculiarity about your people," said
an eastern judge, addressing his traveling com-
panion, a well-known Arkansas lawyer. " I have traveled
quite extensively in this state, and I have not, as yet,
found that eccentricity of action and prevarication of
reply that have often amused me in the newspapers."

" You have done most of your traveling by rail," re-
plied the lawyer. " This is your first trip away from the
main road, is it not ?"

" Yes."

"Well, I'll show you some of our genuine natives.
Yonder is a house. Call the landlord and converse with
him."

" Hello !" called the judge.

" Comin'," the man replied, depositing a child in the
doorway and advancing.

" How's all the folks ?"

" Children 's hearty ; wife 's not well. Ain't what you
might call bedsick, but jest sorter stretchy."

"Got anything to ent in the
house ?"

" Ef I had it anywhere I'd
have it in the house."

"How many children have
you ?"

" Many as I want."
" How many did you want .'"
" Wa'n't hankerin' arter a
powerful chance, but I'm satis-
fied.'

" How long have you been liv-
ing here ?"
" Too long."
" How many years ?"
" Been here ever since my old-
est boy was born."

■' What year was he born ?"
" The year I come here."
" How old is your boy ?"
"Ef he had lived he would have
been the oldest until yit ; but, as
he died, Jim's the oldest."
" How old is Jim ?"
" He ain't as old as the one
what died."

" Well, how old was the one
that died ?"

" He was older than Jim."
"What do you do for a liv-
ing ?■•
" Eat."

" How do you get anything to
eat ?"

" The best way we kin."
" How do you spend your Sun-
days ?"

" Like the week days."
" How do you spend them ? '
" Like Sundays."
" Is that your daughter, yonder ?"
" No, sir ; she ain't my daughter yonder nor nowhert
else."

" Is she a relative of yours ?"
" No, sir ; no kin."
" Kin to your wife, I suppose."
" No kin to my wife, but she's kin to my children. '
" How do you make that out?'
" She's my wife."

" How far is it to the next house ?"
" It's called three miles, but the man what calls it that
is a liar."

" I've got enough," said the judge, turning to the
lawyer. "Drive on. I pity the man who depends on
this man for information."

HAMPTON HOGE WILKINSON.

((

CHE'S surely a creative genius
at his wife with admiration.

makes ?" I asks of him.

says th' man, lookin'
" What is it that she
Oh, trouble," he 'says proudly.

^^^

A NEEDLESS
WARNING.

nAlDS, this thought on
your memories score,
Next leap-year 's nineteen-hun-

dred-four.
So let not time unheeded spin
If you a marriage prize would

win ;
Be bold and earnest, but not

flirty,
For twenty-two and eight make

thirty.

DIFFICULT TO
DISCOVER.

Hamlet Thespian —
"Judge, I want a search-
warrant against Shakespeare
Playnght."

Judge Woolsack — ''^^SX
are your reasons for making
the application, sir? Have
you reason to suspect that
Playright has stolen anything
of yours ?"

Hamlet Thespian — ' • Oh ,
no ; it's not that at all. But
you see he has just written
a farce-comedy for me, and
I must take some extreme
measures to find the plot."

THE DISADVANTAGES AND ADVANTAGES
Wimple gets along only tolerably well with , " ^ut wO^en^h^e^h

his new cork leg ^ '

OF IT.
appens to fall

into the water

HAD HEARD SEVERAL OVER THE WIRE.
' ' Do you understand the nature of an oath ?"
" I'm a telephone-girl, judge."

U.cr

The Sensitiveness of Cousin Marcellus Merriweather

By Ed Mott

jHERE was goin' to be a sbootin'
match over to the Burnt Ches'nut
deestric'," said Solomon Cribber,
persistent and unabashed chron-
icler that he was, " and when
they asked Cousin Marcellus
Merriweather if he was goin" to
take it in, he give that protestin'
smile o' his'n, and he says,

" • Well, I mowt go and be a
lookin'-on spectator, so to speak,'
says he, ' but I hain't got the con-
science to take holt and shoot
ag'in, you folks,' says he. ' It
wouldn't be much better than
stealin',' says he.

"Cousin Marcellus hadn't
been visitin' of us long, and we
hadn't I'arnt yit what an as-
toundin' feller-bein' he was, and
his overpowerin' sensitive natur'
hadn't struck us.

" ' I'm sorry, now,' says he,
' that I I'arnt to shoot out in that
diluted and clarified air o' them
fur-away Rocky Mountain plains.
It's unfortunate,' says he, ' fer I
could enjoy your shootin' match
beyend all reach o' words to tell ;
but I hain't got the conscience.
It wouldn't be much better than stealin',' says he. ' Bet-
ter ?■ says he. ' Why, it'd be a ding sight worse !'

"We all said that was too bad. We'd like to have
him enjoy himself, we said.

" ' Yes,' says he ; ' I wish Uncle Snebecker Slocum was
here. He could tell you some things about shootin' that'd
make you blink. But I I'arnt under Uncle Snebecker,
and consekently shot some myself. Me and him had a
contract to keep the ingineers that was buildin' the rail-
road through that country slocked up with game, and to
keep the Injuns off of 'em.

Marcellus," says Uncle Snebecker to me one tlay,

" my boss smells some."

" • Uncle Snebecker had a boss that could smell Injins
miles before any one else could see 'em, and yet Uncle
Snebecker had an eye that could see 'em so fur away that
they didn't look no bigger than flies.

" ' " Marcellus," says he, this day, " my boss smells
some."

" ' We traveled along for an hour or more, Uncle
Snebecker eyin' the distance like a cat mowt watch fer a
mouse, and then at last he pulled up and says,
" ' " I see 'em !" he says.

Where ?" says I.

" ' He p'inted his finger acrosst the country, and I seen

a row o' black specks. They looked like bottles — jest like
bottles I've see some folks put cider in,' says Cousin
Marcellus, stoppin' and lookm' around as if be mowt see
somethin' o' the kind, so as he could show us better what
them black specks looked like ; but Uncle David Becken-
darter always tiraws his cider in a pitcher, and he hadn't
had none brung in yet. Cousin Marcellus seemed sort o'
disapp'inted, but he went on.

" ' They looked like bottles,' says he, ' and there was a
couple o' dozen of "em.

" • " Aim at the second one from the right-hand end,"
says Uncle Snebecker, " and I'll aim at the first one,"
says he.

" ' I aimed and fired, and so did he. Then two o'
them specks was gone.

"•"We'll jest take the next two,' says Uncle Sne-
becker, and we took em. Then there was four o' them
specks gone. We kep' on that way tdl there was twelve
o' the specks gone, and then we see the rest of 'em
movin' away so fast that it seemed as if the wind must be
blowin' 'em, and they went out o' sight.

" ' Me and Uncle Snebecker rode over that way, meas-
urin' the distance as we went, and when we had gone jest
two miles to an inch we found twelve dead Injins
stretched out on the grass, each one with a bullet-hole
betwi.xt his eyes.'

" ' And served 'em right !' says Aunt Sally Becken-
darter. • The pesky things 1' says she.

" Uncle David he looked solemn, like as if he mowt be
ponderin' on the suddenness o' them unfortunate Injins
bein' took off"; but Cousin Toby Beckendarter he only jest
rolled his tobacker from one cheek to another and
grinned. Toby always was as aggravatin' as burdock in
a cow's tail, anyho\v.

" ' Well, yes, Toby,' says Cousin i^Iarcellus, though
Toby Ijadn't said a word, • it does seem as if two mile w-as
a consider'ble ways fer a gun to carry, don't it ? Looks a
lee-e-e-e-tle that way. But it's tliat air. It's all owin' to
that air. That is, as to the gun a-carryin'. The shootin',
o' course, is owin' to the shooter. That air is so light
and thin and stiddy that if you wanted a hummin'-bird's
feather to float y-ou'd have to sit under it and blow it with
a bellus. So, you see, your rifle ball don't rub ag'in no
friction as it travels through the air. Not a consarned
friction. Consekently, there ain't nothin' to stop it till it
plunks into what you've sent it after. And that air lays
in streaks and stratties that acts queer sometimes. Fer
instance, one day Uncle Snebecker says to me,

" ' " Marcellus," he says, " the boys wants elk fer sup-
per. Go git one," says he. "Git a big one."

" • So I took my gun and went out after an elk. I
wasn't lookin' fer no setch an elk as the one that riz up
before me, though I wanted a big one. He riz up out o'
the brush and su'prised me so that I had a notion to let
him go, but then, .thinks I, they want a big one, and if I

c/«)/

git 'em this one they can't say I didn't git one big enough,
so I concluded to bag him. He didn't seem to be more
than ten rod away, but he never paid no more attention
to me than if I wa'n't there with a death-dealin' rifle that
never missed. He was as big as any two elephants I ever
see, that elk was, and his horns throwed a shadder bigger
than a circus-tent.'

" ' Massyful man !' says Aunt Sally. ' And to think o'
the hams the critter must 'a' had !' says she.

"Cousin Toby he changed his chaw back into t'other
cheek so suddent that it most bounced out of his mouth
when it struck, and Uncle David kep' on lookin' so solemn
over them twelve Injins that had gone to the happy
huntin' grounds so unexpected that he didn't notice how
wonderin' Cousin Marcellus was castin' his eye on the
cider pitcher that there hadn't been nothin' drawed into
yit. Then pooty soon Cousin Marcellus heaved a sigh
and went on about the big elk.

" ' The tremendous critter walked away a few steps
and laid down,' says he. ' I stared at him a spell, and
then I hauled up and whanged away at him All he
done was to give sort of a heave and a shake and a tremble,
and I could see him die right there, with the blood gushin'
out of his side like a good-sized creek.

" ' " It's funny," says I, •' the way that tremendous elk
heaved and shook and trembled, that I didn't feel the
earth a-quiverin' some," I says. "It's funny !" I says.

" ' I stepped up toler'ble lively to git a closer look at
the dead giant elk, and the further I went the bigger he
got, yit I didn't seem to be gittin' a smitch nigher to him
than I was when I first see him ! But I kep' on, and
after I had traveled mebbe half an hour the elk took to
gittin' littler, and he kep' on gittin' littler and littler as I
went, until, by thumps ! he got so little I couldn't see no
elk' at all ! And I couldn't see nothin' that looked any
ways like the spot where he first riz up before me ! Not
an inch o' that country could I see, nor nothin' that looked
like it !

"'"Well, says I, gittin' a little het up, "have I been
wastin' good powder and ball on nothin' but a spook elk .'"
says I.

" ' But then in a second I knowed that couldn't be,
either, 'cause a spook elk wouldn't be loaded up with
blood like that ali-pervadin' elk that I had shot was, so I
went plowin' on, bound to run that skeery situation to its
hole or perish in doin' of it. I tramped along fer, I guess,
half an hour more, and then the very spot where I had
see the elk first and shot it come in sight ag'in, but it
didn't seem to cover so much ground, and was a good
ways off. In ten minutes more I was on the spot, and
there laid the elk — a slammin' great big one, fer a fact,
but no more the size o' the elk I had shot at than a mouse
is the size of a bear ! It was the same elk, though, ler
there was my bullet-hole in his side, jest where I had
headed it fer.'

" ' La, suds !' says Aunt Sally, shovin' her specs up on
her forehead and lookin' sorry. ' Wa'n't that jest too pro-
vokin' the way that elk did shrink on you ?' says she.
' And I'll bet them hams didn't measure so awful mucji,
after all,' says she.

"'Cousin Marcellus didn't say nothin', but he looked

to me as if he'd bet somethin' that them hams 'd measure
a ding sight more than what was in that cider pitcher
settin' eni|)ty on the table would ; and Cousin Toby Beck-
endarter chawed so ravenish on his cud that he made me
nervous, and I wished he'd git the lockjaw ; but Uncle
David seemed to have them Injins and their unmerciful
takin' off on his mind yit, and he kep' his eyes sot on tlie
ceilin'. Cousin Marcellus he ketched Cousin Toby's eye,
though, and I could see, then, that his feelin's was hurt
by it.

" ' Why, Toby,' he says, ' it was the air — that amazin'
air !' he says. ' I didn't know it then, but I had run into
one o' them streaks and stratties of it, at a p'int they
called Telescopin' Stretch. That streak of air wa'n't
only thin and light, but it was a reg'lar spyglass stratty.
I was plumb in its focus when that elk riz up. The elk
was ten mile away, but the microscopin' air made it look
as if he was jest a little jog on ahead o' me, and it showed
him up ten times bigger than he was. When I socked
the bullet in him, and started to take a nigher look at him,
I walked along in the focus till I got so fur that it natur'ly
got unfocused, and the further I walked then, o' course,
the wuss it got unfocused, till by and by I couldn't see
nothin' at all o' the elk.

