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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est film6 d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche 6 droite. et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 lu- ^^ ^7 > \ 1 ROBERTSON'S CHEAP^SERIES, POPULAR READING AT POPULAR PRICES.- HAWK-EYES. BY \ 1 ^ ROBERT J. BURDBTTB, THIS *' BURLINGTON HAWK-BYB** MAR. ; r : • J» . COMPLETE, T n D A\r T A . J. BOSS BOBERTSON, 55 KINO-ST. WEST, OOR BAT 1880. "ROBERTSON'S CHEAP^SERIES. POPULAR READING AT POPULAR PRIOES.^ HAWK-EYES BY ^ ROBERT J. BURDETTB, THE ** BlJRLlN«TON HAWK-BYB** i COMPLETE, 1 TORONTO: J. BOSS BOBEBTSON, 55 KING-8T. WEST, OOB. BAT 18 80. mtm !• /J.>^T>iJ ^BOm^ fliMU«^0-1 T/^-. •>'i'i:QAHfl nAJV^O'^ sssn-^-'S '^^- S .1 .j^ .. «*' A r -rr *lll: >^l'ilff/.il !■ ;!■' .iy? .YAa .. ■ f T 1 w^l^w^ aiv ■n?* bc-a."W"k:-e y jiis. MY GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK. Idy grandfather's clock was too high for the shelf. And it reachod forty feet below the floor ; And he used to take a lightning-rod to wind it himself. While he stood on the top of the door. It ran like a quarter horse long years ere he was born ; When he died it ran faster than before, And ev,ery ; time-tbat-he-heard-the tune. The old— man— swore. Ohorus, by the entire congregation : About 459.000 years without slumbering, Tick, took : tick, took, turn, tum^tum ; turn, tum-tum ; oom-pah, oom-pab, brfr«-a-a t Whistling and roaring and shrinking and thun- der!ng< l^ok. tocK; tiok, took, toot,doot, toot, de doot, tra la, la h» ha I Ah t Scree-ee-ee t Whoop 1 Whoop I Wfr-ha- ba-ha-ha-a-a-a ! It went I FaMer I than-ever-it-went-bef ore, When Idle old— man— died I ;a\^(e bassoon ; My Grandfather's The man who lived down at tiie corner of the block, With a voice like a broad lie lOf^e a^^bass solo of * And he never sang any other tune. He sang it every morning and he sang it in the ni«ht, And he W(tg, it -while the. congregation cried : But'his neck ; tie ; fitted-hlS'neck-too tight, On the day— he— died. Chobu», by people who sing, with a lingeriQi whittle, but oftn't _. . ^_ _. suspioiotw inflection on the neck-tie "• as though circumstances indi- ottted tiiat several men had helped the musioiaih to put it on : Forty-nine hours to^ay wtthout slumbering. Toodls de doot, too d» doe, tuodlevie doo tooty ThQ mulutudinous notes of the Qrioketsoutnum- neruig; Toott Dtett ToatI Doot! Tootll 8ul hte nooH : m : wMnt.MUiMted-right. 4tai tM» a«fr-b0-HUBO 1 And the handsome jremg agh the door, to observe fhat all the women in the waiting-room were intently regarding him with varions expreS' siona, curiosity predominating. He sat down and bent his arms at the elbows nntil they resembled in shape two letter V's, with th* baby lying neck and heels in the angle at the elbows, and he looked, and felt that he look- ed, like the hideous pictures of Moloch, in the old Sunday-school books. Mr. Thumbledirk felt keenly that he wa» an object of curiosity and illy-repressed mirth to the women around him. Now, a digni- fied man does not enjoy being a laughing- stock for anybody, and it is especially hu- miliating for him te feel that he appears ridi- culous in the eyes of women. This feeling; is intensified when the man is a bachelor, and knows he is a little awkward and ill at e.ase in the presence of women, anyhow. So, as he gazed upon the face of the quiet sleep- ing infant, he made an insane effort to appear perfectly easy, and, to create the impression: tliat lie was an old married man and tho father of twenty-six children, he disengaged one arm, and chucked the baby under th& chin. About such a chuck as you always feet like giving a bby with a " putty blower" or- a "pea shooter." It knocked the little rose- bud of a mouth shut so quick and close the baby couldn't catch its breath for three mi- nutes, and Mr. Thumbledirk thought, with a strange, terrible sinking of the hedrt, that it was just possible he might have overdone the thing. A short young woman in a kilt skirt ana a pretty face, sitting directly oppo- site him, said, "Oh !" in a mild kind of a. shriek, and then giggled ; a tall, thin wo- man in a black bombazine dress and a gray shawl, and an angular woman in a calicO' dress and a sun- bonnet, gasped, " Why ?" in a startled duet : a fat woman with a small herd of childjen and a market-basket shouted " Well t" and then immediately clapped her plump hands over her mouth a» though the exclamation had been startled from her, and a tall, raw-boned woman who wore horn spectacles and talked bass, said "The poor Lamb I" in such sepulchral tones that everybody else laughed, and Mr. Thum- bledirk, who didn't just exactly know whether she meant him or the baby, blushed scarlet, and felt his face grow so hot he could smell his hair. And his soul was filled with such gloomy forebodings that all tha future looked dark to him. The baby opened ita blue eyes wider than any man who nev«r owned a babv would have believed it possible, and stared at Mr. Thumbledirk with an expression of alarm, and a general lack of confidence, tiiat boded a distressing want of harmony in all further proceedings. Mr. Thnmbledirk, viewiiig. I HAWK-EYES. ] 'if ? 4 th«M Bgu of restlessness with inward «Urm, conceived the happy idea that the baby needed a change of position. So he •tood it upon its feet. It is unnecessary to tell any mother of a lamily that by the execution of this appar- «ntly very simple movement, the unhappy ouu) had every thread of that baby's clothes «mder its arms and around its neck in an in- stant. A general but suppressed giggle went around the room. Mr. Thumbledirk blushed, redder and hotter than ever, and the aatonishad baby, after one horrified look at its strange guar- dian, whimpered uneasily. Mr. Thumbledirk, not darine to risk the •ognd of his own voice, would nave danced tfile baby up and down, but his little legs bent themselke of the beautiful sunset that was just coming on. He spake never a word, but dismally wondered what she wouhl say if she should see the picture of a winter sunset, executed in Caufornia pear on light oassi- mere. He writhed in mental agony, and he felt the fiendish pear spread out wider and thinner than ever. Miss Whazzeruaim said it was growing colder. He ulently thought if she wanted to feel something so cold that it could stand at an iceberg aaid'warm its hands, abe could lay her baud ai hi* heart. She said she was actually shivering. And he thought if she knew what a- wwi. toemor of agitation his Shivering nerves were in, she would never liink of shivering again. She said if they were goipg to sit o*t there any— at-chew ! longer, she must really — at-cbee ! go in and get a wrap. Then he fouMd voice. He rose, and facing her, while tears filled his eyes and choked his utterances as he thought what a demoral- ized facade his rear elevation must present to the passers-by in the street, shouted : "I'd like to-rap the icy-hearted son of a goslii^ that left that' pear on the step^ over tne head with a club, dad burn the " She rose like a creature of marble, and fafxd at him in inctignimti voiceless rebuke. [e backed slowly down the stairs. She turned, and with one glance of indigpant. unforgiving scorn, weat into the hotui* With a superhuman effort ht ooaq«ei*d hk fears, and looked at the step to gather » faint idea of the ooontorpcrfe pictul^ ^i^b he had lithographed upon his ralmeni^ ttsmt the cold freestone, ffig fearful glaao» fell upon an inaodent, flaltancd, bat perfeoily innocuous rubber doil, the property of tiiv youngest WhazEemaim. He looked at the cold, forbidding door of the maaiMon. He thought of the \iiiforgiV' ing fflance that had betokened his diamianL He uionght of the suffering be had ao iimo* cently and unjustly undergone. He thpuajbt a thotiMuid things that he couldn't be hirra to say, and the sun went down behind the isomorphous furnace on West Hill, and left world and Mr. Jasman's heart in starlei* gloom. The match is off. ■Tasnian now spends his ddys at Sunday- school pic-nics, which he is wont to immor- talize in verSe : — THE PIC-NIC MAH. Under the »hell-burk hickory tree 'ITie pic iiic man he stands : A woefiiMi>okin}< man is he. With bruised and Krimy hands ; And the soil that sticks vO his trousers' knee, Is the soil of se\ eral land.,. His huir is mussed, hie hat is torn. His flotlics are like the Kround ; He wiKlies he had ne'er been born, Or'M-ing born, ne'er found. Hn glares upd soowls in wrathful seom As oft he looks around. At early morn, in suit of white. He sought the pic-nic park ; His face was clean, his heart was light, His loud song :nocked the 'ark. But now, althouifh the day is bright, His world, ala*>, is dark ! ; In joyous mood, at early mom. He B»e upon the stamp, But soon, as thoagh MVftn a thorn He sat, with mighty jump He leaiied aloft, and aO Ibrlom In haste he did emiftp. For lo, in hordesi die bis Idaok ants, With nippers long ana slim. n Went swihiy crawling up his pants. And made it w»nn for nim ; And through the woode they make him danc^ With gasp, and groan, and vim. And when the rustic feast is spread. And she is sittihg by. His wlldwOod garland on her h jad, The love-light in her eye. He- ^woe, oh woe ! would he were dead, Siti^ in the custard pie. AM now they send him up the tree To fix the pic-nic swing. And up the shellrbark's aeraggy side* HAWK-KYBfl. I! i" ^ l>)i li 1 ! t They Uugh. (o mo him olUw : "ithey cannot hear the wordn ne cried, " Dad fetch ] dog'gone ! dad blnj r JkxA now he wisbeth he were down. And yet he cannot see lost how the eljBrKle, stare and frowa Escaped by hirn may be : Heknows he cannot scramUe down Wiui hi« baclt against the tree. fobbing, and sidllnK, and wailing'. Homeward along he goes ; Cllay, pie, and grass-staine on his j^aata^ More and more plainly shows ; And he vows tbat to anT more pic-nloe, He never will go, he knows. .Sat the morrow comes, and its rising sun, Brings balm to his tattered breelcs, Se thinks, after all, he had lots of fan. And hopefully, gayly he snealcs, .jind he goes topic-nios one oy one, ITine tunes in the next five weeks. AFTKR ELECTION DAY. It is absolutely mournful to notice how full of strana^rs the city has been ever since election. We know a man who six weeks «go couMn't walk across the street without stopping to shake hands with ei^hty-iive tnen whom he had known ever since they -were boys, wlio now walks from his home to .the p loHR. *' V\ h%t WAS his last name?" she d«>« munded ; and again I was hopelessly in- volved. " Well," she declared at last, with an ex- pression that settled the controversy, "dat's ze same man. Our Jacob, he aint dot ro onser name, either : des Jacob, old Jacob." " This good old man," I resumed, " hftd twelve sons." "AnyUttledirlsT" "Only one." " Hah r" exclaimed Beth, in atone of iroone night, Joseph had a dream — " " Oo-oo 1 1 dreamed that ae l>ig Bible on 4n parlour table had five long leas and a big mouf, full of sharp teeth,and it climbed onto my bed An' drowledat me 'cause I bit le wax apple an' tied gran'pa's wig onto Carlo's head last Sunday ? Oh, i was so scared »n' I hol- lered an' mamma said she dassed I bad m nightmare. " After the nafttttion of this thrilling appari- tion, with its direct interpretation and moral application, Joseph's dream appeared a verjr poor, commonplace, far-fetched sort of a vision, and my audience listened to it in contemptuous silence. " One dav Joseph'c( father sent him away to see how his brothers were getting along " Whv didnt he write 'em a letter T" " And when they saw Joseph coming they said " " Did he ride in ze oars ?" " No, he walked. And when his brothera saw him coming " " I guess they fouprht he was a tramp, t bet you Carlo would have bited his legs if he'd been zere. " " No, they knew who he was, but ther were bad, cruel, wicked men, and thev took Cr Joseph, who was so good, ana who sd them all so well " " I see a boy climbin' our fence ; I desa he's goin' to steal our apples. Lot's go siek Carlo on- him. " " Poor Joseph, who was only a boy, just a little boy, who never did any one iny harm ; these great rough men seized him with fierce looks and angry words, and they were goinia; to kill the fngtitened, helpless little youth, who cried ana begged them so pit- eously not to hurt him ; going to kill their own little brother " " Nellie Tavlor has a little brother Jim, an' she says she wishes somebodv would kill him when he tears off her doU's legs an' frowB her kitten in ze cistern." " But Joseph's oldest brother pitied the little boy when lie cried " " I dess he wanted »ome cake ; I cry when I want cake, an' mamma dives me some. " " And so he wouldn't let them kill him, but they found a pit " "I like peach pits," Beth shouted rapturously, ''an' I know where I can find a groat lot of 'em now. Coma along !" "No, let's finish the story first. These bad men put Joseplt into the pit " " Why— Aunt — Dora 1 what is you talkin' about r " About these cruel men who put Joseph into the pit " " I deas you mean say put ze pit into Joseph." I explained the nature of the pit into whioh Joseph was lowered, and ik ant on. "So thera the poor little boy was all alpn* in this deep, dark hole " "Why (fidn't he climb out?" •' Because ha oouldn'i Tka aides of th* 10 k pit were rough, and it wm very u ae'er Hiut read.**): ju-*. - ^nSfn!»le°fflft^Sar-**^ Which he ne'er had s^ken i( he had been Les8boaiJ«h,alillil»ttier bi«4L "Now listen to me, tnou nan of brains," And in mocking tones snake she, ** B^ little I reek ottkebAoka that lead The shelveeot arour Mferavie ; But this It^ff, that withii^ that book Of which I have heard yoti speak, IlMtve mere tedlew^s ia^n hc^ this mofii: Than ye have read learrvs 4a: a wMk.'* And Bbeio4de4,h tones. And ihe buried himself in the, newspaper, And he i^ad of nmrders diM ; «if Me«orte4 stoMiea; «f M)M)lc#lMt 4h>p^, I Of losses by storm and fire ; How Ho^ How And Till i* The! ■'%-»>•,. bad beea^ >rai9«,'' ttlead book. ,, ., -,, ^ tbM iitbyif i ' iM atbevman,. ber woiMnlr 1 biatmu^i&iifi tdNat- >iigrh 8h« wei^ Bh«^ and Death U,^quotk Kdo book, pentwac •(''lib i A Zodiac." ' y»hoW leaver k-worm, lowr , • . - ' ■ . i ; to look. Mi at last, at I yet may- c her head, he^ be preih te«k^i . ;■•■■■■/ j g:; itte IiA.WK£Yl!;S. W How banks were robbec^ ; how people were dtowned; How men from trouble wme BMifl, How some inea U^,ibow wwuei^ cried, And much more that was awfof and «ad, Tin iV hirMsd Hts'head, and Hie man, i« tt said; Became tnadaimabljr ImuL MORAI. , ..,'.. The moral \» obTlous. AN OBJECT OF interest;' ' Have you auy objects of interest in the vicinity ? ' the touTiet asked the £urIiDgtoii man. 'I have, I have ! ' eagerly replied the other, ' but I can't get at it to show it you. It's a ninety days' note, and its down in iJba bank now, drawing interest Uke a horse race on a mustard plaster. ' The traveller smiled as though an angel had kissed him. Btit it hadn't SPELL 'CUD.' The other day the o;tfice boy came up into 77*f Hawkeye uanctum with an expression of grave concern on his face. He gazed thought- fully around the room for a moment and tlien asked : ' How do you spell "cud ? " ' ' What kind of cud ? ' somebody asked, in a careless, uninterested mannei. ' Why, ' the boy replied, ' the kind that a cow chews. Cud ; how do you spell it ? ' The city editor looked up, paused, and glancing anxiously over toward the managing editor, 'That isn't local, is it, Mr. Waite ? ' he asked. ' Yes,' was the "reply, and the city man, after a little hesitation, remarked that he had never seen the M^rd in print, but he believed it was fipelled 'cudd.' A long silence ensued, and the man- aging editor, feeling that the question had not been answered to the gener- al satisfaction, and feeling that all eyes were ujjon him, said tliat he believed it was generally ntisprunounced, and that he believed that tlie proper ortbogcaphy was • COO'l.' The congregation then looked toward the proof-reader, who said he was quite confident that it WAS spelled ' gwud.' The manager was SiUtnmonQd ffoni the counting-room, and said he was ol the opin- ion that the word was of L»titt d«ilvatibnlthd was spelled ' buid. ' A tti^({^ttm was s^t to th« f bony man, %ho was unln Bftloit, Wfiiooiiiin, btit h^ thinly veiteA his tmm i|[yiot^66 by r«i>iy- ing that ' you didn't spell it i^t all; you d)ewedlit.' The foEetnail was sent for, and on his. ar- rival in the conncil-chambtir, he sud'Tflrortipt- ly that it was spelled 'cuia.' ' In knswer to the telegfain sentto hitn,tbe^ Jiditor-ilhcbief replied from ilie capital that tVt^ Impelled with a lower-case 'c. The ^essman came up in response to a stibtKieua, and said that bis father kept a St oek farm, and that he knew you spelled it 'kudl' The iilvtSljgation closed with the tes- timony of this last witness, and the office boy went down stairs and resumed the duties of his honourable and responsible office. But he couldn't clearly make out whether he had or had not learned how to spell •cud.' TIT FOR TAT. ' Does that hurt ?' kindly asked the den> tist, holding the young man's head back,and jabbing a steel probe with back set teeth clear (town through his aching tooth and into the gum ; ' Does that hurt ?' he asked with evident feeling. ' Oh, no, ' replied the young man, in a voice sufflised with emotion and sentiment ; ' oh, no, ' he said tenderly, rising from the chair and holding the den- tist's head in the stove while he dragged hii hingB out of his ears with a cork-screWi ' Oh, no, ' he said, ' not at all ; does that V But the dentist had the better of the yonng man after all, for he charged him fifty cent* and dident pull the tooth then. But by that time the asttmished t0€>th had forgcrtt its aching. RAISING A CHURCH DEBT. Not long ago Broths Kimball found a small church in oentrad Iowa that was stag^erinK along under a eomf ortahle debt, aadit looked to him as though it would just be recreation for him to lilt a little country ohnreh out of the depths, after his experience and success with the big ohurohes m great cities, with their overwh^ming indebtedneasi So he tackled the quiet little rustic Ebenex^t and shook it out of all the debt h« knew of in about ten hoursf and the build* ioit was qlear pf iucu^ibrance. Then before the benediction was pronounor ed the senior deacon arose and stated that theve never had been but one payment madib' on the organ, and that the acMted intweai on thfl; aSefMMd fMrtiAentti nOw nmovteted tffr %bqut doitU4 th« Mrintf !ND. ush of ia> emn. The self a New at the Be» ust olosinc nder, ana sure. The I of pencils e errors ia D, from the tearfnl expression of his sorrowful counten- ance, is known to be in the throes of a joke. The joke is born, and this is its name ; ' A man died in Atchison, Kansas, last week, from eatins diseased buffalo meat. A clear case of suicide — death from cold bison. ' Enter the inteUigent compositor. ' This Atchison item, what is this last word ? ' To him, the funny man. 