" ' Then what ?' says Cousin Marcellus. ' Why, I got
out o' the magnifyin' stratty, o' course, and come stompin'
out on to my game layin' dead in its natural surroundin's.
Then it was plain as the nose on your face ' — and Cousin
Marcellus oughtn't 'a' said that, 'cause there ain't nothin'
much plainer than Cousin Toby Beckendarter's nose,
unless it's a red barn — ' then it was as plain as the nose
on your face,' says Cousin Marcellus. ' But it was tryin'
on my nerves fer a while, I want to tell you !' says he.
• Terrible tryin' !'

" Then Uncle David he seemed to fergit about them
unfortunate Injins, and he fetched his eye down off o' the
ceilin', and turned it on to Cousin Marcellus.

" ' Marcellus !' says he, and if he had been lookin' at
me that way I'd 'a' knowed that he was on the p'int o'
callin' me a liar. ' Marcellus !' says he, ' elks is shy and
wary, and that elk was in tliat focus as well as you was.
Why didn't it see you, then, loomin' up bigger than Collar
the Philistine, and skite away from there before you could
raise your gun ? Marcellus Merriweather,' says he, ' 1
know elks ! Why didn't that un see you bigger than a
giant, and fly ?' says he.

" ' Oh, Uncle David,' says Cousin Marcellus, almost
a-sobbin', and castin' a despairin' look at the empty
pitcher, and I see that his feelin's was hurt tremendous.
' Oh, Uncle David !' says he. ' So he would 'a' flew, but
don't you see he was lookin' through the little end o' that
deceivin' air spyglass, and I looked to him like a midget,
more than fifty mile away !' says he.

" ' I want to know !' says Aunt Sally, and Uncle David
he wilted back in his cheer and looked to me fer all the
world as if he wished he was along with them took-
sudden Injins in the happy huntin' grounds. Cousin
Toby grabbed his chawed-out cud out of his mouth and
chucked it out o' the window so fierce that it hit old
Ring, the churn dog, in the eye, and sent him ki-yi-in' fer
the duck-pond.

•• • So you see as to shootin',' says Cousin Marcellus,
overlookin' everything and smilin'; ' as to shootin', you see
I couUln't have the conscience to take a hand in your
shoolin'-match and lug home all the prizes. It'd be wuss
than stealia',' says he.

•■Then Cousin Toby, the aggravatih' feller that he is,
riz up in his aggravatinest way, and says to Marcellus,

" ' See that barn down yender ?' says he. ' Well, it's a
scant hundred yards from here, as the crow flies. I'll
bet you nine-shillin' ag'in that paper collar you're wearin'
that you can't hit the side of it in ten times try in', with a
shot-gun !' says he.

" Cousin Marcellus sot a spell as it he couldn't believe
his ears. He looked at Cousin Toby, and he looked at
Uncle David. Then he cast a sobl)in' sort of a gaze at
the pitcher that there hadn't been nothin" drawed in, and
he got up and walked out o' the house and down the
yard.

" • Ain't it a shame !' says Aunt Sally. • Now you've
hurt his feelin's, and he won't never come back !' says she.

" We'd all been to supper, and that was w-hat made
me wonder, fer Uncle David always sent me down cellar
to draw the pitcher o' cider fer the evenin', right after
supper, but this time he hadn't. We sot and sot and
sot after Cousin Marcellus had gone away with his feelin's

hurt so shameful. We sot mebbe an hour and a half,
and Uncle David didn't say nothin' about drawin' the
cider. Then he sort o' snorted, and says,

" ' I guess he won't be comin' back, that's so,' says he.
' Solomon,' says he, ' you kin go down cellar and draw
the cider,' says he.

" I went down and drawed the citler and come up
with it, and was settin' it on the kitchen table, when the
door opened and in walked Cousin Marcellus ! I could
see in a minute that he had fergive everything. Uncle
David didn't say a word, but he poured Cousin Marcellus
out a glass o' cider, and we drunk around. And we
drunk around ag'in. Then Uncle David says to Cousin
Marcellus,

'■ ' I don't want to hurt your feelin's, Marcellus,' he
says, ' but my idee is that you've got a better nose fer
cider than your Uncle Snebecker Slocum's boss had fer
Injins, yit,' he says.

" Then he didn't pour no more cider fer Cousin Mar-
cellus, and by and by Cousin Marcellus says,

" ' Uncle David,' says he, ' you've hurt 'em !'

" Then he went off to bed and didn't git up next
mornin' till all the chores was done and the cows was all
milked — setch a sensitive natur' Cousin Marcellus Merri-
weather d'd have."

The Great Unpublished

IX the precincts of the modern magazine — the magazine

which caters, wholly or in part, to sure-enough culture
in the community — nothing else perhaps is more certain
of a welcome than is a complete set of unpublished letters.

Unpublished letters, in the magazine meaning of the
term, are the private epistles of a deceased celebrity
whose achievements in literature, Wall street, poetry, or
pig-iron make any words of his, however trivial, worth
setting up. Usually, before publication, they are in the
careful custody of an old family acquaintance or trusted
associate, and, except in rarest instances, they deal with
such ponderous subjects as the celebrity's muscular rheu-
matism, his quarrel with Cleaver, the butcher, over the
last month's bill, or with his principal reason for declin-
ing, somewhat tardily, a dinner invitation.

Invariably, also, among unpublished letters, there is an
exceptionally kind one written to " My dear young friend,"
in response to the young friend's earnest plea for an auto-
graph. The autograph attached and the letter mailed,
the young friend logically became in later years the con-
fidant, companion and stanch supporter of the celebrity
in all the latter's sayings and doings. Incidentally,
through his intimate acquaintance with the famous one,
he was able to acquire a hundred and three odd scraps
of the celebrated handwriting, which doubtless would
have been lost forever to the world had not a thorough
inspection of the library waste-basket at intervals pre-
vented.

It will be generally recognized that unpublished let-
ters, notes, memoranda, etc., never get into print dur-
ing the life-period of the man who w-rote them. For this
there is a good and sufficient reason. If by any slip they

should get into print during the lifetime of the author
some of the most delightful friendships between celebri-
ties and recipients of unpublished letters would be rudely
terminated.

When a celebrity becomes " the late," however, and
muddy half-tones of him appear simultaneously in a great
many dailies, the literary quarantine is at once lifted and
the private correspondence of the past, in the twinkling ol
an eye, is " the unpublished letters " of the present, a card
being placet! in the window for the passing publisher. In
a measure, it is the same with unpublished poems, except
that poems as a rule are found in old desks or hair trunks
accidentally, and seldom are exploited by dear young
friends, to whom tiiey had been sent unsuspectingly.

Celebrities of to-day, both in literature and in other fields,
may see their duty clearly in the current demand for the
unpublished. It is a duty via which posterity may be
edified and on all news-stands. If every poet and philos-
opher of prominence will devote, say, half an hour each
week to writing and hiding, not too securely, a few odd
lines of his stuff— stuff that he can't sell — and if every
other notable will dash off daily a duplicate of the letter
he sends to the caterer about his daughter's wedding, to
his son at college, or to the factory superintendent at
Newark, he will confer a lasting favor upon some one
rejoicing in the freedom of his household, and furnish,
besides, to some deserving, uplifting magazine of the-future
a leading lit'ry feature.

For the published in these days sliall pass away and
be'forgotten, but the unpublished, at twenty-five cents per
word, shall not pass away till the time is mellow.

.'\RTHl'K H. FOLWBLL.

^0 I

The Saving of O'Lcary

By William J. Lampton

OU should see Mrs. O'Leary,
said my wife to me shortly
after my arrival at the summer
Hotel where she was spending
the season and I was spending
every other week-end and all
my availahle cash.

"Be jabers, ■' I responded,
with the best imitation I had
of the Hibernian dialect, " an"
phwat have yez been doin" wid
Mrs O'Leary ?"

" My dear," said my wife
repiovingly, and with a slow
sarcasm intended to sink clear
into the bone, " I perceive that
your opinion of Mrs. O'Leary is as poor as your iniitation
of the dialect you erroneously associate with her name."
'• I don't know her at all, ' I replied, on the defensive.
•• It was not necessary for you to announce it, ' she
continued in a tone known only to school children and
husbands. " When you have seen Mrs. O'Leary you will
have occasion to change your views concerning her."

As usual, my wife was correct in her conclusion, for
when I saw the lady — though I had really had no views
at all on the subject — I was perfectly delighted.

She was that type of Spanish women we see in pic-
tures, and her name bore no relation to her whatever.
As she and my wife were on such e.xcellent terms, my
period of probation as a stranger was short, and within a
few minutes we were chatting away like old friends.

" Really," I said to her, •• you must pardon me, but
may I ask about your name ? As far as I am able to
recall I do not remember having heard of the O'Learys of
Cordova, or Seville, or even of the Alhambra."
" And still I am Dolores O'Leary, ' she smiled.
" Which being interpreted," I said with a dawning
consciousness, " means that you were once Dolores some-
body-else, and some Irish hidalgo, or don, came your
way and chose you for a mate with the usual result to the
lady's name ?"

'• Wouldn't Charles take the prize in a guessing con-
test ?" remarked my wife to Mrs. O'Leary, and both
women smiled at each other without regarding me, e.xcept
remotely and psychologically. ^

Then I recalled an old friend anil college mate of mine,
Robert Emmet O'Leary, a dare-devil-Dick sort of a chap,
who had no more than succeeded to his patrimony until
he had converted it into cash and gone off on a wild ad-
venture to one of our South American republics.

"I don't know, madam," I put in upon the smiles of
the ladies, " which of the O'Learys has been so fortunate,
but there is one I used to know who was worthy of even
such good fortune as to be your husband. His name was
Bob and we were as brothers for five years."

She took a tiny little locket from some place about her
where women usually carry such things and handed it to
me.

•' Look at that, " she said, and I obeye<: her.

'• By Jove ! — I beg your pardon," 1 e.\claimed, and apol-
ogized in the same breath. " It's Bob."

That evening Bob arrived, and our respective and
respected wives agreed to let us have as much ol the
night to ourselves as we wanted if we would give them an
hour after dinner. This proposition we accepted willingly,
because there was no other course open to us, and we
went ill to dinner.

"Well, well, old Bob," I said when we had given our
orders. " how did it ever happen ?" and I nodded signifi-
cantly toward Mrs. O'Leary, for the Robert of old had
many narrow escapes.

" That's what I wanted to tell you when we had the
night to ourselves," he laughed.

"What selfish creatures men are," said my wife.
" Why not let us know now ? I have never met Mr.
O'Leary, but I have known 'old Bob' ever since I've
been married.

" How long has that been ?" inquired Bob of me.

" Fifteen years."

" Three to the good of me," he said, with a bow^ to my
wife. " Dolores and I have been struggling along with
each other for a dozen long and weary years."

Mrs. OLeary threw a kiss to him from the lips of her
pretty fingers in response to this doleful e.xposition of his
domestic life.

" That's our experience," said my wife, and I threw a
whole handful to her.

" Kind words can never die," I quoted, •' but what
about the story of Mr. O'Leary "s life ?" I added, turning to
him.

" Well, briefly, " he replied, " after I told you good-bye,
sixteen years ago, I went to Soutii America and kept out
of politics "

" An Irishman, and kept out of politics ?" I interrupted.

" Kept out till I thought I had some show," he re-
sumed, " atul then went in like "

•' An Irishman," I broke in again, and my wife held up
her finger warningly against further disturbance of the
narrative. '

" Elxactly," Bob laughed ; " and like an Irishman I
went in for the fighting. I stood a pretty fair chance to
revolute one of those republics down there and make a
real government of it, but I slipped up on my reform
movement and lit on the cold, hard floor of a disagreea'ole
prison, with a notice served on me that within ten days I
would be permanently out of the reformation business. I
knew what was coming to me and began preparations to
close up. The reformer, when he is down, hasn't much
of a show in a South American republic, and I was down
Lcood and hard. I hadn't a chance that I knew of, and

composed mysell like a patriot and martyr to take what-
ever was offered. The days preceding the last sad scene
were — however, I don't like to talk about that time, and
I guess I'll turn the story over to Mrs. O Leary ; she
knows enough of it to tell it straight."

" It is very simple," said ]\Irs. O'Leary, continuing her
husband's story, with an accent so characteristic that any
attetTipt to put it into written words would be sacrilege.
*• You know it was the general's daughter who saved Mr.
O'Leary 's life."

" Not the daughter of the general who was to kill
him ?" my wife broke in impulsively.

"Yes," said Mrs. O'Leary.