'Bison.' Intelligent oompositor. ' B, -i, -s, -o, -n ? ' Funnyman. "Yes." The intelligent compositor demands to be informed what it means, and the painstaking funny man, with many tears, explains the joke, and ^ith great elaboration shows forth how it is a plav on ' oold pisen. * 'Oh, yes,' says the intellinent oomposi- tor, and retires. Sets it up ' cold poison.' Funny man groans, takes the proof, seeks the iutelligent compositor, and explains that he vdshes not only to make a play on the word ' pisen' but also on the word ' bison.' ' And what is that ?' asks the intelligent eompoeitor. The funny man patiently explains that it means 'buffalo.' ' Oh, ye» I' shouts the intelligent composi- tor, ' Now I understand. ' Mortified funny man retires, and goes home in tranquil confidence and growing fame. Paper comes ont in the morning ; ' cold buffalo.' Tableau. Red fire and slow curtain. THE LEGEND OF THE DRUMMUH. It was during the reign of the good Caliph, when Abou Tamerlik came to tha city of Baffdad, tiiraw his gripsack on the counter, and, as he registered, spake cheerfully unto the clerk, saying : — 'A sample room on the first floor, and send my keyster np right away, and call me for the 6.28 train east, in the morning.' And Basler el Jab, the clerk, looked at him, but went away to the mirror and gazed at his new diamond. And Abou Tamerlik hied him forth and went into the booths and bazars, and laid hold upon the merohaute and enticed them into his room and spread out his samples and besought them to buy. And when ni^bt was come he slept Because, he said, it is a dead town and there is no place to go. And before the second watch of the night, Rhnmul em Uhp, the porter, smote on the panels.of his door and cried aloud : ' Oh, Aboo Tamerlik, arise and oreis, for itis train time.' And Abou arose and girt his raiment about him and hastened downstairs and crept into the 'bus. And he marvelled that he was so sleepy^ because he knew he went to bed exceedingly early and marvellously sober. And when they got to the depot, lo, it was the mail west, and it was 10:25 p.m. And Abou "Tamerlik swore aud reached for the porter, that he might smite him, and he said unto him, ' Carry me back to my own room and see that thou call me at 6.28 a. m., or thou diest. ' And ere he had been asleep even until the midnight watch, Rhumul em Uhp smote again upon the panels of his door, and cried sfoud, ' Awake, Abou Tamerlik, for the time waneth, and the train stayeth for no man. Awake and haste, for slumber overtook thy servant, and the way is long and the 'bus gone i' And Abou Tamerlik arose and dressed, and girded up his loins, and set forth with great speed, for his heart was anxious. Neverthe- less, he gave Rhumul em Uhp a quarter and made him carry his grip, and he cursed him for a drivelling laggard. And when they come to the train it was 11.46 p. m., and it was a way freight going south. And Abou Tamerlik fell upon Rhumul em Uhp and smote him and treated him roughly* andsaid, ' Oh, pale gray ass of all asses, the prophet pity thue if thou callest me onoe more before the 6.28 a.m. east.' And he gat him into his bed. Now, when sleep fell heavily upon Abou Tamerlik, for he was sore discouraged, Rhumul em Uhp kicked fiercely against the panels of hid door and said, ' Oh, Abou Tamerlik the drummnh, awake and dress with all speed. It is night in the valleys, but the day-star shines on the mountains. Truly the train is even now due at the depot, but the 'bus is indeed gone. ' And Abou Tamerlik, the drummuh, swore himself awake, and pnt on his robes and hastened to the depot, while Rhumul em Uhp, the porter, went before with a Ian- tern. For it was pitch dark and raining like * honse a-fire. And when they reached the depot it was » gravel train, going west, and the dock in the steeple tolled 2 a. m. And Abon Tamerlik fell upon Rhumul em Uhp, tile porter, and beat him all the way home, ana pelted him with mad, and y 24 HAWK-BYBS. il It ■i brok« his lantern uid oan«d him. And he got him to bed and slept. Now, when Abon Tamerlik awoke the «an was high and the noise of the street car rattled in the«treet. And his heart smote him ; and he went down stairs and f^e ulerk said to him : ' Oh, Abou Tamerlik, live in peace. It is too late for breakfast and loo early for dinner, nevertheless, it won't make any diftei'euce in the bill.' And Abmi Tamerlik, the drummnb, sought Rhnmul eui Uhp^ the porter, Mid caught him by tl;e lieara, and said nnto him : ' Oh, chuck eledded pnp! (which is, "Thou that sIuepeiA at train time, ") why haet thon forgotten me ?' And Rhuinul em Uhp was anG^y, and 9flid : ' Oh, Abou Tamerlik the drummuh, hasty in speech and stow to think ; where- fore shouldst l^u get up at daybreak, wlien there is another train goes the same way to- morrow morning. ' But Abon Tamerlik, would not harken unto him, but paid his bill and hired a team and a man to take him to the next town. And he hired the team at the livery stable, and he cursed the house that he put up at. Xow, the livery stable belonged to the landlord, all the same. But Abou Tamerlik, the drumntuh, wist not t^at it was so, ttnd while he rolled painfnUy along the stony highway, he mused as he rode, vid, musing Mng to the£« wordii: A LBGBND OF K\KXr, "^was eveto, and FVitinia, ^d •xAtgm.j, Stood ati her -door (o kear the khawo< sing *, « And 9« the Urboosh.toUed ^le close of day. She heard her ratthful Bah-wo^ whimper- insr. ( " Kooftah ; the dog is ikonffeving;" she said, " And too stuck up, I reokon, to eat bread." Stralgrhtway she opened the ke-yew-ubbahrd door For thedim telle of the soup— a bone ; "While Bah-wow sat expectant on the floor, Apd pounded with. his tail in monotone, But me put on hM* khaUadon, and said, * lliere is no meM ; by-jhings ; you must eat bread.' «lM to^ the Wa^ HMtjr tn her hand. And sought the Beled emen down tne 'While nte' Tow son across the desert's sand Touched with the hadramaut Akaba's feet, V^BMldclmr >hui«Ar, 4«i«k ahe touched her Yokoobet H4fed, haben sie auph brod f l%aB raise* har Ihcertu the air and nnllMl, UUldhc wb^ HuedTsomewnat Mark-Ml on her score twelve oeats insteao of etebt. But when Fatlma reached her rancho— zounds < Bah-wow had songfat the happy-huntings grounds. In speechless grief she dashed upon the floor The loaf, for lack of which the dog went dead. She paused one moment, at the open door; ' No, he's too thin for saumges, she said, ' Sihoud, mebanna drahv jab el wqggln T (Give me a cracker-box to put my dog Ifc.) But at the door abe stops and gives a, shriek That can be heard at Nfdjed, fourteen miles. For the dead Bah-wow, placid, bappv, sleek. Sits up alive, looks in ner face, and smiles, ' Islam Abdullah 1 Nassir^l-wahed aiatohet I' Which means, ' Just wait a minute, and you'll catch It K She sought the bazar of the Rheoetovnian, And cried; 'Ahl Wilkin, I would buy a boot, Strong as-ft denick, that will boost a man High as the price of early northern fruit.' She put it on, and found her dog, the btute, At the front window, playing of the flute. Then she was mad. ' By Ibrahim's beard,' she yelled, ' r rather hear a double-barreled bassoon ;' She raised her fobt; with rage her bosom And theivsbe lif:ed Bah-wow to the moon, 'Wadliiouariek! Qhattee! he ki.yi'd, Which means, ' I wish I'd stayed dead when I dled."- Slow sinks the sun; the tarboosh on the jeld By the kafusha's marabout is thrust; And scarce a mourzouk in the negah held, Breathes in the h«i,unted bustchufuUah's crust. While the gafallah aings thoBadween chants Likewise his sistahs, cuzzhans, and hysahutta. WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR? ' What are we here for, ' asked Goethe, **if not to make transitory things lasting?" Oh, matiehless poet, that s what we think and that's what we are trying to do ; but -when a fellow has worn the same ulster three winters and two summers, the dawn of its third ofcte as a duster finds its trarsitonness outvoting its iMtingness ^ight to seven, and what is courage, ambition, or genios going to do about it ? THE BOYS AND THE APPLES. Now when the autumn was oome it waa so that the land of Burlington ami the country round about abounded with much apples, so that the sound of the cider press ceased not from mominff even unto the night. And in ^e morning the husbandman •rose, and he said. Go, to, apples is not worth much, but so Much as they will fetch I will hsf-e. And he laded up his waggon, andflUed its bed evmi to ovarflowing with bell-flowers, and seek-no*faPtliers, and HAWK-EYKS. r, I on the jeld ust; gah held, lullah's cnut; w^n chants nd hysahutta. FOR? ked Goethe, gs lasting?" 'i we think to do; but i ulater three dawn of itB irarntoviness to Mven, and nine going to PPLEa me it was w the country h appfefl, so w ceased not ht. husbandman plea is not •ywill fetch hi« waggon, owing with khers, and WBts insteao of aneho— zounds ( \ happjr-huntingo^ pon the floor the dog went open door; I. she said, wqg^iii r ly dOB Ifc.) res a. shriek I fourteen miles, lappv, sleek. , ami sniiee, lad ifMtohet I' iHte, and you'll ■'I Btonnan, .\ ttd buy a boot, ^ta.Qian lern fruit.' , tfaebrute, theflute. m's beard,' shf '■ bassoon ;' ge her bosom the moon, I'd, dead when I ■dttiiihesses, and tfritzbergmts, and mow apples and russets, each after ^is hind. • And when he was come nigh to the town, lo, three town ' boys met him and apoke unto him delicately, and said, Give us a napple. And his heart was moved with good nature, and he hearkened unto their words, and said unto them, Yea, climb in, and eat ypur filL And as he journeyed on he met yet two other boytu And they waxed bold whentii^ saw the first three riding and eating apples, and tlveyor^d aloud ! Give us snapple. And the man spake unto them and said Yea. And they clome in. And they spake not one to another, neither ^d they cease to eat apple, save -when they paused that they ■riiglit take breath. «, And the liusbandman made merry and laughed with himself to see them eat, and and he said ; Ho, ho ; Ho, ho ! But the lad? laughed not, for they were busy. ^ow the eldest of the lads was thirteen years old, and the youngest thereof, was in his ninth year. And they were exceedingly lean and ill-favoured. And wlien the husbandman was entered into tl'.e city be drave along the streets, and lifted up his voice and shouted aloud, Ap- palls ! Ap-puUs ! Here's yer nighseatinnap- pies ! Ap-pulls, Ap-pulls ! And the women of the city leaned over the fences and said, one to another, Lo, another rapple waggin. And they spake unto the man and aayt,iia«t thou of a verity good eatiniMpnles? ^d he said. Of a verity I have. C(mM forth. And when they were come forth they looked into his waggon, and they were wroth and cried out agailist him. And they said. Thou hast ihooked us and thou has deceived thine hand-maidens with the words of thy mouth. Verily thcu hast naught ; where- fore dost thou drive thmragh the city crying, Ap'-ptills ? And when he had turned hkn aroimd and looked he was speOehleSB. And the wotnMi erf the eity criod, Gto to ; are not thy words altogethor lighter than vanity? Ana he MQote i^non bis breast aud sware unto thMn, aayinnk i wi a truthful man and tho son of a tnithial mm. Wbon thy wr- tWhtlefthtMaMB tMimoTttinf th«M 'Wat evaa thirty-seven bushels of-Napfosiialihe WMBOn bed. Now there wai iW4helo. And the huslsadmau nooked tho lads, and entreatedithem rongUy, fitrhefSMd, What is it that VB have dcsw ? For ye have oast my ap^ee mtto the otnset. Bututwerefii»> I qpc41 the ■bwv ' Have your hair trimmed, sir ?' I believed not. ' Needs it very badly, sir ;' he said, ' looks very ragged.' I never argne with a barber. * I said, ' All right, trim it a little, but don't make it any shorter. ' He immediately trimmed all the curl out of it, and my hair