"How romantic !" cried my wife.

"Yes," continued Mrs. 0'Le;iry ; " for the government
did not want to really kill Mr. O'Leary. He was an Ameri-
can citizen, and such are not to be killed without very e.x-
cellent cause. So they arranged that when the others
were to be shot Mr. O'Leary was to be missed. It was a
very great secret, and they thought they would frighten
Mr. O'Leai-y so badly that he would never more be in
trouble of that kind. And no doubt they would have
frightened him to death and he would not have been in
any more trouble "

"On earth," interrupted Mr. O'Leary.

" For," continued his wife, nodding approvingly at the
interruption, " the shock would have killed him. But it
was not to be so. The general's daughter learned the

secret and sent word to hini by a faithful servant what
was to be done and warned him to prepare for it. He
passed through the ordeal safely, but the strain was sa
great that he fainted quite away, and those who saw the
e.xecution thought he was dead, and "

" So did I," ventured the rescued one.

" And they were about to put him in the ditch," his-
wife went on, " when one of the officers requested to send
the body to Mr. O'Deary's house. There he was revived, and
in a few days he had escaped from the city and the coun-
try, which was what the authorities were wishing he
would do."

" And the general's daughter — what became of her ?""
asked my wife without giving Mrs. O'Leary the slightest
chance to go on.

" She waited till times were easier," said O'Leary,
taking up his story again, " and then he went back under
an amnesty act. In the meantime the general had
died "

"Oh, how glad I am I" e.xclaimed my wife, clapping-
her hands as if she were applauding a situation in a
melodrama.

Mrs. O'Leary looked at her in astonishment and with
severe seriousness.

" You shouldn't speak so of the father in the daugh-
ter's presence," she said; and O'Leary actually laughed ii»
the rudest manner at my wife's utter discomfiture.

So did I, for that matter.

AX I^^poRT.\^:T role.

Sammy — " What did you do when you was an actor?"
Wiley Willie—- I wuz de tank in • De Dark Secret.'

EVERYBODY— BUT FATHER.

" Say, Nettie ; is that what you call su'thin' to eat?"

•' 7hev''^ni"' W ';'"^"g'." ^-f^«l'nient. papa. Everybody takes a little, you know."
i hey do ? Well, give it to yer mother over there. She can't see a joke, neither "

King of UnadiUa Goes Bowling

By Howard R. Garis

ODDS FISH-HOOKS !" exclaimed the king of
Unadilla. "Things are about as lively
here as a Quaker meeting after election.
Why don't some of you past-performances
m the shape of animated hair-pins get up
a five-o'clock tea ?" — and the merry mon-
arch scowled in the direction of the
-drawer of the corks, the lord of the treasury and the secre-
itary of the interior, the latter being court cook.

" May it please your serene salubriousness," began the
• drawer of the corks, " what would you have ?"

" Anything ! Anything to keep things in this little
two-by-four kingdom from getting paresis," replied the
king of Unadilla " Why, even the dogs in the street
don't bark at the moon, and there hasn't been an arrest in
3l month. Can't you shake 'em up a bit ?"

" Shake 'em up?" inquired the lord of the treasury,
^vho belonged to the old regime.

" Yep !" snapped the sovereign. " Wobble 'em a bit,
•set 'em up in the other alley, put in a new spark-plug, fill
•up the reservoirs, throw in the high-speed gear and let
the gasoline gig gallop ! Things are too slow !"

"Oh, you want a little excitement, perhaps," retorted
the drawer of the corks.

" You ought to contribute to the puzzle-page of a Sun-
day supplement, you're so bright," spoke the king in his
sarcastic voice. " First you know you'll be doping out
the first three under the wire !"

The three counselors looked somewhat alarmed, for
when the king was in this mood he was liable to do most
.anything and require the members of his court to do like-
vrise, which sometimes led to unpleasant results.

For things were run on a sort of independent plan in
the kingdom of Unadilla, and oft-times the monarch be-
came a very boy in searching after pleasure, at which
times he frequently made his courtiers resemble beings
<who have been handed fruit from the citrus limonum tree.

" Well .''" snapped the ruler.

There was an anxious pause, and the three counselors
ilooked at one another.

" Say something — you're the oldest," whispered the
-drawer of the corks to the lord of the treasury.

" Would — would you like to have another poker-
iparty ?" asked the aforesaid lord.

"Not unless I'm drugged !" exclaimed the king. He
had an unpleasant recollection of the last seance, where
having, after — by some manipulation — secured a straight
flush, he fell to four aces when the pot had been well
sweetened. And thereby the lord of the treasury profited,
as he held the double duet of lonely spots.

" How about a masquerade ?" ventured the drawer of
.the corks. " We used to have lots of fun at them."

" Tag ! You're it !" exclaimed the king with a sar-

castic attempt at playfulness. " Masquerades 1 Oh, slush !
Why not a party — the kind where you bring peanuts or
oranges, scramble in the parlor and sing out when the
girl comes in, 'Surprise on Kittie !' Oh, but you are the
bright eyes, though '."

All of which was rather hard on the court officials, as
they were doing their best. The trouble was the king
was passfi. He didn't call it just that. In fact, he wouldn't
have known the disease under that name. He would
probably have called it the pip or an attack of the dink-
botts. But he wanted amusement, and, being a monarch,
he was going to have it.

" Well," he said, after a long and somewhat painful
silence, •■ it's a case of cut for deal with you gazaboos.
I've shuffled the cards, and it's a blind trump."

" Meaning what, your serene side-stepper .■"" asked the
lord of the treasury.

•' Meaning that it's strictly elevated in your direction.
Do you need a map to find out where you're at ?"

Once more silence fell, broken only by the ticking of
the alarm-clock, from which the king had removed the bell,
as it awakened him early on the wrong mornings, and
late on the right ones.

" I'll give you the regulation three days to think up a
new game," the monarch went on. " It's got to be some-
thing lively, and one that will give the blues the go-by
like a ninety-horse-power choo-choo chariot leaving a
Brooklyn perambulator behind, or it's all of you to the
axe. Go ! the king has spoken I"

Then the ruler of Unadilla, reaching in his hip-pocket
for another gold -tipped Egyptian, imported from the
Bowery, cleverly blew smoke-rings and began dealing
himself a solitaire hand from a stacked deck. ■

In silence the three courtiers withdrew. They had
been placed in the same unpleasant position before, but
iiad managed to wiggle out, with more or less of. their
reputations left. Now it seemed a little more difficult,
since they had exhausted all the amusement enterprises
they could think of.

Still the king must be obeyed, or there would be father-
less families in Unadilla.

" What shall we do ?" asked the lord of the treasury.

" Let's have a drink 1" exclaimed the drawer of the
corks. " Maybe we can think better then."

Seated about a round table in the Royal Peacock there
might have been seen, a little later, three figures, from
the midst of which there sounded ever and anon,

" I'll have the same."

At intervals, in the brain - enlivening process, there
sounded a subdued roar in some part of the Royal Peacock.
At first the three courtiers were oblivious to it. Finally
the lord of the treasury lifted his head.

" What's that ?" he asked.

■UoJ

•• Some Jiew game they've put in," replied the secretary
of the interior. " You throw a ball down at a lot of pins
set up at the end of a long alley, and if you knock 'em all
down you get a good mark."

" And if you miss ?" inquired the drawer of the corks.

" Then some one yells ' poodle ' at you."

For a time the three sat bowed in silent thought.
Then, all at once, the same idea came to them.

"The king I" they e.xclaimed as one man. " Why not
try this on him !"

" The very thing !" said the lord of the treasury. " That
will make him look like a last year's rubber boot with the
lining out. He makes me tired, all the while putting it
up to us to do the merry ha, ha ! for him. Why don't the
back number of a race-track dope-book get out a new
edition himself once in a while?"

" How will you work it ?" asked the drawer of the
corks.

" Easy," replied the lord of the treasury. " We'll go
up against this game ourselves and practice a bit."

•■ Yes."

" Then we'll invite him down here to a match."

"Well?"

"Then we'll put it all over him and make him seem
like a kindergarten kid playing Rugby. It
will be as easy as extracting saccharine
concoctions from a non compos mentis."

Then the three conspirators laughed
in silent glee, nudged each other in the
short ribs, and each one ordered " the
same." They strolled out to the bowling-
alley. Being something of an innovation
in Unadilla there were only a few twirling
the spheroids. The courtiers watched them
closely. After a while the lord of the treas-
ury went to the proprietor and held a short
conversation with him. The sound ot
something clinking from the palm of one to
the other was heard.

" Have it your own way, " the proprietor
was heard to remark. " I don't feel any
too friendly to him since he raised the ex-
cise ta.x and enforced the Sunday-closing
law. But don't get me' mixed up in it."

•' Never fear," spoke the lord of the
treasury.

For several hours that night, when all
the rest of the world'was asleep, the sound
of balls rumbling down the alleys might
have been heard, mingling with t!ie crash
of falling pins. The three conspirators were
practicing.

At first they were about as bad as they
come. Into the gutters they went, or else
the balls would go down the centre and
then gracefully curve off, just brushing the
corner pin. But the three were earnest
and after a while they did fairly well.

They kept at it, on and off, for two
days, paying for the e.xclusive use of the
alleys. Then, early in the morning of the

last day of grace, more or less frayed to a frazzle, they
went home.

" We'll tell him we have something amusing for his
royal rustiness when he holds court after sunrise," the
drawer of the corks announced. " We will not say ex-
actly what it is, but invite him to \xy a game of skill and
strength. " He'll never think of the necessity for practice,
lie's so all-fired stuck on his muscles and form. We're not
so much ourselves, but if we can't give him one hundred
points and beat him I'm a last year's edition of the book
of royal favors. " «

" Easy, easy," muttered the secretary of the interior,
wondering what he would give the king for breakfast to
make him good natured.

Court assembled in due form, with the king upon his
gold ciid ivory throne, carelessly smoking a gold-tipped
cigarette. He heard petitions from such of his subjects
as objected to barking dogs, crowing roosters, or the noise
the milkmaids caused as they went singing to their tasks
in the dewy morn, chanting bucolic lays ere thej- brought
from the royal stables the lacteal fluid from imported Jer-
seys. After routine business was over the king said,
" Well, little ones, what have ye ?"
The tones were pleasant enough, but the courtiers
knew there was a veiled threat be-
hind them, and happy were they
that they had that which might serve
to appease their monarch's wrath.

"Come, come, bright-eyes,"
quoth the monarch, looking at the
drawer of the corks, but speaking
at the other two, " don't be
bashful now. Speak your
little piece. The wielder of
the axe is in waiting. He

BY MEASUREMENT.
Helen Hipi'O — '■Goodness, mother! how narrow-minded he must be!"

" Stay I" exclaimed ihe king as the courtiers were about to leave. " Cause a
notice to be posted on the royal bulletin-board, stating that the king will meet
all comers. I don't know much about the game, but, from what you tell me,
it seems to need strength and skill, both of which I am modest enough to think
I possess. It is well that my liege subjects should see that their king can do
these things. If a war comes they will rest easy, knowing that I am at the
head of the troops. It is well, I have spoken. Go !"

And they went, hardly able to conceal their gleeishness.

" What ?" asked the drawer of the corks. " Maybe he didn't rise to it !"

•• Like a hungry trout in Mayfly time," responded the secretary of the interior.

AN EX-IT.

hasn't had his breakfast and he's al-
ways real sassy on an empty stom-
ach."

"If you please, supremely sumptu-
ous sire," began the lord of the treas-
ury, " we think we have found some-
thing to amuse your imperial top-
ioftiness and cause you to forget
your weariness.'

"Good !" exclaimed the monarch.
"Spoken like a real lady. What is
it?"

Then, in faltering accents, as
though he feared to incur the dis-
pleasure of his royal master, the lord
of the treasury unfolded his little
scheme. He told how there was a
sort of ball-rolling play that had re-
cently been invented, which might
serve to while away a few hours.

" Good !" exclaimed t h e king.
" Methinks I will like that. Tell me,
can we play for wagers ?"

"Yes," replied the lord ot the
treasury, trying to conceal his glee.

"Then arrange a game for three
nights hence," remarked the king.

" Yes, sire."

CONFIDENTI.\L.
The golf girl— •■ Julm seems to have foozled in making love to me. '
The auto girl—- Well, sometliing 's gone wrong with my sparker, too.'

^6^

liELATED KNOWLEDGE,
ilow long did you know your wife before you married her ?"
• Oh, I didn't know her at all. I only Ihoiight I did."

*' Wait until he gets on the alleys and makes a few
poodles," spoke the lord of the treasury. " Hell wish he
hadn't been so hungry to eat 'em alive."