naturally, you know, has a very graceful curl to it. I never dis- covered this myself until a few months ago, and then I was verj' much surprised. I dis- covered it by looking at my lithograph. Well, anyhow, he trimmed it. On the sixth of December I was at Bath, Maine. Again I was slia'.ed. ai d again the harl)er iniploreatient in the obair'by the nose. i Jim fatifled his laughter, and replied : ' This gentleman had his hair trimmed down in Maine. ' There was a general burst of merriment all over the shop, and the apprentice laid down the brush he was wishing, and came over to look at the Maine cut, that lie might never ° furget it. I surrendered. ' rrim it a little, . then,' I groaned, 'but in the namii of humanity, don't cut it any shortei'.' \\ lien I left that shop, if it hadn't been for my ears, my hat wouhl have fallen down clear on my shoulders. When I reached the hotel, everyliotly started, anped from Sing Sing, and looked from the bill to myself very intently. That night several of the audience drew revolvers as I came out on tht platform. Then T went to Amsterdam, New York. The barber of that sleepy village, who, in the interval of his other duties acts ;vs mayor of the town and edits the local papers, undertook to shave me with a piece ol hoop iron he pulled out of his boot leg. When I resisted, he went out into the kitchen, and came back with a kitchen knife and a can opener, and offered me my choice. I selected the can opener, and he began the mas.sacre, remarking iucint got down on his kne«g and lool|c- ed in. ' It ItK^d like a tabbit, ' he said, and he opened the trap. ' Btit it doesn't amell likadily like oiVe, ' he adde4 stuHy ; and When he went to the house Mrs. MfarcheitionttttlKie him 9tandin the'backjrard whHe she aitop- p^ her nbse ap Wfth Wm oltty aitad nnd^ess^ THE CHINESE QUESTION. And now the Chinese claim that the tele- Ehone is nearly two thousand years old, aving been in use about that time in their country. Oh, pagans with the almond ev^ there is something that is older than th» telephone ! Lying i It is (44er thvi the gt9>A Chinese ««IL It is older than the city of ?«kitt. Ift i* m old aa th« &n% Inese tustorian^-aBd tAtQu% m nltiiMt. city Chin — BB HAWK-EYES. If ' Each Iieart Mr. Maruhe- ered what he for. S. 1 Bazouk of ee the only Wednesday ;en cleaning s naturally a ought for a and finally lling intona- i him with a »f terror, ' or nggy ' fore him like A TRUE FABLE. I e also rose, ]t it down in got up and ; turned red iself growing mfo/table. i I saw your oughly bass e face upon man who self, on the vain to corrugated that I saw etting new ana the tnkins' car- and acted e on the never gets ON. at tho tele- yeara old, in their le almond >lder than alder tba^ thMthe ■eluiMA. A Kansas male, of the brindle denomina- tion, was standing in a pasture field, backed up nncomfbrtamy close to a mild-eyed jsteer. The mule was not feeling in a very good hnmour. He had lo«t his railroad ticket, or had a note to lift, or somebody ha turns around hs though he )n purpose. ' g at the »ti< uoutinued the ;;mut overalla I e ird, anna ) the elbows, ' miss him ; ding there at t sunrise, he anyliody he ees anybo«ly 8 to ; would ould happen fo ; isn't paid [as nothing ays there. If bes ahead of r it and has the train is it. You see ' and saya [said. ster, I, he m runs over rs " Huh :' ttle closer p gets outs of nan who sits led, of wliistling sted the Ad- .nything that ith is nearly s to tell you jhy merchant lim the last 10 bites off then, while )ur shoulder the weather the car at and out on h one of a a good one, Er last seat ter him?' girl ^et oa e Adjuster, itowD, the ore oolourt' ; -than yoo can cirowi into a chromo, half the town down at the attation to see her off ; she waDu acroM the platform, feeling just a little too rich to look at, comes into the car with her head up and plumes flying, expect- ing to Mt every woman in that car wild with envy aa she walks down the aisle ; she opens the do(»- and sees a car full of Chicago girls, dressed in the rich, quiet elegance of Gtty girls in their travelling costumes, and see bow she drops like a shot into the Brst seat, the one nearest the st'ove, and looks straight out of the window and never looks anjrwhere else, and never shakes her plumes again while she stays in the car?' ' And the man who wants to talk. ' I said ; 'the man who would probably die if he couldn't talk five minutes to every one he rides with ; who glares hungrily around the car until his glance rests on the man whom he thinks is too feeble to resist him, and then pounees down on him and opens the intellect* ual feast by asking him how the weather is down his way ; the man who is always most lded both {trms about tins dog of hia heart. ' Nov you don't ! ' he .shouted ; ' no, you don't. I've got letters for that dog. I've got a letter for that dog from the auperin* tendent of the division. Thia dog goes witiv me!' And he danced up and (lown the platform with excitement, while the brakesman help- ed hia biide on the train, and then tiie young husband followed, clinging to that precious doc. Now, do you know I wanted to take that girl's hands (having previously seat a Eostal card home for permisbiouj, and say to er : ' Dear young woman, confide in me. Al- low me to collar vour husband. Thep do you brace yourself against the side of the car, and kick him so high that all the dogs in America will have starved to death before he comes down. ' But I didn't say anything, party came back into the there was a scene. The at the dog uneasily, and lowed it was kind dogs into de parlour But when the sleeper, then portel' Icokec'. said he ' al- of onregular, tottiu' cars.' And whatever misgivings he may have had on the subject were speedily cleai'eoked. laughing, lone chick- tenderly in by the el- brakeaman n baggage came out face, but it a happy ide'a arm» dog of hi» ; 'no, you dog. I've e superin- ; goes witlv le platform m)an holp- the young it precioua take that seat a and say to 1 me. Al- Thep do ol the the dogs ath before when the )cr, then Icokec'. he ' al- n- ■r. totiiu' whatever subject seuger — a broad un ' that he word of with the lair oilt a iatly hair sl«, as he out from >f a man. who is not going into society, immediately. His bare-feet spread out on the floor, his suspenders dangled down behind him, his fat face glowed with rage, and he roared out to the porter : * Out with that dog. No dogs sleep where I do. I ain't used to it and I won't have it. Trundle him out. ' Hold on there, ' cried the confident hus- band, * that dog's all right. I've got let- ters ' ' Blast your letters, ' roared the old party. 'The wh(ue United States post-office depart- ment can't crowd a dog in on us. Tell you, young man, it ain't right ; it ain't decent, and by gum, it ain't safe. Body of a man in the baggage-car now, in this very train, that was bit by a lap-dog two weeki ago while he was asleep, and died just eleven days afterward. Country's full of mad dogs.' This was a lie about the dead man, but it, woke everybody in the car, set all the wo- men to screaming, and armed public senti- ment against the dog. ' 6ut I tell you wie dog isn't mad,' per- sisted the owner, ' and he U have to stay in here. I have letters from the superintendent of the division ' ' Blast the superintendent !' roared the asthmatic passenger, triumphantly, ' he's got nothing to do with the sleeping ear. Take the dog intu a day coach and shut him up in a wpod-box. Throw him over- l)oard. I don't care what you do with him, but he can't stay here. ' ' But, my dear sir, ' pleaded the young man. * Don't want to hear nothiug !' yelled the fat passenger, * I don't travel with a mena- gerie. Nobody wants your dog in here !' ' No ! Nobody t Nobody wants him !' came in hearty, fearless chorus from the other berths, the chorus carefully and mqdestly keeping itself out of sight, so as not to de- tract from the power of the solo, who was gasping out the most terrific denunciations of all dogs in general, and especially this one particular dog. 'But my dog ' the young man pleaded. ' Devil take your dog, sir, ' the old passen- ger would gasp, ' what is your dog or any man's dog to my comfort ? I say I ahan t sleep with him in this car. He can't stay here. ' Well, the upshot o| it was, the dcg had to emigrate into a day coaoh, aud it is,a gospel fact that that man, just, married,- witli the prettiest brid^ that has been seen in this couutry (since eight years ago) didn't know whether to sit iu the day coach and hold his dog all night, or stay )>aok in the sleeper with his wife. He trotted io and out, and every time he came iu, the glistening hea^ of t^ fat piMMen^ would pQk,e out frofs between the curtains, aild he would meet the reproachful glances of the b<^re4iTe4 young man with a stony glare that woqld have detected the presence of tiiat dog had the young man even attempted to smugglf him into the car by shutting him up m »• watch-case. A TWILIGHT IDYI* They were sitting on the front porob aa* joying the evening air, and gazing at the canoi»y of heaven thickly studded witk glittering stars. ' How incomprehensible, ' exclaimed Mr. Ponsonlyy, ' is the vastness of nature ! Each glittering orb of the myriads we now behold is a sun more glorious than our own, and tiie centre of a grand planetary system, and their centi'es, in their turn, re- volve around other centres still more mag' nificent. How wonderful are the eternal laws which hoh) this universe of worlds in their unchanging orbits, and ' 'Yes,' said Mrs. Ponsonby, ' and the man didnt bring up half enoagh ice to-day, and I'm just certain that cold corn beef will spoil before morning. Did you order those salt cod-fish to- day ? ' CURIOUS STRANGiR. When the delegate from the Ifawkeyt wae travelling iu tlie East, reaping tlie winter harvest of shekels that the cultured people of that section of the country are wont to shower upon the Western lecturer, brimful of information — and asthma, if, ho travels much iu Maine — he met a good many curi- ous persons, who were not absolutely hedged in and hermetically sealed by the shell of re- serve which enclosed the good people of Boston, when the stranger approached them | a reserve that, as to Bostonians, only mantles a wealth o| good fuUowsliip ; delightful companiont hip, warm, broau-heartea hu< manity underlies this reserve, when a closer acquaintance has worn it through, and this rattier repellant ^serve, which the stranger is almost always apt to misunderstand and misconstrue, iH tlie characteristic of all Eastern people. Once in a while, however, you meet an Eastern man who is as charm- ingly free from any cold, unsociable reserve as von could wish. While on my way to Bath, a ahip-carpen« ter got on the train at Portland and sat dowa beside me. Pretty soon, after an off' hand remark aliout the weather, he said t ^4 HAWK-EYES. i . ' Doea this oar run right tl/rough to Bath?" t Baid I didn't know, I believe n did, but I never was on this road before. Then ' the stranijer ' stood revealed in his accent and his confession of ignorance, and the ship-carpenter c.