In due time the notice of the royal bowling game was
posted. There was no need to invite a crowd to come.
The people always flocked to the scene whenever the
king gave a performance. The news spread all over the
kingdom and the papers were full of it. There were pic-
tures of the king showing fifty-seven different poses,
sketches of the alleys and of the balls. Also there were
likenesses of the three courtiers.

Just as they had suspected, the king did not go near
the alleys. He thought he needed no practice. On the
other hand, the conspirators spent all their spare time in
play, und were getting in rare form.

The day on the evening of which the game was to be
played the bowling-alleys
were closed. The propri-
etor explained he was get-
ting them in readiness for
the contest — that they had
to be rubbed down and
polished, new balls fur-
nished, the pins leveled
off, and many little 'details
looked after.

There was a deal ot
hammering and pound-
ing in the place, and if
one could have peered in-
side he would have thought
the alleys were being tak-
en apart, ruber than be-
ing prepared for a match.
Down the centre of each
one a strip of the narrow
boards was being taken
up. Several w o r k ni e n

were busy, and a short,
stout chap, in greasy over-
alls and » jumper, seemed
to he givireg orders.

Now and then he went
down cellar and busied
himself over some wires,
coils, and what not, con-
necting them to the elec-
iric-light circuit.

Clearly Tiiatters were
going to be put intO' ex-
cellent shape for the bowl-
ing game in which the
king of Unadilla waS' to
take part. The lord of
the treasury, the drawer
of the corks, and the sec-
retary of the interior went
about with smiles on their
faces. Now and then they
would drop into the bar
of the Royal Peacock and
order more of the same.
So great was ihe throng that besieged the doors of the
bowling alley that the entire police force of Unadilla was
called out to keep order. As many as could found seats in
the tier arranged for spectators. Others stood up. About
eight o'clock the monarch drove up in his golden chariot.
"Greeting, most noble sire !" cried the populace.
" Howdy ! ' replied the king airily.
Whereat the assemblage cheered itself hoarse.
By dint of much squeezing a passage-way was made
for the king. The lord of the treasury, the drawer of the
corks and the secretary of the interior were already on
hand. They were throwmg a few practice balls down
the alleys.

" Ah, there you are !" exclaimed the king playfully.
" We'll chase a few down toward the squatty timber our-
selves."

ENVV.
M.\GGIE Mermaid— " Ain't lie lian'sume? Jes' to think, Mayme. ne might have bin
in her place if we w as borned on land !"

il'

He tried to throw a sphere to find the pocket between
the head pin and number two, but it went into the gutter.

■' Poodle !" muttered the lord of the treasury.

•• I don't see any dog !" e.xclaimed the king, looking
behind him.

" He means you made a miss," explained the keeper ot
the alleys in gentle tones.

■' Oh," spoke the monarch ; ■■ well, it won't happen
again."

But it did, and there were broad smiles on the faces
of the three conspirators, who tried hard to conceal their
glee.

" Easy, eh .'" snickered the lord of the treasury, dig-
ging the drawer of the corks under his floating ribs.

Indeed, it did look dark for the king of Unadilla. His
ignorance of the game, his lack of practice, and his con-
tempt for his courtiers were like to prove his undoing.
Nevertheless, the monarch showed no fear.

••Well," he remarked in tones that tried to be light
and airy, " it may not be so easy as it looks, but you'll

S.\FE.

The Re\'Eresd Silently BfTTix — ■•My little man, why are you not in school ?'
Little man — •' My ma said for me to run out and play, so I ain't goin'."
The Rev. S. B. — •• But supp<jse the teacher licks you?"
Little man — •'• She won't ; 'cause ma can lick the teacher."
The Rev. S. B. — •• How do you know?" .
LiiTLE MAN — " 'Cause ma can lick pa."

not find me playing the part of the individual who lives on
bottled nourishment. I'm game. To prove it I'll put up
five hundred scaldeens against one hundred that I do
either of you three fuzzy-hided specimens of the tadpole
age !"

" You're on !" cried the lord of the treasury.
• ' Same here 1" from the drawer of the corks and the
secr«ary of the interior.

" Money talks," remarked the king, handing his over
to the proprietor of the alleys, who locked the one thou-
sand five hundred scaldeens up in "his safe. The others
quickly covered it.

" It's a shame to do it," spoke the drawer of the corks.
The preliminaries of the games were soon amnged.
The four contestants were to roll across on two alleys,
each man for himself. The king was up against the three
individually. The excitemSnt was at its height. The
new electric lights glowed with great brilliance.

•' No objection to my using this ball I purchased for the
occasion, is there ?" asked the king, producing a sphere.
" Not in the least," assured the secre-
tar)- of the interior, wondering what he
could give the king for breakfast to make
him forget the defeat that stared liim in
the face.

The game was on. The lord of the
treasury rolled first on number-one alley,
with the drawer of tiie corks on number
two. The lord got nine and the keeper
seven. Then came the secretary of the
interior, who made an e.isy spare.

It was now the king's turn. Boldly he
stepped to the fore. There was a shining
look in his eye.

" 'Tis a shame to see him lose — to wit-
ness cur beloved monarch being made
sport of," whispered an old retainer.

•• Husii '. He has brought it on him-
self," replied a soldier from the palace.

The king negligently knocked the ash
from his gold-tipped cigarette. Then,
stoop ng low, holding the ball firmly, he
swung it once, twice, thrice, and sent it
sliding down the alley.

It was a side ball. Starting in a little
to the left of the right edge, it gradually
curved over, crossing the head pin and
landing right in the " pocket," between
number one and number two. There
was a musical crash as the ten hard pins
were bowletl over.

" A strike ! a strike I" cried the mob,
enlivened into sudden enthusiasm. " The
king has made a strike ! "

" Odds fish-hooks ! So I have 1" re-
marked the monarch. " Must have been
an accident," and he looked fixedly At
the three conspirators.

" He certainly did fluke into it," mut-
tered the secretary- of the interior. "I
wonder if he is handing us another citr jn.

^((

Then the game became furious. The lord of the treas-
ury and the drawer of the corks began to improve. They
made several strikes and a number of spares. The secre-
tary of the interior did likewise. But the very spirit of
bowling seemed to have entered the king.

His first strike was followed by a second, then a third
fourth and fifth. The crowd began to sit up and take
notice. • The three conspirators saw visions of their money
insthe pocket of their monarch.

"But I tell you it can't last," insisted the drawer oi
the corks to the lord of the treasury. •■ He don't know
anything about bowling. It's all luck. He'll poodle in
the next frame."

Instead, the king made a strike. It was the secretary
of the treasury who poodled.' The king could not seem
to miss. On either alley he was equally at home. With
a grace that came natural he sent the balls down, a little
to the side. Over they slid, into the pocket, and a strike
resulted.

netic strip down to where the strikes were. I guess you
couldn't lose."

" And the balls of the others went whither they listed,"
mused the king.

" Of course. I only closed the circuit when I got your
signal, as you stepped on the little button at the side of
the alley," remarked the short, stout chap.

Then something that clinked with a musical sound
passed from the king's hand to the greasy but lionest
palm of the short, stout chap.

" It was a great idea," mused the king. " Without it
they would have beaten me, and my name would have
been a by-word in the land of Unadilla: But, once more
has the king triumphed !"

.And then the ruler of Unadilla went back to his goblet
of mi.xed ale, his Roquefort cheese and crackers.

Queer Facts for Thought.

It was the last frame. The king had not made a A YOUNG man fond of dancing took a pedometer with
ak. He had already won the game, and it was only a him to a ball and found that in the course of the

break

question of who was going to be low man. The king
finished with three strikes, making the highest possible
score — three hundred. The lord ot the treasury got one
hundred and seventy-si.x, the drawer of the corks one hun-
dred and eighty-five, and the secretary of the interior one
hundred and fifty-two.

" The king wins ! Long live the king ! " cried the pop-
ulace, and, had he not been a monarch, they would have
ridden him on their shoulders.

" How about it ?" asked the monarch of the three con-
spirators as he pocketed their three hundred scaldeens, as
well as his own. •■ How does little Willie off the motor-
boat feel now ?"

•' We have nothing to say, sire," replied the lord of the
treasury, through his clinched teeth. " You put it all
over us."

" Gave you the grand kibosh,
in other words, eh ?" spoke the
monarch, and the three courtiers
bowed in assent. Then they went
into outer darkness.

Later that night a short, stout
■chap, in greasy overalls and a
jumper, called at the private door
of the king's apartment.

" Did it work all right .'" asked
he of the king.

" Like a charm. I couldn't
miss."

" No ; I guess not," replied
the short, stout chap. " You see,
I had a long, steel magnet right
down the alleys, under the thin
layer of wood. The magnet led
right into the pocket. Your bowl-
ing-ball was a hollow steel one.
When you gave me the signal I
just closed the electric circuit,
and your ball couldn't do any
thing else but follow the mag-

evening he had covered thirteen and a half miles. An-
other young man, who reads this paper, placed a pedome-
ter on his stomach, and found that he laughed over si.x
hundred miles from the first to the last page.

By pasting a bit of paper on the eyelid a photographic
record has been made of the duration of time required in
winking the eye. It has been found that a wink requires
one-third of a second, which proves scientifically that,
after all, it isn't a very great waste of time to wink at a
pretty girl.

In San Domingo there is a remarkable salt mountam,
a mass of crystalline salt almost four miles long, said to
contain nearly ninety million tons, and to be so clear that
medium-sized print can be read with ease through a block
a foot thick. All the houses built on this hill have salt
cellars under ihem.

HIS MISFORTUNE.
Near-sighted pedestri.^n—'- Confound you! that's what you told me before. I tell
you I walked three miles in that direction and couldn't find a sign of the place."

•^/i

Billy's Beeattitoods.

LESSUD iz thee cat what iz
not black, for it iz not bad
luck.

Blessud iz thee snaik,
for it don't have enny corns
onn its feat.

Blessud iz thee Krist-
yun sientissed, for hee nev-
ver noes when hee iz hui t.

Blessud iz thee 1 a i m
mann, for peepul can't tell
whenn hee iz staggering.

Blessud iz thee mann
with long whiskurz, for hee
don't haf too bi necktize.

Blessud iz thee mann
with a short throte, for it izn't
soe badd whenn it is so.=ir.
Blessud is thee mann with small ize, for not verry
mutch dust can git in um.

Blessud iz thee mann with sighed whiskurz, for hee
haz reeched thee limmit.

Blessud iz the wooman whoo haz lost her hed, for shea
don't nead to bi a noo halt.

Blessud iz thee mann with a muther-in-law, for hadeez
haz no lerrers for hymn.

Blessud iz thee mann whoo iz in jale, for hee don't hai
too bi enny cole for next wintur.

Blessud iz thee wooman whoo can cri eezy, for verrily
shee alwaiz gets whot shee goze afftur.

Blessud iz thee mann whoo doze not smoak, for hee
can spend hiz munney onn sum other vice.

Blessud iz thee mann whoo can reed frentch, for hee
can tell whot hee iz eeting in a swell hotell.

Blessud iz the oled made, for shee don't haf to worry
abowt whear hir huzband iz att nite.

Blessud iz thee mann with thee balled hed, foi hee
don't nead to waist enny time comeing hiz hare.

Blessud iz thee wooman whoo' chose gum, for whenn
shee iz chooing gum shee iz not chooing thee rag.

WILL REED DUNROY,

The World.

THEY tell us in our childhood days
The world is round, and we,
With youthful heedlessness, accept
The doctrine easily.

When we are grown to man's estate

We are so overwrought
With constant struggling we've no time

To give its shape a thought.

At last, when we approach the end

And see how small a lot
Of stuff we've gathered as compared

With what some folks have got,

What we were told comes back, and we
Are quite prepared to swear

Whatever other shape it has.
It surely isn't square.

\V. J. LAMPTON.

ITTLE men measure themselves with foot-rules three
' inches lona:.

WHERE THE DAYS AND NIGHTS ARE SIX MONTHS LONG.
The madam—" Where have you been all tliis time? Tell me instantly !"
The master—" Why, dear, it hasn't been so long."
The madam—" How dare you say that? Why, you've stayed out all NIGHT !"

<l.l ''

A Case of Identity

to
You
Then he

HE was twins ; so was he.

She answered to the name of
Miss Fay. Her parents had named
them Margaret and Dorothy, but
called them Daise and Dot.

He was known as Mr. Clark,
baptized Herbert and Albert.

She had lived all their lives in
a pleasant college town, and was
known to all the inhabitants there-
of as the Fay twins. No one pre-
tended to know how to tell her apart. She had just at-
tained to the dignity of college treshmen, and were prettier
than ever.