-vst off all reserve, put on thd pumps and immediately applied the auction. 'Had I ever been in this country be- fore?* * Never ; I had never been in New Eng- .Iftnd until a week aeo." Then be " wanted to know.' >I made no objection. Then he reckoned I was going to Bruno* wick or Bath ? * Yes, 'I said, 'I was.' ■* Which one ?' he asked. -Bath ' It was none of his business, he saidj but %e reckoned I was going to Bath on some ikind of speculation ? ' No, ' I said, ' no speculation ; I was going there on a legitimate deal. ' ' Now ?' he asked. ' On regular business, ' I said. It was none of his business again, but what was my business at Bath ? ' I was going there to talk. ' Yes ; and who was I going to talk to ? ' "To anybody who would listen to me. Oil, yes ; I had something to sell them ? I might sell an audience, I said ; I had (done such a thing. Yes ; well, 'n course I didn't want to sell my busiiic^^o, it was all right. There "wa'n't no harm in asking. Was I from Boston? No. It wa'n't none of his business again, but I might be from New York ? No. If it wa'n't a secret where was I from ? Burlington. Oh, yes ; up in Vermont. No. pause. 'Didn't I say 'No?' A long Burlington T ' Yes. * But it wa'n't Burlington, Vermont ? * 'No.' ' Ha ; there was another Burlington, then ? ' Yes. Where ? •In Nebraska.' Eagerly, ' And I was from Burlington, Nc- t)raBka, then ? ' Oh, no. Dejectedly, ' Then there was a Burlington somewhere else still ? ' Yes. •Where?' Wisconsin. • What part of Wisconsin? ' Southern, not far from Elkhorn. Cautiously, ' And was that the Burlington I was from ? ' Oh, no. • Ha ; what Burlington might I be from f ' Burlington, Iowa. • That was my home ? ' Yes. • What did I do when I was home f • Played with the baby. • Yes, but what was my business f * Wrote for the newspapers. • What newspapers ? ' Hawkeye. ' Ha ; then I was the man that was to lecture in Bath to-night ?' Yes. Then he • wanted to know, ' but without saying what, went into another seat, ctirled up and went to sleep, and I drew on my lap folio a pen -picture of my incj^uisitor, that was to serve as a fateful wammg to the next Eastern inquisitor who dared to dead-head an Iowa lecturer out of twenty-five cents' worth of valuable occidental information. gomg The other day a Burlington man, while digging a well, found a carvinff-fork, sixty* thi-ee feet Kelow the surface of the ground. The fork was very much the same style as those of modern make, and was very little maiTed or damaged, beyond a craolc in the fore handle. The question is, how did it ever come so far below the ground ? An- swer : the man's wife threw it at him when he went to dig, because he refused to buy her a new hat to wear to the circus. STUFFING A STRANGER. A gentleman has just sat down beside me, and as he measures four and a half feet from tip to tip of the elbows, he has to lay one el- bow in the pliant hollow of my arm. It is not easy to write and hold a man's elbow at the same time, and I will not continue the effort. In this instance the labour is ren- dered doubly difficult by the burning anxiety which the gentleman feels to know what I am writing about. And every time he leans forwanl to see, he bores into nw anguish- stricken ribs with his elbow. When I put away this manuscript he is goin^ to ask me questions. Then I will lie to him. Man of the elbow, stranger of the anxious mind, prepare to be misled and deceived, prepare to be staifed plumb full. Well, I tttfdhiml I cc wl an ill m Ic II HAWK-EYES. «^' «d. Mach of a place, your town ?' he aek- m. le Burlingtoa tlbefromf lome f • 1688?' at was going but without ' seat, curled w on my lap ior, that was to the next ;o dead-hea'd (T-five cents' >rmation. man, while fork, sixty* the gi^und. ne style as very little rack in the how did it und ? An- ; him when 3ed to buy M. beside me, " feet from ay one el- irm. It is elbow at utinue the ' >ur is ren- ng anxiety >w what I le he leans anguish- '^hen I ptit o ask me Man of us mind, i, prepare ' Oh, yes, ' 'I said, with the matter-of- course carelessness of a citizen of the great western metropolis, ' about forty-five thous- and, I gi'.ess.' The man eyed me wi'.h keen, awakening interest. ' So big as that ?' he said. I nodded, and he presently said, ' Well, I had no idea there was such a large city in Iowa. State must be pretty well settled up, I reckon ?' I said, ' Yes, it was. Some portions of it pretty wild, though. ' ' Any large game in the State ?' ' Herds of it,' I said. 'I killed deer last winter not two miles from the Burlington court house,' I pacified my conscience for this lie by ex- plaining to that rebellious and vociferous nonitor that there was no Burlington court house, that it was burned down seven years ago, and the county was waiting until it could buy a second-hand court-house for $1.75, before replacing it. Therefore I could truthfully say that I killed all the deer that came wit^n two miles of our court house. ' I want to know !' the native exclaimed. ' Do you, though ?' thought I, ' then I'll tell you. ' And so I went on, ' Why the wolves, only two years ago, made a raid into Burlington and killed all the chickens on South Hill.' Ck>nscience raised a terrible protest at this, but I hushed it up too quick, by citing the well-known case of Meigs Schenck's wolf that got loose and in one single summer night ate up everything on South Hill that wore feathers. The native looked astonished and doubly interested. ' Any Indians ?' he said. ' Laud, yes, ' I told him, yawning wearily, as one who talks of old, stale things ' Sit- ting Bull was educated at the Baptist Col- legiate Institute, in Burlington, and was expelled for trying to scalp Professor Wort- man with a horse-shoe magnet. ' ' You don't tell me t' exclaimed the native, in wild amazement. By this time I' ^nui Eerfeotly reckleee, and told conscience to eep it« month shot and give me a ohmoe. •Oh, yes,' I said. 'Yellow Wolf's old medicine lodge ia still standing, right out on West Hill. The Indians come into the city very frequently, tearing through the streets on their wiry little ponies. ' ' Ever have any trouble with them ?' the man asked. • Oh, no^' I said oarelessly, seldom do. The cow-boys, from Texas with cattle, hate and occasionally drop one of streets just for revolver practice. But nc» body else interferes in their fights. ' ' I suppose, ' the man said, * you aS carry revolvers strapped around you, oat there ? 'Oh, yes,' I replied, 'of course. We have to ; a man never knows when he is going to have trouble with somebody, and in case of any little misunderstanding, it wouldn't do for a fellow not to be heeled. ' I think the man shuddered a liiitle. Then fearing he might ask to look at my revolver, I casually remarked that I never carried my barkers when I came East. He said no, he supposed not. * Then he looked out of tlie window a long time and said nothing. Finally I asked him in what part of Maine he made his home. He looked up at me in surprise. * Me ?' he said, ' Lord, I don't live in this rocky patch. I'm only on here visiting some relatives.' In a feeble voice I asked him where did he live, then ? The man yawned, and again looked list- lessly out of the window. 'Oh,' he said, " I live on a farm just out by Leffler's ; about six miles out of Burlington. I wish I was back there now. ' So did I. So did I. I wished he had never left there. We didn't talk together any lonarer. Shortly after that the weather changed, the car grew very cold, and I went into the s noking car to look for a fire. 'the citiKeni who oome up them terriblYi them ia the ' Suppose, ' said a brow-beaten Clarinda lawyer to a witness he was trying to badger, ' suppose I should tell you I could bring a dozen men of your \ Mi 26 HAWK-EYES. 'i:§ ropm at eight o'clock oo the morning of Sa- turday, December 21, 1878, will deceive pas- sengers. He lied to me. I saw my baggase re-checked, and got the check3 in my hand. Then I said : ' You'll get it on this 8:05 train ?' ' No, ' the baggage-man said, ' I can't. ' ' Then, ' I wailed, ' give it to me ; I can caiTy it, and I must have it on this train. ' For it was only heavy hand baggage. But the baggage-man would not. He only said incredulously : ' No, if you can get on that train, your baguage will be on before you are.' ' Sure ?' I asked anxiously, for I had my misgivings. ' Yes, ' he insisted, ' I can get the baggage on before you can get ou. ' 'All right,' I shouted, 'don't fail me, now.' , I got on the train and nat down. I get up and went out on the platform and looked for the baggage-man. Over all the wide ex- panse of platform he was not visible. I thought he was either teiribly slow or had been marvellously vapid. The train pulled out. That baggage-man, after I left him, sat down aud played a couple of games of check- ers ou a trunk. Then I think he went to sleep. Then, I believe, lie awoke, rubbed his eyes, looked at my valises, kicked them to see if there was anything in them that would break, and said, dreamily and Richard (Irant Whitely, ' There's that feller's baggage that wanted 'em to go to Providence on the 8:05.' Measureless liar ! by his wicked deceit he s^-iit me to North Attleboro with just about as much of a wardrobe as a tramp. And I never got my baggage till the Monday mpming following. Why did he lie to me ? Why didn't he give me my baggage, when be knew in hia vioioua, depraved, prevaricating heart that he was 'nt going to try to get my baggage on that traip ? We do these things oetter in the West. Why, en the old reliable Chicago, Bui4ington fk Quinov Railroad, from the time the Brst spike was driven, there nevec w«a a piece of baggage lost or left, there was never a pamienger misled or deceived, there never was a train reached a station off schedule time but one, and it came in ten seconds ahead, and since Potter has been superin- teudeiit, a man's baggage always gets to the hotel iihirty minu^s ahead of him and spread^ out his clean linen to air for him. Some Indian mounds, supposed to be three ot fouc tboutand years .old or so, vera re- cently opened near Beloit, Wisconsin, and the first thing the excavators dug out were a couple tf railroad passes and an autograph album. Thus we see the early dawn of re- mote civilization mingles with the gray shadows of the a;< ns that — of the aeons— the seons — the gray shadows of the aeons. . .