He had just come to college as freshmen, and nobody
knew him except as " those twin freshies," or " those fresh
twinnies."

Naturally, belonging to the same class, they met, and
it was at a reception for the new students. The committee
was overwhelmed with the numbers, the new faces, and
the responsibilities, and each tried to do the work of two.
One, to save time and not expose his ignorance of their
identity, introduced these twins double.

"Miss Fay," he said with a low bow, '• allow me
present to you, both of you, Mr. Clark, both of them,
are all twins, so you can get acquainted easily."
rushed away to look after some other unknown.

He looked at her and she looked at him, both at both
of them. She smiled in duet ; he smiled ditto. They
made a quartette of rippling laughter and were acquainted.
This was the beginning. From that day what so natural
as that the twins should accompany the twins from one
recitation to another, should escort them home, should
take them to lectures, call upon them, drive with them — in
short, be the chummiest kind of chums ?

Now, there is a curious fact in regard to twins. They
look precisely alike to you until some day you discover a
difference, and they never look alike to you again when
you see them together ; but if you see one it is sure to be
the other one.

So these twins speedily were
able to tell themselves all apart,
but having been introduced
double they knew not their singu-
lar names. And though they
knew perfectly well which usually
walked with which, and preferred
which to t'other, how couW .Albert
find out if his preference were
Daise or Dot ? And how could
Daise know if hers were Albert
or Herbert ? There was no one
but themselves to tell any of them,
and, like all twins, they had fallen
into a most reprehensible habit
just on purpose to mystify people.
They never called each other by
their full names, but Mr. Clark

doubled on Bert, and Miss Fay call" ' both halves sister.
So they succeeded in mystifying eac.i other, and no one
dared ask anpther, " Who are you ?"'

It mattered little for some time, but as the tertn-end
drew nigh he grew anxious, then distressed. Of course
Albert fully intended to know the name of his lady, and
Herbert was as eager on the same quest.

Then each wrote a letter with a tender verse, and asked
the privilege of a vacation correspondence. To mail the
letters was easy. But a disturbmg thought flashed upon
each just in time to block this method. How could Albert
be sure that his letter ought to go to Daise or Dot ? Same
way with Herbert. In short, which was the girl lie adored ?
Evidently the letters would not do. The term-end was to
be celebrated with a grand reception and a dance. The
puzzle must be solved before that august event. There
were only two weeks left. Nearer and nearer came the day.
The thought possessed them day and night ; studies were
neglected for the one study ; recitations were poor, worse,
worst. She opened her eyes at him every day, but felt
sure that something must be really wrong, for " he can do
so well, you know."

It was the day before the reception, and he had gone
to see her in a last desperate hope of learning her name.
He thought one of him might possibly muster courage to
ask one of her point-blank was she Miss Dorothy or Miss
Margaret. To his suprise the small brother answered his
ring.

" Hullo ! ' was his formal greeting. " Walk in. Dot's
in the parlor. I'll go call Daise."

Glory hallelujah ! The secret was out ! Bless that
boy ! In feverish eagerness he entered the parlor. His
long agony was over. Albert smiled happily at his love,
and Herbert, with a sigh of relief, seated himself to wait
for his lady fair.

But why didn't that small brother go .' Why did he
hang around ? Herbert could see no reason for his loiter-
ing. What was his astonishment to feel a quick nudge at
his elbow and hear the boy whisper, " Say, give me your
card, won't you ?" And it was not till the boy was out of

<Ll

T.?EpJt

tw>S

ALLOW ME TO PRESENT TO VOl', BOTH OF YOU, MR. CLARK, BOTH OF THEM.

the room that it dawned on him what it was for. Then
he smiled. So there had been two sides — yes, four sides
— to the puzzle. If Daise and Uot had mystified Albert
and Herbert they in turn had been as hopelessly at sea.
Then he smiled again, for, lo ! woman's wit had made the
thing simple when the time came. Daise came now and
saw the giver of the card waiting for her. " How are
you, Mr. Herbert ?" was her laughing welcome. " So you
are Albert ?" broke from Dot on the other side of the
room. The twins were acquainted.

M. C. KITTREDGE.

Pride.

(( VES, madam," said the physician ; " your little daugh-
ter's foot seems to have been bruised severely, that
is all. Probably she struck it against a stone, or the wall.
At any rate, you need not worry. I would suggest that
you apply the old-fashioned remedy — a bread-and-milk
poultice."

" How common !" murmured the proud mamma, whose
husband, by the way, had just succeeded in turning
another million-dollar trick in stocks. " Bread-and-milk
poultice ! Doctor, don't you think it would be more in
accord with our position in society if we used a poultice
cf cake and ice-cream ?"

On the Installment Plan.

(( UIOW can your folks afford to have so many children,
' ' Bobby ?" we ask the little boy.
" "Well, we don't get 'em all at once ; we get 'em a
little at a time, on the installment plan," he replies. '

As Ever.

/^LD winter, wrapped in furs, has passed away
^-^ And gentle spring has come — in neglige.

Upon the dear departed we bestow

One sneeze in memory of its ice and snow,
Then flaunt our shirt-waists where the sunbeams play-
But hark ! What sound is here — what note
Rasp out from open-worked and laced-garbed throat?

Upon the smiling spring we throw

A look suspicious ; then we go
And bring our flannels back from trunks remote.

LURANA W. SHELDON.-

Scooping up the Wreckage.

THE owner of the racing automobile was a novpce at the'
sport. Naturally, he felt rather mystified when the
expert driver handed him the following bill on the morn-
ing after the race :

Gasoline $ 60.00

Repairs to car 700.00

Cutting expenses 1,000.00

$1,760 00
"What the deuce," said the amateur owner, " is the
meaning of this item, ' Cutting expenses' ?"

"Oh, that," observed the chauffeur carelessly, "repre-
sents the surgeon's fee for renovating my mechanic."

Took First Prize.

H \AV dog took first prize at a cat-show."
" How was that ?"
" He took the cat." '

TOO MUCH FOR HIM.
The elephant — " So your marriage with IVIiss Grizzly Bear was an unhappy one?"
The hippo — " I should say so. No matter how hard I worked for her she did nothing but growl from
morning till night."

h^ (V^-S^

U/7

A Few Uplifting Remarks on Spring

SPRING is with us once more, and the heart is glad.
It was a long, severe winter, and the exposure was
something frightful ; but now, glory be ! that is all
past, or near-past, and we have the almost joyous
feeling again as if we were real people. Most of us have
been investigated, or else we have been investigating others,
and the biting blasts pro and con have been very hard on
the health ; but, thanks to rugged constitutions, most of
us have pulled through. Some fell through, if they did
not pull through ; but they got through and that's the
main thing. .The earth onoe more smiles with the beauty
of all green and growing things, and congress is talking
of adjournment, so that we have ,every reason to feel that
the worst is over. Wherever the eye rests to-day some
cheering sight rewards its effort to rest at that point, and
from far-away Jolo to the remotest confines of Coney Island
there is a languorous note of e.xpectancy, a dreamy, wait-
ing hush, and just the merest
hint of a ripening blush, as we
look for the first bathing-suit to
glide shiveringly but with firm
tread across the glistening, golden
sands. The wide-embracing vault
of blue now lifts itself in azure
magnificence on invisible columns
of cobalt and erythrite, and a
glorious sense of expense and
reckless disregard of cost prevails
on every hand. Down in the
barnyard stands a beautiful hen
palpitant, in feathers of chryso-
prase and charcoal drifted with
snow, and her song is ol the eggs
of Carrara whiteness or wheat-
rust brown which she has offered
her owner with every show ol
effortless joy and unselfish devo-
tion to mankind. The hills

(wherever there are hills) are

now robed in garments of lus-
trous enchantment, and the farmer places salt-licks at
convenient intervals in fields dotted with lowing kine.
The modest dandelion lifis its head on the lawn, and
the owner thereof whetteth the carving-knife, so that in
due season he may hew said dandelion off at the root

however, some of Nature's beauty spills over and we get
the crumbs— and for this we are thankful. Yea, we are
almost glad. ,. ^^.

Effectual.

(( IVI'^-''- JONES put something in her husband's coffee
to make him stop drinking."
" Did it stop him from drinking V
" Well, it stopped him from drinking coffee." '

It Depended.

Wife — " How do you like my new Easter gown ?"■
Husband — " Let me see the bill for it."

THERE is no more insufferable bore than the man who
has so much common sense that he has no imagina-

Sounded Like an Opera.

ILiY FRIEND stutters badly. He
can sing divinely, but when
he attempts conversation he
sounds like a battery of rapid-fire-
guns.

The other day I saw him walk
over and take up the telephone.
This was the conversation :

" Number ?" asked Central.

" B-b-bbub-bub-bla-blank "

said Smith, and stopped.

" Number ?" (wearily.)

" Bub-bub-b-b-bla-blank s-s-
sev-sev-seven f-four t-t-two."

"NUMBER?" (sharply.)

He tried it again and managed'
it after a fashion.

B-r-r-r-rak-RAK— •• Hello !"

" Hel-hel-hello ! Is that y-
you, M-mum-mum-miss J-Jones ?"

"Yes. Is that you, Mr_
Smith ?" came over the wire.

" Y-yes. G-g-good-even-n-n-evening. W-w.w-w-will
you g-g-g-gug-gug-gug-go-go — w-w-will you gug-gug-
gug-gug "

Poor Smith gasped, gurgled and wiped the perspiration ■
and utterly destroy it forever. Thus the procession of from his brow ; then his face brightened, and he sang the

following into the 'phone to the tune of " Solomon Levi " :;

" I've got two elegant tickets

For Friday evening's show.
I'd like to have you there with me — I

Miss Ethel, will you go ?"

Presently a hysterical voice crept back over the wire.
" Why, sure ! But at first I thought you were the open-
ing overture, Dick." lowell otus rehse.

awakening loveliness moves across the earth in a pageant
of unrivaled splendor, and the " giddap " of the solitary
plowman echoes o'er the smoking furrows of the mead.
To the right of us, as we write, is a spreading glebe " for
sale," and to the left of us is another large, open section
of the earth's surface which is not ours ; but Nature is
smiling on everything just the same as if everybody were
good. Thus do we see how peculiar Nature is in all
her ways. We could almost wish we owned some of
Nature at this time, like the millionaires, but the price
is too extensive. In the richness of this glad Easter hour,

Tramp — " Lady, I am dying from exposure."
Woman — " Are you tramp, politician, or financier ?"

{^li

An Acrostic.

lUMPING about the country,
*' Looking for wrong and right,
Into each well-hid cranny
Nosing with all his might.
" Catching a crook a minute,

Opening many a sore ;
Losing no half-way cliance for
Naming one rascal more.
Seeing with optics ruthless,
Things the corrupt Would hide ;
Endlessly asking questions —
Fearless, 'tis not denied.
Finding a wealth of subjects
Everywhere he goes —
Now that you've read his ti le. •

See if 'tis who you s'pose ! s. w. g.

An Act of Charity.

Mother (during Lent) — " Well, Willie, I hope you have
4]one some charitable act to-day."

Son — " Yes, ma. I licked Johnny Bulger so bad that
fie won't be able to go to school again for a week."

Woman — " Now, if you don't leave at once I'll call my
husband — and he's an old Harvard football player." .

Tramp — "Lady, if yer love him don't call him out. I
(used to play wid Yale."

His Choice.

THERE was nothing wild in the caller's manner, so the
lady at the employment - bureau desk was rather
startled when he told his wants.

" I wish to engage a cook," he observed.

" Fancy or plain .'" she said.

" Plain — homely as 3in," he replied. " In fact, I don't
care whether she can cook or not. Any old thinjj^ that
looks like a cook will do."

..Really, I"

"And if "she drinks, smokes, or steals silver, so much
the better."

" Goodness me ! what "

" I specially desire that she be very strong and in the
habit of beating her employer with a club."

" L^pon my word ! '

" In short, I want a rampant, athletic, rip-roaring ter-
ror, and I can promise good wages."

The lady at the desk was begging Central to connect
her with the police department.

"Hold on !" explained the caller. "Allow me to say
that the domestic I seek will be in the employ of my wife's
mother."

((

I COULDN'T get a seat in the cars to-day."
"Oh, that's a complaint of long standing.'

COULD DO IT AGAIN.

Mr. Gotrox — " Suppose I were to tell you that I was a bankrupt— that every dollar of my fortune had been
swept away — would you still be willing to marry my daughter ?"

Cholly Softly (enthusiastically) — '• Why, of course I would ! Such a man as you could easily pitch in and
make another fortune, sir."

<^''?

Well Secured.

li/HEN a prominent
' American was in Eu-
rope last, the story goes,
he visited Westminster
Abbey for the first time.
As he was contemplating
the tomb of Nelson, the
guide said,

" That, sir, his the toml)
of the greatest naval 'ero
Europe or the whole world
never icnew — Lord Nel-
son's. This marble sar-
coughogus weighs forty-
two tons. .Hinside that his
a. steel receptacle weigh-
ing twelve tons, and hin-
side that his a leaden cas-
ket, 'ermetrically sealed,
weighing over two tons.
Hinside that his a mahog-
any coffin, 'oldjng the ash-
es of the great ero."

" Well," said the Ameri-
can, after thinking a while,
" I guess you've got him.
If he ever gets out of
that, cable me at my e.\-
pense."

ABBIE N. SMITH.

FLIRTATIOUS.
Life 's a jest, and all things sliow it.
I thought so once, and now I know it."

A Catch.

tl HOW did you and your wife first meet ?'
" Oh, we didn't meet," replied '^'
' she overtook me."

the meek little

INCREDULOUS.
Fairy — " And this noble prince will love you for yourself alone"
Up-to-date miss — " Oh, tell that to the marines."

The Roadside Text.

A SALVATION Army
•^ artist endeavored
to attract the attention
of the wicked world by
painting scriptural
vvarnipgs on the farm
fences along the high-
way. At one place he
inscribed t h e query,
" What shall I do to
be saved ?" The ne.\t
day a patent-medicine
advertiser came along
and wrote on the board
below, " Take Soand-
so's Pills." The follow-
ing day the Salvation-
ist was out that way
again' and he wrote be-
low, " And prepare to
meet thy God."

D.WID JULLS.

Mr. Hinkic Takes a Rest

By Wilbur Ncsbit

ZEBULON HINKLEhad finished his breakfast
ot crackers and milk, had looked fretfully
upon the cofTee when it was black and gave
forth its seductive odor, had gazed wistfully
upon the bacon and eggs, and had said a
few things about the physician who had
condemned him to two months' life in what
he called " this God - forsaken place." He had reached
the said place the evening before, and had been provided
with a room which contained a bed the which was as hard
as some newspapers had asserted Zebulon HinklS's heart
was. There being nothing — absolutely nothing — to do or
see during the evening, Zebulon Hinkle had gone to bed
at eight-thirty o'clock, and, after rolling and tossing for
what he believed to be five hours, he had gone to sleep at
nine o'clock, and had awakened at five. It was now
seven.

Mr. Hinkle walked out to the veranda of the little hotel
and looked idly upon the village street. He took a cigar
from his pocket and chewed upon it. The doctor told
him he must not smoke.

The city papers would not reach there until eleven in
the morning. Zebulon Hinkle sat down in a wide chair
and asked himself what kind of a place this was anyhow !
His doctor had told him he needed absolute rest. He
must let go of business cares ; he must confine himself to
a diet that was really adapted to a three-year-old child ;
he must not smoke ; he must not drink — he did not need
this instruction, for Zebulon Hinkle long ago had realized
that the pursuit of business interferes with drinking and
had given up the social glass — he must forget business,
and he must not worry. His doctor was the only man on
earth who could tell him something he must do, and get
away with it, Hinkle mused. He had given his word, and
he would do the two months' time, if it killed him ; be-
cause his doctor had said if he didn't do the two months'
time it would be sure to kill him. And Zebulon Hinkle
was not the man to give any one the satisfaction of read-
ing nis epitaph, if he could help it.

Mr. Hinkle might have had a whole morning of un-
alloyed rest, with nothing to do but contemplate the bees
that bustled in and out among the flowers, and the village
dray that aimlessly wandered down street and back again,
now with a kit of mackerel, now with a keg of nails, doing
its little best to create a hum of commerce. He might
have had the whole morning for this placid contemplation ol
the hustling bfees and the languid dray horse, and still more
languid drayman, had not the landlord held low-voiced
converse with a young man who wore a glittering watch-
chain across his bosom and allowed his hair to play Henry
Clay with his forehead.

" It's nobody else," the landlord told the young man,
who had drifted in to inquire if there was any news. " It's
old Zeb Hinkle, the same that gets cartooned and written
up every time a new railroad is merged. Yes, sir ; and
he's to stay here two months to get rid of the dyspepsia."

" Here ?" inquired the young man. " Here ? To get
rid of the dyspepsia ? Great Scott 1 Morgan, if anybody
was looking for the best place in the world to get dys-
pepsia I'd send him to your hotel."

The landlord laughed at the jest with the satisfied laugh
of a man who knows he has the only hotel in town.

" Why don't you interview him ?" he asked.

" What about ?" asked the young man. " He wouldn't
talk. He never does. Every time the big papers try to
get him to tell anything he doesn't care to be quoted."

" Maybe the big papers send young fools to interview
him — same sort of smart alecks as you are," suggested
the landlord thoughtfully.

The young man bridled up at this, then, without emit-
ting the caustic retort he had in mind, he turned about
and walked to the veranda.

•' Mr. Hinkle, I believe," he said, stopping in front of
that gentleman.

" You can pin your faith to that," observed Zebulon
Hinkle, without looking awav from a bee that was pump-
ing for dear life on a honeysuckle.

"Would you be good enough to give me an interview
for the Argus ?"

Mr. Hinkle looked up at this.

" What Argus ?" he demanded.

" The McCordsville Argus."

" Printed here .''"

" Yes, sir. I am the city editor."

" Is that so ?"

" Yes, sir. I am also the managing editor, the sport-
ing editor, the exchange editor, the religious editor, the
horse editor, the snake editor, the railway editor, the po-
litical editor, the fashion "

" That'll do. All of you sit down."

The young man sat down.

" What is the name of all these editors ?" Hinkle in-
quired.

" James Gordon."

" You must be sort of a "

" Sort of an editorial trust."

Mr. Hinkle laughed at this, and then said,

" I suppose you take your immunity bath in the creek,
do you ?"

" Every Saturday in the summer. In winter they open
the bath-tub in the rear ot the barber-shop."

" Good enough I Well, Mr. Gordon, does it keep you
busy getting news for the McCordsville Argus ?"

•' It would if there were any news to get. You are
about the only item that has happened since last week."

" And what do you want to write about me ? Got any
pictures of the iron heel of capital crunching the neck of
labor ? Got any bloated monopolists yanking bread and
butter away from starving children ?"

" No, sir. I think if you would give me a good talk
on how to succeed in the world it would really be a help
to the young men of this town. "

\;i,:!,,H

« *lif*l'.'f/,

•• W6rk."

" That's what they all say — but they don't
let you work at their jobs."

" Make your own job."

" Can't get a paymaster always."

" Well, advice doesn't help much."

" No. E.xample counts. Suppose, Mr.
Hinkle, you would simply tell me something
that will illustrate the best way to get ahead."

" You mean to make money when you
say ' to get ahead ' ? "

" Of course."

" Hum-m-m. Well, let me see."

Zebulon Hinkle contracted his brows and
his eyes took on a far-away look. He con-
templated the street studiously. Suddenly his
face cleared and he asked,

" Who owns that vacant ground across the railroad ?"

" Amos Ransom."

" Is it for sale ?"

" I suppose so. But what "

■" Do you know him ?"

•" Yes, sir. But you were going to "

■" I know it. I'm going to. You watch me. Can you
ifind Amos Ransom ?"

" I think so."

" Tell him to come and see me. I want to buy that
.land."

The reporter hurried away to convey the glad tidings
to Amos Ransom, and for* a quarter of an hour Zebulon
Hinkle sat and looked happy. Then Gordon brought
Ransom up on the veranda and introduced him to Mr.
Hinkle.

•' How much do you want for that ground over there
by the railroad ?"

Mr. Hinkle shot the question at Ransom so suddenly
that he was well-nigh taken off his feet. He sat down
and fanned himself with his hat. He had wanted to sell
that land for ten years, but never could find a purcnaser.
Ransom had taken it on a mortgage, as he had accumu-
lated nearly all his farms. He was considered the wealth-
iest man in McCordsville, and the meanest. But here
was some more of his confounded^luck ! Zebulon Hinkle
was going to buy that vacant land.

" It's worth considerable," Ransom managed to say.

"Is it worth two thousand dollars ?"

" No — er — yes, sir. It's worth at least that."

•'■ Bring me a deed to it and I'll give you a check.

THE ALTERNATIVE.
Captain of the Red Rover — " Go it, boys ! Business has been
so bad lately that if we don't bag that bloody liooker we will all have to
get into the summer-hotel biz."

And say," Hinkle added, " my young friend, Mr. Gordon,
gets his commission for making the sale, doesn't he ?"

Gordon listened with amazement.

"Commission ?" Ransom asked wonderingly. "Why,
he hasn't done anything."

" Oh, yes, he has. He got me interested in it. He
gets ten per cent, commission, doesn't he ?"

"Why, if you think he ought to have it, I suppose he.
must."

Ransom shed inward tears over the prospect of trust-
ing young Gordon with such a huge sum at his age ; it
was too great a financial responsibility for such a youth ;
it was thrusting temptation in his way — but the land was
worth perhaps eight hundred, so he might as well agree
to the foolish proposition.

" All right, then," Hinkle said, conclusively. " Bring
the deed and get the money. And say, Gordon, you be
on hand and get your commission."

At four o'clock that afternoon all rights, title, heredita-
ments, jointures, incumbrances and everything else con-
nected with the vacant land passed into the ownership of
Zebulon Hinkle, and at the same time a check for two
hundred dollars, signed by Amos Ransom, was handed to
James Gordon.

" I'm sure I'm much obliged," Gordon said, after Ran-
som had gone on his way rejoicing. " I never dreamed
of such a stroke of luck as tliis. You are more than
kind, Mr. Hinkle."

" Tut, tut ! You deserved the commission. Besides,
I'll bet you're the first man that ever made any profit off
of that man Ransom."

BRE.\KING THE INFATUATION.
Mrs. Jones — "I'm afraid our Lucy is falling in love with Ferdinand Fiveaweek."
Mr. Jones— "I'll stop tliat. I'll let her know that I've got a husband all picked out for her."
Mrs. Jones—" That won't change her a bit."
Mr. Jones—" Yes, it will. I'll tell her I've picked Ferdinand ; then she'll be sure to want the other fellow."

" I am ; but what will you do with the land ?"

Zebulon Hinkle turnecl to him with a suggestive lower-
ing of his left eyelash.

" It is currently believed that I always know what I am
about, is it not ?"

" Yes."

" Well, I am not in a position to tell you right away
what I'll do with that land, but I don't mind saying one
thing : I'm going to make money out of it. You asked
for an illustration of how to succeed, and I'm going to
give you an easy lesson right here at home. You've had
part of the lesson. Did you ever make two hundred dol-
lars easier ?"

" I should say not."

" You probably never will again. I am now in the
hole two thousand — unless I do what I mean to do with
that land."

•• Can I print that you have bought it ?"

"Exactly. Do that very thing. And if anybody asks
you what I am going to do with it, say that I won't tell.
Because I won't."

By the end of that week people had rallied from the
first shock of surprise over the news that Hinkle had
bought Ransom's vacant lots, and were beginning to ask
themselves and others what Hinkle would do with the
property. They asked Ransom.

" Hanged if I know," he said. " All I know is it was

the best sale I ever made. Got twice what the piece is
worth."

"But Zebulon Hinkle doesn't throw his money away,"
some one stated.

"■He did this time," Ransom chuckled, and everybody
felt sorry for Hinkle and twice as sore as ever on Ran-
som, until some one observed,

" I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Why, look at the land," Ransom argued. "You
can't hardly raise good pasture on it."

" Hinkle doesn't raise pasture," some one said.

" You bet he don't," some one else commented. " He
knew what he was doing. Maybe he's going to buy the
railroad and wants that land for yards, or a shop, or a
depot, or something."

This was new light for Ransom and he looked baffled.

" Y'es," argued someone else in the crowd. "And I
read that he has made pots of money out of copper and
coal oil and things like that. I'll bet he's 'got inside infor-
mation that there's ore or coal or oil under that ground —
and he's naturally skinned you, Ransom."

" Shucks !" was Ransom's reply. But the seed of
doubt had been planted in his bosom, and within the next
week it had sprouted, grown, blossomed and was bearing
large bitter apples of regret. He went to see Hinkle and
found him engaged in his enforced occupation of watch-
ing the bees and the drayman.

u:^3

" Mr. Hinkle," Ransom asked, " might I inquire what
you are going to do with that land you bought off of
me ?"

" I'm going to leave it right where it is Mr. Ransom.
Got any objections ?"

" No, sir. I just wanted to know."