<¥k>ns. Gray shadows of the seons. RAILROADING DOWN EAST. Railroadiug is exciting business in this country. On most of the New England roads trains run both ways every nftepii seconds. On busy days they put on a few extras, and 4he freights never count for any- tliing. Wlien you come from Providence to Foxboro', not ' east ' or ' west ' or ' north ' or ' south ' or ' middle ' or ' upper ' or ' low- er ' or ' old ' or ' new ' Foxboro', but just plain, raw, unvaruished and untitled Fox- boro', you h»\ve your choice of coming straight through or taking a train by which you must change cars at Mansfieli'.^f you h \.ve to change cars you get oil' at Manetield, ami find three or four trains, all headed in different directions, all impati«mtk tO jump away like rockets, and you climb into one and sail away, and the conductor comes along, ^'^oks at your ticket and says, ' wrong tram, and holds out his hand for ten. cents. When do you get a train back V Eleven and one-half seconds. Back you go clear through; ' this train doesn't stop at Mansfield. ' When can you get a train that does ? Three minutes. Up you go asain. That train doesn't stop at Fox- boro. In four minutes you have passed through the town, you stfike the train that possesses the happy qualifications of going in the right direction aud stopping at the E roper placs, and you are at Foxboro . You ave travelled on five different railroads, in eleven different directions, have gone one hundred and twenty-three miles, and got t» Foxboro' in eighteen minutes. It is no off-hand thing for the guileless, untutored child of the 'west to go anywhere intjw barbaric orient. You aay to the man at mK ticket office : ' I want to go to North Haddock.'* ' Yes,' he says, ' which way do you want to go?' And you learn that thaw are five ways to go ; via all sorts of -fordt, aUd -tonii and ' I want to go by the -dams and junctions. ' Well, ' you say, shor^t route. ' And he tells you that as far >w time is conoemed, by which all railroad men mea- suni di9tan4«» they are all about alike ; yQufllfef« tberfe at just about the same time. You aire pafltled, but suddenly think of m way witl| mail f' doni cat Tl •AH SI li sele< I road five! if tH atj i 1 i Tr^m NMT HAWK-EYES. 87tl EAST. 3S8 ill this iv England ery fifteen ! on a few int for any- ovidence to or ' north ' iv ' or ' low- , bat just titled Fox- of coming I by which '^f you hive eld, and find n different away like :s and sail ilong, 'voks tram, and When do d one-half through ; Mansfield. ' ain that Up you >p at Fox- ve passed train that s of going )ing at the )ro . You rilroads, in gone one and got t» guileleeia, anywhere the man you want e ways to tons and . ''' ' I by tha time is nen mea- t alik^; me time, ink of ft way. by whicl^ y^fi^ choice can be ma4«. You ' All rigbti give me a. ticket by the route M'ith the fewest changes. ' ' Oh, welt,' the man says, ' it doesn't I make any dilference aa far as that goes. You don't have to change ; you get into a through ' car whichever route you ta£e. ' There is somethii^g beautiful about tliat, as sure as you're bom. You immetliately select your route at random, go the longest way aiouni^ and get there fii'st. It is a lovely country for travellers. And such roads. Look at this manuscript. Thirty- five miles an hour and not a jog in it. Or if there is, the compositor put it in, and it is a typographical error. And then they always offer you a choice of tickets. One that sends you right through on the jumpi and won't let you stop a min- ute, and anothti kind that will permit you to loiter along the way for a month. THE METRIC SYSTEM. The railway stiitiona in New England are nieasled with the charts of the metric sys- tem. By the time a man has waited for trains at two or three junctions, he has learned as much about the metric system as he can foi'get in ten minutes. I studied a chart in the station at Mansfield, while waiting for a train to Foxboro', and it has puzzled me ever since to know why a poly- meter of water should equal a centipede of cloth, or why the measure of two kilometers of wood sh9uld be identical with a decimeter of oata. People who know assure me that it is the finest, most convenient and most perfect system in the world. If that is so, th^re is ectmetbing wrong about that chart at Mansfield, because, just after I had figur- ed out that a duckometor was exactly a mile and three-quarters long, I read a foot-note stating that a ducHometer was thi ' minim ' of apothecaries' measure. There certainly is something weird about it. TdE TROUBLES OF THE TALL MAN. Just after I left Foxboro', a tall man sat down in the seat iu front of me. I had no- ticed him standing wearily about on tiie platform, and I pitied him. My heart was full of sympathy lor him. I am always sor- ry for a tall man. Sometimes, when I get before an audience, and have to stand on mv tip- toes to look over the foot-light^ I wish I waa a trifle tailor than I am. But this longing ia only nu^entary. It passes away as aoon as I sM aa unutuaUy tfll mn. Y'oa tjc^ a Teiy t«ll nMiiis always puraued^hauBt- ed, by one unvarying joke. Every short qi^ . ordjj^ary -sized nt^n tliat approaebes hipi;' throws back his head« a^ects to (raze up intot,: t^ heavens with a painful effort, and aska^ . ' Isn't it pretty cold up where you are?' Just watcj^the next short man you see meet a tall ope, and see if this conundrum doesn't follow the first grcieting. Just watch and see if you do not apk it yourself. And this, . ; must be dreadfully wearing on the tall man. ^ I have observed that as a rule big men, taU- men, are good-natured. It is we little fellowa vv ho liave waHpiiii tempers. So the tall man nevei' resents this venerable joke by sitting down on the manytvho gets it off'. He smiles- , drearily, and witn a weary effort to appear 4 interested, and tries to look as though he had never heard it before. It must be a perfect torture for the tall man to hear this question Kfty times a day for thirty or forty years. SometimuH, when I hear a doeen men ask a tall man oi iny acquainta ice thia question, in direct succession, and see him/' endure it so patiently, I wish I was the Colossus of Illiodes, and a little man, four feet eleven and a half, would come up to me some day when I felt right good, and stare up at me with a grin longer than his body, . andaskme'if it wasn't pretty cold up tliere?' and I would hold him up by theneok, and I would swing my brazen leg until it gut th(^ motion and the impetus of a wall • i ig-beam, and then I would kick the little feUow so high that he could read the names of the streets on the street lamps in Uranus,, and I would sarcastically shout after him, ' No, it's red hot !' Have tall men no rights that we, who live eight or ten inahes nearer the earth, are bound to respect? ' Of what is milk composed ?' asked the professor. And the smart, bad boy that has to study through vacation, replied, ' one part oxygen to two of hydrogen. ' The pro- fessor looked incredulous, ' Well, not quite so bad as that,' he said ; ' anything else ?' * Sometimes, ' said the smart, bad noy, * a little tinctuira of lactic acid or aQme oaseoua matter.' The professor sent him to his room and told liim the next time he wanted to analyze milk he mustn't buy it so near tha river. TOO LATE FOE A TICKET. The happieat travelling companion I hav« met this winter was Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, whom I met ou a train aoi)iewher«(U in OentraL New York. Off the pUtfwmt and Iiiexpeet on the platform aa well» he !»{.,# as bsppykod OMre>firee aa » boy fourtauv 28 HAWK-EYES. . ! U ,*'•:■ \m yean old. He ia ranning over with fun, and stories, and reminisoencee, and I thiuk the fifty miles I rode with him were the shortest and happiest of my pilgrimage. A grand, a thoroughly fl;rand man I One time he went down to Boston to ^o- ture. In the afternoon he went into a bar- ber shotx of great tone and refinement in Tre- mont Place, to get shaved. The barber was a earrulous fellow, s Polish Count, judging from his manner — perhaps the Count Bozenta Modjeska, who knows? — who entertained Mr. Beecher, while he lathered his face, with intellectual conversation. He asked, ' Are you going to the lecture this^vening? Going to the lecture ?' 