" You'll know all about it in good time. Satisfied with
your bargain, weren't you ?"

■• Ye-es."

" Then that's all you need to know. Good-day. I'm
very busy just now."

And for three weeks more Amos Ransom was harassed
by doubt, by the chilling fear that for once he had let
something get away from him before he had been able to
squeeze it drj- of profit. He brooded over it. It went to
meals with him ; it went to bed with him and sat upon
his chest and would not let him sleep. He pictured great
factories on the land that had once been his ; he imagined
railway terminals there ; he conceived oil wells and ore
shafts — and always he saw Zebulon Hinkle waxing fat
and joyous over wagon-loads of money that were being
hauled from the vacant lots he had purchased for a paltry
two thousand dollars. The demon of perturbation accom-
panied him to church and interfered with his enjoyment
of the way the minister lambasted the wicked. At last he
could stand it no longer. He sought out Gordon and
said to him,

'• Do you think that man Hinkle would sell that land
back to me ?"

" Do you want to buy it back ?"

'• Well, I've been thinking maybe I could use it."

" I don't mind asking him."

" I wish you would. And, say, Gordon, if you get him
to sell it back to me I — I don't mind giving you five dol-
lars."

" No. My commission would have to be
cent."

" But he had me pay you before."

" I know. But it was you that was making
the profit, and this time it seems to be the
same way."

" Well, if I've got to, I've got to. I'll do
the same as I did before — ten per cent. But
hurry and see him before he decides to do
something else."

Gordon laid the matter before Hinkle and
he said to bring Ransom around. Ransom
came quickly.

" You want to buy the land back ?" Hinkle
asked.

" I was thinking maybe you would like to
sell."

" You can have it for twenty-five hundred
dollars."

" What ! Why, you only paid me two
thousand, and I gave Gordon "

" You're doing this. I'm not asking you
to buy. You asked for a price. If that isn't
satisfactor)- come and see me next week.
The price will be different then — very differ-
ent, I assure you."

ten per

Ransom looked hard at his shoes for a while, and then
said,

•• I'll do it."

" And Gordon gets his commission ?"

" Yes. I promised to give him two hundred, same as
before," painfully answered Ransom.

" No. You promised me ten per cent.," Gordon said.

" Ten per cent, is two hundred and fifty. Thai's
right."

" But I — but he "

" Come, come ! Business is business," Hinkle de-
clared. ." I can't waste any more time."

" All right, if I've got to," Ransom almost wept.

The deed changed hands once more, Hinkle got his
check and Gordon his money. Then Ransom hurried
away.

" I'm much obliged again," Gordon said. " I never
dreamed of such another piece of luck."

" You want to quit trying to dream."

'• By the way, Mr. Hinkle, you were going to give me
some material for an article on "

" My dear boy ! You asked me to show you how to
make money. Haven't I shown you .' That's the way.
Now go ahead."

"Then you didn't want that land at all, and you onlv
bought it to show me "

" You are slowly beginning to see things. I'm going
home to-night. I thmk I'm well again. If I stay here
you'll have me running a night school, young man."

Then he shook hands with Gordon and told him good-
bye, and went to his room to consult time-tables, while
Gordon hastened to the other end of McCordsville to con-
sult a girl about his future. For when a young man can
make four hundred and fifty dollars inside of a month his
future is something to be reckoned with by any thoughtful
young woman, is it not ?

There is no insurance against the accident of birth.

u;^.

HE HAD ALL THE SIGNS OF THE ZODIAC.
Goat — " Gee whir ! I got 'em this time for sure. ' '
Nan — "What! been eatin' beer corks again?"
Goat — "No ; I just finished half a dozen new almanacs."

<^i^

The Troubles of Olaf Nordenskold

MR. HiECTOR DUSELMANN, mayor of Pinliook,
was visited in his office last evening by Olaf Nor-
denskold, a rich farmer seven miles north of
town, who had just come in from his place in
a disheveled condition and in a screaming rage.

'• Vat kin' av country you call dis ?" cried the angry
farmer, shaking a threatening finger under the nose of
the chief officer of the town. " Ay call it
hal av country, an' Ay can prove dat
Ay ban right. Ay got hay to sail —
man in town want hay to buy. Ay load
up load av hay an' start haul him to man
in town. Ay got good horse on my vagon
— no o.xen on my vagon — good horse. He
wave his tail ; he keek his heel ; he yump
an' pull dey line. Ay ban on dey load hay
an' got planty business drive dat team —
got hal yob dey don't run 'vay. Yoost ven
Ay ban von mile on road oop come sachs
Irishmans, an' he got 'bout feefty catties —
goot fat catties he drive to town to sail.
Dem Irishmans ban all vild like crazy
mans, an' yall an' yall an' yall, an' Ay
ban skart an' my horse he run. Ay hoi'
on dem horse an' pull an" pull lak hal.
Dem horse he dancin' an' cuttin' all kin'
treeks, an' Ay ban skarter an' skarter. Dann dem
feefty catties he yump for dat hay, an' dem sachs Irish-
mans he laff an' yall an' let dem catties yump. Ay
t'ank dem catties naver ban had some sooch good hay

lak dem. Dey eat an' eat an' eat lak avery catties ban
two davels, an' mine hay he goin' fast. Venn Ay yall
at dem catties my horse he t'ank Ay yall by heem, an' he
yump an' keek an' pull on dey line lak steam-an-gine.
An' denn dem sachs Irishmans he all laff an' holler, too,
an' all dem say ' Ole, Ole, Ole !' an' keep seekin' dem cat-
ties on dem hay. Pratty soon my horse dey run two mile
lak hal, an' Ay lose off mine hat off an'
ban skart lak rabbit. Dem catties run,
too, an' dem Irishmans run, too, an' all
dey time dem catties eat hay, an' all eat
hay on gee side dat load of hay, an' purty
soon bimeby after little vile dem hay all
gone on dem side vere dem catties ban, an'
von dem catties bite off dem hay-rope
dat hoi' dem binder-pole down, an' dem
binder-pole fly oop high in dey sky, an' Ay
fly, too, an' fall down on dem back by mine
horse, an' dere on hees back Ay ride deny
horse while dey run vunce more two mile
lak railroad-car, an' dem hay all fall on dey-
road an' dem Irishmans seekin' dem cat-
ties on dem hay. Ay ban feefty times
so mad lak hal, an' venn sooch t'angs
moost in dis country be Ay leef dis
country an' go by Sweden back. Tall
me, Mr. Duselmann ; vat skall dis country do by dem
davels Irishmans ?"

The mayor promised to see about it, and the raging
Scandinavian went away. pra j. parker.

The House of Mirth — A Tale of Tears

IT WAS eight o'clock on the morning of Saint Patrick's
Day. This has nothing to do with the story, but it is
a fact none the less. James Hyslop Jones was on his way
to work. He was in the crush of a New York street-car
— hanging to a strap in the centre-rush of one of those
sumptuous vehicles that ply across town from river to
river. James H. Jones bore about him the elegant finish
and shop-worn look that betokened an expensive past now
giving place to somethmg slightly less expensive and a
trifle insouciant. The practiced eye (there happened to
be one present) could see that there had been a time when
J. H. J. was a young man of high cost ; but now he was
distinctly measurable and computable, and might not
unfairly have been inventoried at fifty dollars over all.
James Hyslop Jones had sat up all night reading " The
House of Mirth." It had awakened memories. This morn-
ing these memories crowded upon him. The crowded
condition of the Inter-Met's trolley may have caused these
memories to crowd upon James. He thought of the time
when his family was rich and his relatives were rich and
his friends were rich. Everybody was rich and none had
anything to do. How wretched was the gilded emptiness
of that old life, yet how happy ! How they had hated it
and yet clung to it !• The conductor held out the usual

slim, clean, beautiful conductorial hand for his fare, and
James shuddered. How different from the old upholstered
luxuriance when he had tipped the butler one bone for a
glass of water ! Just then a ninety-horse- power Mercedes
ran into the car and killed three people, and James groaned.
It brought back as nothing else could the traumerei and
welt-schmerz, the silken affluence and leisurely manslaugh-
ter of the old, rich, elegant, aristocratic life now gone from
him forever. Then he thought of the day when his father
lost all and died while his mother with extreme difficulty re-
frained from giving him a piece of her mind. Alas ! what
days had followed ! How he had assembled the fragments
of his intellect and learned a trade — a sickening business
where he was' torced to render an equivalent for cash re-
ceived ! James Hyslcp Jones's head fell upon his breast,
and he wept. But not for long. His old courage re.
turned — the fixed courage of despair. The car stopped.
The car-crowd was so great as he fought toward the exit
he lost his breath. He went out without it. The car was
rapidly filling with lost breaths. James entered a tall,
coarse building. It had come to this at last. He was
working for a living. This heir to idle elegance and par-
venu ease was now earning a piuful fifty dollars a week.
Oh. what a bunch of sadness this old world is !

Jack — '
Edna —

CANDID.
How is it you lavish so much affection on those dumb brutes ?"
■ For want of something better."

Progress,

JLl AN," said Motor, as he opened

the throttle and shoved the lever

over to the last speed-notch, " has indeed

accornplished.many things. Under

the spell of this sport's exhilaration I

realize, as never before, that we

are indeed but little lower than

the angels."

•• Smash ! Zzzzzzzrip !" said
the machine.

'•By George!" said Motor
twenty seconds later, " I was
wrong, after all. We're
on a level with them
now and will be above
them in another sec-
ond."

Foreign Titles.

Auditor — " But why
do you call your lecture
' Radium" when you don't
mention that article at
any stage of the eve-
ning's talk .'"

Lecturer — "Well,
knowing the fondness of
the American people for
foreign titles, I made one
bold stroke for popular-
ity by choosing a title as
toreign as possible to my
lecture."

What Punctured It.

<iXHAT awfully cold night," went on the explorer,"!
slept on a newfangled something they called a
pneumatic mattress, made out of
rubber — blowed up like a football,
you know, only a different shape
— that is, I went to sleep on that
thing, but woke up in the middle
of the night flat on the ground,
with all the air escaped. You see,
the weather had turned even cold-
er in the night, and the goose-
pimples that came out on my body
had punctured the rubber.
What ?"

Why She Sulked.

Lovcy (on waking in the morn-
'"g) — " Dovey, I dreamed that 1
wasn't married to you. Do you
ever dream, Dovey, that oo iddent
married to me ?"

Dovey ^sleepily) — " No-o-o !
It's been years and years since I
had a really pleasant dream."

Dovey is wondering why Lovey
didn't speak to him again that day.

The Lining.

p\"ERY cloud has a silver lining. The man with insom-
nia doesn't keep other folks awake with his snoring.

/S^'

>v'*. . --,<«?

Timid Henry— ••
to have a wooden leg."

Hattie— •• Oh. I don't know

STRUCK OUT.
I seen a feller with a wooden leg to-d^y, Hattie ; it must be terrible

it isn't as bad as having a wooden arm."

^2-7

FIFTH AVENUE IN JUN(;LFVILLE ON EASTER DAY.
Miss Hippo — " It certainly was a clever idea of mine to hire this bird-of-paradise to sit on my head for i .'ew hours-
I've got the swellest hat on the avenue."

Politeness.

THE little girl had been assiduousl}' instructed in the
arts and graces of courtesy, and when she told her
mamma how the strange boy at the party had kissed her
she did it with a demure, reserved air that would have
delighted her mamma under other circumstances. " And
he kissed me," she said.

" Kissed you !" the mamma e.xclaimed. " And you,
Gladys — what did you do ?"

" Mamma, I didn't forget my politeness. I said ' Thank
you.'"

Graft.

Bobbie — " Papa, w-hat is graft ?"

Papa — " It is getting something because you re in a
position to get it."

Bobbie — " Then am I grafting when you place me over
your knee in a position to get it ?"

Papa's Opinion.

Ethel — " 1 showed papa one of your poems and he was
delighted."

Scribbler — " Indeed !"

E//tfl- '-Yes; said it was so bad he thought you'd
probably be able to earn a living at something else."

Out.

A BLISSFUL feeling fills my frame ;
'■ I'm free to wander where I may,
And life is like a merry game
Which children play.

No more I languish, sigh and pine ;

No more I frown and fume and fret.
A joy divine to-day is mine —

I'm out of debt !

No more I languish, sigh and pine.

While sorrow preys upon my heart
And worry of this life of mine

Becomes a part.

No more I frown and fume and fret ;

I walk with laughter hand-in-glove.
Fur I'm not only out of debt,

But out of love !

WII.LIS LEON.\KD CL.\NAH.\N

A Paradox.

Cus/onicr — " Have you some of that corned beef you let
me have a can of the last time I was in here ?"

Grocer — " No ; I am sorry to say I haven't. That was-
a very fine brand of beef, but nobody would buy it, so I
sold it."

£ f- 5 P

f- y; H w;

The "Having" of Al^y

By Strickland W. Gillilan

HERE have been subsequential in-
terims when I could have been dis-
suaded to suspect that we'd played

? several others besides Invention.

\i' She's no race-suicidist, as President
yijf Ellicott of Hartford would say.
^ "* When Alex and I had got

■^^^ ^ through — quite through, thanl<s —

with that game of freeze-out at Sioux City, and when that
afore-mentioned game had got through v^fith Alex and me
(the two intervals being one and the same time), we turned
and looked each other in the iace just because neither of
us had ihe nerve to face the truth. We were cleaned,
right. If one of those automo-liousecleaners had been
driven up and hitched to our pockets, with its compressed
air-tubes tuned to concert pitch, 'and had been allowed to
run for an hour, our. pockets wouldn't have been any
freer from financial infection than they were. It was no
rough sketch of the dead-broke we were putting on. It
was what I think they call realization on the stage. If
dollars had been three sizes smaller than they are, and
had been made of Missouri river muck ; and if the rate at
a good hotel were fourteen cents in Mexican money per
diet, Alex and I wouldn't have had enough between us to
buy a drink of ice-water from the lobby tank.

That's near enough how broke we were. We were
the devoidest pair, spondulixically speaking, that ever
transpired.

I claim that anybody who would expect us to keep a
death-grip on the decalogarithms for the next few hours
•has more religion than he needs and less sense than he
would have if he'd been in our fix. Alex and 1 both think
that. Of course we've never been accused of being mis-
sionaries, and maybe our views are erratical, but that's
how we doped it. A little good steed-gumption would
tell 'most anybody several things to do that Hoyle
wouldn't have recommended if the same or simultaneous
circumstances got around him.

When the human stomach stands up and gives the dis-
tress-signal in no uncertain tones and gestures, the owner
of the aforesaid tummy has a trustworthy hunch that it
isn't inclined to listen to reason, let alone conscience, and
he sets his moral chronometer back about fifteen minutes
to the rear of the stone age, while he takes the shortest
cut for soothing chuck. When hunger has folded its tents
like the Scarabs and silently larcenied away, civilization
sets in once more, the man in the case sets his spiritual
watch by the nearest church-tower clock, and all is serene.
There's no chance for argument on this subject-. Show
me a man who isn't built on this plan and I'll show you,
maybe, a frenk, but more likely an awful, though uninten-
tional, liar.

To make a short story shorter, Alex and I went dowr>
to the union station, and you'll waste a lot of valuable
time if you wonder why. Our legs may know. They
took us. There were just as many brains in those mem-
bers as in our cranial concavities at that time.

Same legs went around the end of a bench and sat
down. That's how we came to be sitting there, and it
shows you just how much our intentions had to do with
what followed ; and how fate jiu-jitsued or osteopathed
the whole affair.

And — well, if I didn't pretty nearly forget the daffy
Dane in this little Hamlet of mine ! On the way down
street, past the Mondamin hotel, we saw a rube just ahead
drop a package of papers. He walked on, unbeknowing
of his loss. When Alex's foot hit the package his back
bent of its own accord and his right hand picked up the
thing and dropped it into his side coat-pocket. He would
have called to the rube if his voice had wanted to, but
there was no vocal demonstration. There seemed to be
no steam in the gauge. Nothing about us was working,
but arms and legs, understand, since that jack-vessel had
been opened for the other fellows' benefit.

I wouldn't undertake to say how long we'd been sitting
on that waiting-room bench at the union station, when
words began to trickle over us. Then they cascaded —
just fairly Niagaried and cataracted and eddied and
whirlpooled over and around us. Part of the time we
were in the Cave of the Winds, and part of the time going
through the rapids in a bafrel. We looked around.

A fellow with a blazing red face, lit up with one round
oriole window, sat on the seat that backed up to ours and
let his vocabulary Jiave continuous hemorrhages.

You know how one of that brand of Englishers wdl
talk — that kmd with iron-gray fire-escape whiskers and a
red polka-dot vest. You know how He likes to listen to
the siren voice of himself — well, this was a large, dis-
play, bold-face, head-letter type of that branch of the gen-
eral order of anthrops. And these, or as nearly these as
anybody except a fast-revolving phonograph could have
caught it, were his remarks :

" Ya-as, y' know, it's a bloomin' shyme, y' know, the w\,
me fellow-countrymen come to the stytes and are regu-
lawly had, y' know. I remawked to Lud Whifflelon-
Smythe, just before leaving the othaw side, y' know, that
I'd jolly well show the bloomin' Yankees a few tricks,
y' know. I myke no bownes of the fact that I have any
quantity of money, y' know, but not a sixpunts gows until
I discovah a — what you call a bawgain, y' know. I shall
not visit the mines, the Indian reservytions or any othaw
doubtful plyces. I shall keep me eyes open until I find
some, bloomin' good fawming land, properly impwoved,
that its owneh must pawt with at a sacwifize, y' know.
Ha-ha ! Ha.ha ! Deuced good, clevah plan, y' know,
eh ?■■

That was his line, and it naturally woke us up. Half
a minute before Algv began flowing ,nt the mouth we had

felt, Alex and I, as if we'd never smile again. Half a
minute after he had begun his recitative chant we were
smiling like a certain breed of cat from Alg^^'s own coun-
try. Everybody within two blocks could hearken to Algy,
and the depot telegraph operatress had to close her win-
dow so she could hear her instruments click.

The quiet little man who sat listening to him arose
after a few bars of Algy's solo, told the Englisher to wait
there a minute, and went out. We feared something was
about to happen to Algy.

Suddenly I heard a grunt from Alex. He had pulled
that bunch of papers from his pocket and was looking at
them with eyes that stuck out so the dust from the jani-
tor's broom was settling on nearly an inch of them. If he
had started to cry the biggest tear in the bunch couldn't
have splashed within a foot of his boots. Without a word
he turned and showed the documentaries to me. They
were a deed and abstract of title to the best piece of land
in the Floyd river bottoms up above Sioux City — land
good in the open market for a century an acre. The
deeds were signed, and the only blanks not filled out were
those for the name of the party of the second part and for
the amount of the selling price.

I was so stumped that I w^as totally unprepared for
what Alex did next, and for the suddenness with which he
seemed to perfect the whole scheme. Seemed that the
total rest, his brains had had for two hours had done him
heaps of good. Same here, for the way I fell in and un-
derstudied showed mighty nigh human reasoning power.
But hunger is hunger, walking was bad, and Chicago was
many thousands of railroad ties beyond the horizon.

" I never expected to be druv to the wall like this,"
said Alex in one of those confidential tones a farmer em-
ploys when he is talking to a man while a thrashing-machine
is running. " To think of th' years I've slaved and saved
on this place to put it into shape, and to be caught now
in a pinch where I'll have t" sell it at any old price at all !
It s awful. But sell I must "

"Don't do it, Bronson," says I, coaxing-like, having
caught the name of the party of the first part along with
his wife's at the bottom of one of the sheets. " Don't do
it. We may be able to raise a breeze some other way
without "

"No use, no use," growled Alex; "I've reached th'
end o' my string. Th' poor man's extremity is God's
opportunity to give all he's saved to some feller that's in
better luck. An' th' sooner I sell th' better."

The fish was rising. The Englisher turned and swal-
lowed the hook, line, sinkers, bob, pole, and didn't even
gag on the fisherman himself.

" Aw, Bronson, bless me sowl," he beamed through
his one window ; " this is an unexpected pleasuah — this
tone so different from the one in youh lettaw in answer to
my attempt to buy youh fawm at a deucedly good price.
Now I fawncy we can come to something nearaw my
terms, .•' know-."

Alex jumped to his feet.

" What !" he yelled with fine tragedy ; " you're not th'
Englisher I'd been bluffing with. I'm caught fairly. I
■did leel, m ;• lord, that I had earned a fair price for my
property. Gawd knows " — and here Alex squeezed out a

really wet tear — "I'd worked hard enough and long
enough, and hoped enough, to get it paid for, and now "

he ended with the finest gesticulation of despair you

ever saw. My, w-hat a loss the stage distained when Ale.x
Gregg took to tin-horning !

Well, it took. The Englisher offered a thousand
pounds for those two hundred improved acres — a fourth
their value, as he well knew. Bronson himself couldn't
have afforded the sacrifice, but Alex could, and as I was
expecting to go snucks on the deal, I was willing to let
him do it. "f he papers were soon in Algy's big pink mitts
and half the purchase-money in ours. We were to be
paid the rest as soon as we met Algy and his quiet friend
(that we were mighty afraid would bob in any time) in an
attorney's office at half-past eight. We went out to get
our breakfasts.

Well, Alex and I caught a Milwaukee train east,
changed cars at Manilla and doubled back on the North-
western to Missouri valley, and for the next few days we
changed cars and appearances and clothes so often that a
bloodhound would have got a severe headache trying to
find us.

Both of us often wondered what happened when the
Englisher failed to meet us in that law-office, and also
when Algy and the real Mr. Bronson came together.

The other day I was sitting in the La Salle-street sta-
tion, Chicago, when I saw a face and shape I would know
anywhere. It was a bulky shape and a turkey-red face.
The former was drooped down on a bench and the latter
was open in a goodly snooze. I had money on me. Slip-
.ping up quietly to the pudgy figure I dropped into the
open side-pocket of his plaid coat five hundred dollars, on
account.

A Ballade of Spring Poets.

THEV sing of the opalescent moon.
Of course, of the flowers that too soon fade
(Oh, my ! how the busy bardlings croon !) ;
They murmur of hill and glen and glade,
By brooklet and river they are swayed ;
They tie the language into a noose.

And freely open their stock in trade —
Ho, poets of spring will soon run loose !

The azure sky is a precious boon.

The stars e'er come to the singer's aid ;
And what would he do. the maundering loon

(I'm sure there are man}' poets made),

Without the bee and the grassy blade ?
For matters like these his soul seduce ;

Yes, trifles like these his feelings raid —
Ho, poets of spring will soon run loose !

The poets of spring will gurgle soon,
Soul-burdened poets of every shade ;

They'll deal out things with a liberal spoon,
New aspirations will be displayed.
New flights of fancy will be essayed.

Though Pegasus meet with rank abuse.
The galling and spur he can't evade —

Ho. poets of spring will soon run loose !
ENVOY.

There's no way out of it. I'm afraid ;
Vou cannot down them by any ruse.

Prince, welcome the coming serenade —
Ho. poets of spring will soon run loose :

NATHAM M. U!v t.

^"^,

DISQUALIFIED.
" Yes ; we had to drop Mrs. Tones from our ' mothers' society.' "
"Why?"
" She insisted on bringing her baby with her."

In the Language of the Circus Man.

<<CAY, young fel-
ler !" roared
the fierce-looking
manager of a
cheap circus to a
smooth-shaven kid
of six years, \vho_
had found his way
into the canvas by
way of his stom-
ach, " what do you
suppose would ul-
timately become ot
this mammoth,
mastodonic aggre-
gation of pompous
and glittering
splendor, this gor-
geous array of ma-
jestic beasts of the
far - away African
■forest, superbly trained by masterly hands of fearless men
at enormous expense, this magnificent exhibition of genu-
ine chariot-horses direct from the Roman stables, and
these royal elephants with their stately equipage, and,
mind you, this brilliant conglomeration of three thousand

bare-back riders — what would become, I ask you, of the
whole consarn outfit if we allowed every blooming idiot to
crawl into our tent without liquidating the usual price of
admission, which is the small sum of fifty cents, or halt-
price for children ?"

" Whatcher — say — mister ?" answered the bewildered,
dirty-faced intruder.

" I said," responded the manager ol the cheap cir-
cus, " that you could go over yonder and select the best
seat in the reserved row. Don't you understand plain
English ?"

Mr. Turnover's Place.

(( IN THE art of selling goods there are many things
that happen of which the customer is totally oblivi-
ous," said a Broadway salesman. Thus, when a salesman
finds that he is not likely to be successful with a customer
he turns and says,

" I am not as familiar with this stock as the gentleman
over there." And then in a louder tone to his fellow-
salesman, " Mr. T. O., will you kindly attend to this gen-
tleman ?"

This plan is in accordance with a theory that not all
salesmen can sell to all customers, and sales that one can-
not make another can. "Mr. T. O." stands for "Mr.
Turnover," and this is the system known in Broadwav
stores as the " turnover system. " j. d. mhi-ei-

THE LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

Santa Barbara

THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
STAMPED BELOW.

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