'Oh,' Mr. Beecher replied, wearily, as a man who didn't take much stock in lec- tures, • I don't know ; who'se going to lec- ture ? ' •Why,' the amazed barber exclaimed, * Rev. Henry Ward Beecher ; Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, of Brooklyn. Groing to lecture to-night, in Music Hall. " Mr. Beecher roused up a little with an air of indifierent interest. ' Oh, well, ' he said, * if he's going to lecture. I euess I'll have to go.' • Got your tickets ?' the barber rattled on. ' Got your tickets ? Got your ticket ?' * No, ' Mr. Beecher replied, • I have no ticket. ' / The barber laughed rnentily, ' Ha, ha, ha !' he shouted. ' You'll have to stand np ; you'll have to stand up ! Seats all gone two days ago ; you 11 have to stand up. ' ' Well, now, ' said Mr. Beecher, with an air of grave vexation, ' do you know, that is just my luck? I was in Brooklyn last Sunday, and went over to Plymouth Church twice, to hear that fellow preach,morningandevening, and both times I had to ?tand up all through the sermon. ' And as he went away, the st 11 unen- lightened barber lauehed at the man who would ' have to stand up ' at Mr. Beecher's lecture. RAILROAD SLEEPERS. Thus far, I have passed the greater pirt of the winter of 1878 in getting up at 2 o'clock in the morning to catch trains. Early rising may be verv beneficial to as healtli- promoting habit, uut it isn't the sweetest thing on earth as an amusement, or a simple means of ! ...in'? time. And then, if yo« ride on the cars all that day, yon get aleepy. And you sleep a little. Now, you cant slAep when yon first cnt •n the oar. You are wide awak«. Th» OK is alway odM at that ttneartbly.an^l; un- christian hour. And yon have to either sit on the wood-box or have a timid quarrel with some man travelling on a pass or a half -fare ticket to make him let you have a small fractional part of one of the four seats he has spreaa himself out over. If you don't weigh any more than myself^ you do as I do — pick out the crossest-look- ing brakesman on the train, call him ' con- ductor,' and give him half a dollar to get you a seat. Aud it just makes the immortal gods lie down on the grass aud hold their ambrosia- scented breath to see him waltz in and stir up the menagerie. But along about ten o'clock you begin to grow most intolerably sleepy. This is part- ly owing to the fact tl the car is now delightfully warm and comfortable, but it is chiefly because the car is at this time about as full of passengers as it is going to be, and about two-thirds of the number are women. It is a supremely comfortablo feeling ibat comes creepiue over a man, just as he sinks into profound slumber. But it is ex- t'.ejr.cly I'.iuitiiyiiijj fur him to wake very suddenly, with the scalding' consciousness that he has been sleeping for nearly eigh- teen miles in the regularly ordinary day- coach fashion, with his head hanging down over the back of the seat, his mouth open so wide nobody could see his face, and the first thins; he sees when he opens his eyes is five girls, looking straight at him. It annoys him. It makes him teel that he appears at great disadvantage with the rest-of the passengers who are and hav« been wide awake. Even a married man, the masriedest man in the United States, old and out of tlie market, doesu't like to afford amusement in that way to the only pretty passengers on the train. Even a man with the best wife and the only boy worth having in America, feels that he has lost dignity under such circumstances. I am going to quit it. I shall cancel, without further pro- vocation, the next lecture engagement that is imph'cated with a peep o' day train. I am going to shut down on this early ris- ing. Somebody will get killed with this foolishness yet. Congress ought to pass a law, making early rising a capital oflence. By the time' one or two men were hanged for getting up at three o'clock, people will quit i«. If it isn't stopped, some man will get his eye put out with it. If — I mean when, I am president, I shall issue a |»roolamation oompelling all railway trains to start from all stations at 9 o'clock, ▲.H.— that's a#>od hour— and to arrive at aU •vtatioiu at not lAter thanScdO r. M. I HAWK-EYES. 29 \ to either sit imid quarrel a pass or a t you have a of the four it over. If ;han myself ;ro88e8t-look- %U him ' con- ar ta get you 'tal gods lie sir ambrosia- in and stir /on begin to This is part- e car is novr table, but it at this time b is going to number are ' feeling tbal just as he But it is ex- I wake very onsciousness nearly eigh- rdinary day- mging down seat, his mid see his as when he ing straight ces him feel intage with re and hav« rried man, I States, old ke to afford only prettv A man with 9rth having ost dignity n going to urther pro- :ement that rain. is early ris- with this to m»H a al offsnce. hanged for I will quit .n will get nt, I shall U railway •> o'clook, ) arrive at Or. M. I think I have about the correct views on rail- way legislation. A DISAPPOINTED ETYMOLOGIST. "Let me look at yonrdictionary a minute,' a poUte, well-dressed stranger asked, bow- ing into the sanctum in some haste yester- day morning. * Certainly, ' and we shoved Noah W. 's charming novelette, unexpunged edition, over to his side of the table. Long and earnestly looked the man. Then a dark frown settled down on his brow like a win- ter cloud. He banged the book down on the floor and kicked it. ' Blame such a dictionary, ' he roared, 'I wouldn't give a cent a thousand for such a book 1 It's got Independence, and Homestead, and Crescent, and Pilot, and Sandwich, and a whole host of them little towns in it, and never a men- tion of Burlington, or Keokuk, or Des Moine, or Chicago, or any big town in the whole book !' And he gave it a parting kick and was gone. CARDS vs. CP.OQUET. From the car window, I saw to-day the fii'st game ot croquet of the season. The gime possesses a singular interest for me. ne time, I rode more than fifty miles in a railway car, seated behind four men who were playing with those awful playthings of the devil — cards. They played euchre until they were tired of it : they played a little aeven-up, pedro, and occasionally a trifle of poker. I never heard a dispute. Their fre- quent bursts of merriment at some unex- pected play repeatedly drew my eyes from my book. They never quarrelled, and never once called names. When I got out at the station I sat at my window and watched a party of young men and maidens play cro- quet. In fifteen minutes I saw two persons cheat suocesnfully. I heard the one player who did nqjb cheat accused of cheai;ing five timed. I heard four distinct, bitter quarrels. I heard a beautiful young girl tell two lies, and a meek-looking young man three, and finally I saw the young girl throw her mallet so hard against a fence that it frightenc d a horse ; the other young girl pounded her mallet bo hard on the ground that it knocked the buds off Ba apple tree. They both banged into the house at different doors, and the two young men lo6ked sheepish and went off aftw a drink. Now, why is this ? Isn't croquet a good moral game ? A woman writes to find out what evil genius it is that always leads a man into the parlour to black ms boots on the best ottoman, rather than on the more convenient wood-l>ox in the kitchen ? And why a man always starts to Wiftk away from the wash- stand when he begins to wipe his face, and drops the towel half-way down the stairs, or out in the front yard, or wlierever he may be when his face is dried ? Good land, woman, do we know the unfathomable ? We suppose its the same impulse that al- ways makes a woman stand before the glass to comb her back hair or button the back of < her polonaise. THE PASSING OP THE TRAIN BOY. In the West the day was dying ; Wiiitry cloud ships near the sun. In a sea of crimson lyin^, Told the day was almost done. 0.1 his couch of pain and weakness, Pale and still the train boy lies. Beams his face with placid meekness, Glow with softened light his eyes. ' Comrades, on both sides surround me,' And he brightens with a smile ; * In two long lines stand around me, Make my couch the Pullman aisle.' ifiven as the wish he utters Round they stand with wond'ring stares. While in husky tones he mutters, ' Pears ? Fresh California pears? ' Then they tumble to his fancies And at passengers the play. While they snarl with surly glances, ' Naw ! ' ' Don't want no pears ! ' ' Go 'way T Then they closer stand around him. Bending low to hear htm say. As though in the car they found him— ' Peanuts I Koasted, fresh, to-day 1' T^en t^ey hoot in wild derision, And in answer to their scorn, Loud 1 e cries, with kindling vision, 'English walnuts? Fresh pop-comt All the latest and the best books ? Morning papers? "Journal," "Times,* "Daily Hawkeye." Roasted chestnuts i Don t be stingy with your dimes. * New-laid flgs? The best imported Hand-made Abyssinian dates i Train stops while you eat one : sorted For the trade in canvas crat«s.' Thus his strength oomes back with chafBng, And his comrades dry their tears ; From death's jaws he leaps, and laughing. Buns the train for fifty years. When Hamlet said, 'Seams, madam f Nay, I know not seams,' he was not talking poetry, but had just killed a sewiog-ih^hine agent in the front hall. --^ LOST HIB POOKET-BOOK. My troubles in getting ftom Sunsmit, New Jersey, to Herkimer, New York, in a snow- storm, betea at the Hoboken ferriea. There Use eiioagh ioe ia the river to start a new '^l» HAWK-EYES. ! :•'>< Greenland. Then, when at last I got across the river and up the Grand Central depot, I found I had just time t9 make the train if I flew around, and I couldn't find my pocket-book. I knew I hadn't lost it, or given it away, so I hunted for it. I have often laughed at a nervous, belated traveller searching for his pocket-book, while the jangling bells and hissing cylinder cocks out on the tracks drove him wild with nerv- ousness and terror. I will never laagh at him again. Believe me, there is nothing funny about it, nothing. ' You'll have time to get the train if you hurry,' the ticket-agent said. I felt in my hip pocket. No pocket-book there. I felt in my other hip pocket. A watch key, a chestnut, five newspaper clip- pings, two letters and a piece of string. No pocket-book. I went down into my inside vest pocket. No indication of a national bank in that vicinity. I dived into my •out- side vest pockets, and the sounding appura? tuB brought up hai^ Is of lint, broken matches, fragments oi wooden tooth-picks, hotel cards, eyeless buttons, and bits of lead- pencils. I plunged madly into the pockets of my coat. I brought up handkerchiefs, a pocket-comb, some visiting-cards, a ocnduc- tor's check — how did I manage to keep that? I wondered ; a calendar for 1879, a report- er's note-book, a hotel-key — for heaven's sake when and from where did I carry that off? — a pair of gloves, two time cards, and a pocket-map of New England, but nothing with which I could buy a ticket to Utica. My hands moved faster than the days on a promisbory note. The peoi>le in the depot Wghed a great deal Kna pitied a little. The 4»se was growing desperate. The man at the gate chanted, "All aboord f>r Albany and the West," and I went fairly wild with excitement. I inaugurated a sweeping investigation into the con- dition and contents of my overcoat prickets, and as I dragged the things out, I piled them upon the floor. Newspapers of various dates ; an ' O^cial railway guide,' with all the time-tables wrong and the ticket fares set down in the population columns ; a map of New York and Pennsylvania, a pair «ki «nyde|)es, a pocket- handkerchief, a vest buckle, a copy of Puck A^vlata 9rapAite» iiim^pniaB oi oota^ £ hat •full ol lint, sonie string m Tottnd «teiie, i Jblack owk-tie^MMl • lim^of ok«ik. Ho«nthepMple in tiie depot enjoyadil and took it all in. Only one man sincerely pitied me. He came up and watched me, while with feverish eagerness and frenzied haste I emptied those cisterns of pockets,and by and by he said : ' How fur ye going, mister ?' ' Utica, ' I gasped : 'Utica, if I go any- where. ' He fooked at me pityingly for a moment, while I went on wildly strewing the floor of the Grand Central depot with the chaos of thinge evolved from my pockets. • By gaul, ' be said, * I've a good mind to lend you the money. ' But just then, clear down at the bottom of an outside pocket, my missing national bank turned up. I got on the tram without even time to thank the tender-hearted NeM'- Yorker, and started on my way toward a snow-drift as big as the side of Pike's Peak. And when I got down to Herkimer this afternoon, I r^e down in a train consisting of three coaches and three engines. Engines are no object to the railroaders of this country where there is snow on the air. Last night you hear the sir go into convul- sions with the most terrific coughing and pUfiing that everstartled the night. Thee&rth trembles and quakesunder the straining, pant- ing engines. Here she comes. One locomotive passes you; two, three, four, five, six engines go straining and panting by. Now for the train. Ycu look to see a train that reaches from there to Rochester. There is one smoking car I A BASE FLATTERER. Jonesburg, Missouri. A touching incident has just obtruded itself upon the attention of tne passengers. A gentleman, it may be Mr. Jones himself for aught I know, has just got off the train very abruptly. He missed the two lower steps on tne car en- tirely, but he hit the pkaorm plumb eentre, breaking his fall oy dropping on a bird - cage he was 'carr3^ng. As a buffer a bird-cage is not a success. It ia yielding enough, but does not possess a suf- ficient degree of elasticity. . I am happy to state that although the (»ioe beftUtUul mrd- cage, as the gentleman angrily holdfl it up to examine it, now looks tike a gilded wire gridiron, the canuy is not dead. But iit i/i oooped up in th^ nanroweat cor- ner that » teirified onnary ever emmped its legs in. us HAWK-EYES. 31 nan sincerely WAtched me, and frenzied }f pocket0,and if I go any- >r a moment, ig the floor of the chaos Of 8. [ood mind to the bottom sin^ national train without hearted Ncm'- ay toward a Pike's Peak, erkinier this tin consisting aen. railroaders of w on the air. into convul- oughing and ;ht. Theeftrth ;raining,pant- ne locoinotive k six engines •fow for the k that reaches n. ling incident le attention , it may be know, has uptly. He Jtna oar en- lumb centre, ing on a ^ing. As cess. It is Dssem a suf- im bappy to ■Qtiftil bird- olds it up to a gilded not dead. rpWMt oor- oramped iU J BEAUTIFUL SNOW. A NKW AND RKVISEn EDmON. My visions of spring have taken the wing, and are oflF with the mght of the stork, and the climate to-dav, in a mild sort of way, re- minds me of Cfcutral New York. For the beautiful snow, as you probably know, has taken this country by storm ; and M'ith wonderful thrift it piles drift upon drift, in the very worst kind of bad form. The trains are delayed, and my lecture {>layed, for it's thirteen long miles to Oar- isle ; and the way it is snowing, and drift- ing and bldwing, thirty rods makes a pretty long mile. So despairing I wait till the storm shall abate, and some ki*\d of a train comes along, when, shorter and tleeter than any short metre, I'll cut off the rest of my song. But with portent most dire, still higher and higher, still pile up the drifts at the winder; with the roar of a gong* the storm sweeps along, and no one seems able to hinder. It's provoking, oh, very ; I thought February a season devoted to thaw ; but the ground hi»g- -I guess 'at het, just like neces'sity, knows neither season nor law. For the flakes whirling down I can't see the town ; I can't tell the .South from the Bend ; for all I can see, all the world except wa, has suddenly come to an end. It's just my blessed luck, in a drift to get stuck, and I think if I sought the equator, that a snow storm would foUer and fill every holler, with the drifts of a' seventy- eighter. FOREBODINGS. ' Blow, blow, thou winter wjmd. Thou art not so unky-ind As man's inRtat-chi-ude ; ' The folk at New Carlisle. With unbecoming smile. Will say, ' He might have Rot here if h« wude.' But how can a feller get anywhere. When the drifting sBowflf4|ies All the air. And the trains-are all behind ? When he can't do nothing but ttand and stare At the useless titne oaxds, here and there. That grimly answer his, emdouaatere Bv asiEing him ' >irhat he can And f d Very nuiuh like a ot abythttig tM) to * It^oeen't gong, hut 1 661 t Mctibnthmtf on Oie first srllahltof tMa olAHM. KqMfta»tt0ti»oCthi«Jin» wUl te m»« toei!frf£gno^«^i)aenwin»jear« aunsoiip* When the heat he can do is to aulk and mope, And vainly hope agaiuHt. hopeless hope, And vaguely into ^ilsophy grope jyad radeavour to feel resignedl Whil6 he knows, as certain as he can see, How awfullv mad the committee will be. The much-abused, patient committee. With the hall man claiming bis rent or he'U sue, A-nd a uill for dodgers and pbsters due, And nothing to straddle the blind V THRENODY.* I've a letter from thy sire, Mary Ann, Mary Ann, And he's just as mad as Are, Mary Ann, Mary Ann I And he says if I come nigher. That he'll raise me ten times higher. Than the (German Methodist spire, Mary Ann, Mary Ann ! If to win thee I aspire, Mary A: .n I Oh 1 1 dread to see his fa-hace. Mary Ann, Mary Ann ! For 1 know he'll give me cha-hase, / Mary Ann. Marv Ann I He will waltz me round the room ; He will fan me with the broom ; Yes, I safely may assume, Mary Ann, Mary Ann, That he'll fire me oqt the roo-hoom, Mary Ann I Fm so scared I cannot slee-heep, Mary Ann, Mary Ann ; For rm stuck all of a hea-heap, Mary Ajqu, Mary Ann I He is coming after me ! Blood in both his eyes I see, Oh wherever shall I flee-hee ? Mary Ann, Mary Ann ; He will make it hot for me-he, Mary Ann I There is a parrot in Marshalltown, Iowa, that is fifty years old, but it can say 'Polly- wolla kowackwah" just as plainly and jtist as many hundred thousand times a day, as it could when Iowa was a howling wilder- ness. * This ezpressiOn,the exact meaning of which I do not know, is something I once heard down in sooth-western Miasoari. I think it ie the pass- word to some sort of secret society. * It may strike the critical reader that the thcenody Hasnt much to do with the snow storm. I will admit that I was impressed with the same idea, but I couldn't see, as I w'entalongjusthowl cotild v.-c rk the snow storm in, ab I Imt let the thing take its own eonrae, hophmpmatit woald some around t« the snow atDrntafterawhUe. some way or other; inatead at wh|qh UJust seemed to get ^rehomer Mid thrnodlfo. and (^dunoiaMura fHihklhe SmairieNii^ed in tfete third ttaius,;whtsh is |V0li»ttBe«4.hf|baa!DBr«ine eoiwfe of the Unit- ed States, admitted tqpe the heist Judges, to M thettiranodtost^aSiot. ^ 92 HAWK-EY£S. '•!3 a THE VENTILATION FIEND. At Lyon Falls the ventilation fiend ceta on the train. She is a wonuin this time. Woold 1 open the window for her } I would and did. Did it annoy me ? Oh, no ; I rather liked to have the snow blow in and beat down my neck and back. It soothed me and braced me, aa it were, np. She was fading away, she told me, with consumption. I didn't doubt it. She was five inches taller than myself, and weighed about one hundred and eighty-nine. Every time she coughed it knookea the stove down. The woman said to me that she knew it was her fate. Her mother passed away with the same fell sconi'ge : her mother's father and his mother before him died by the same disease ; all of her br .thers and sisters, too, had thus passed away. She was the last of seven, she said, sadly. Was my life, she asked, under the dark shadow^ of any here- ditary taint ? _ ^ Oh, no, I said, as cheerfully as I could un- der the circumstances. Oh, no, there had never been any such depressing monotony in our family in its taking oflf. We never had any particular or favourite style of dying. When the time come we never cfelayed things waiting for the family complaint. We just laid down and died of anything that happen- ed to come along. Anything that was handy at the time suited us. The other day snch a beautiful young lady, eyes like midnight, hair like the raven's wing, brow like alabaster, lips like coral, purse like an overland mail pouch, went into a Jefferson street dry-goods store, and asked to see some corn-coloured silk. The young- est clerk limped painfully behind the counter and handed her down a piece of scarlet. ' I said corn-colour, ' she murmured. The young salesman hesitaied and fidgeted. ' Well, by ^ dad, ' he exclaimed, ' that's the prevailing colour of all my corns. ' And by the time the propiietor could hurry over to ask what was the matter, she was out of the door, and bijf a block awiy. EATING ON THE FLY. Lowville — Ten minutes for refreshments. The sandwich of the railroad ; the custard pie three inches thick ; the ham saodwich with the ham left out ; the biscuit that was cast at the iron foundiy ; the coffee thi^ «ught to be mmed Ifacbetb, be- cause it murders sleep ; ten minates for re- Irashmente. Bolt 'em dQwn. , . „., Castor Land, the next station, only eight miles further on. What an appropriate name to follow the dinner station I Castor Land « pity it wasn't an island, they could call it Castor isle. Castor Land. I suppose the happy beings who live here are known as Castor beins. It is snowing so hard as we pass through this station that you can't tell the land from the Castor. A NEW NAME FOR IT. ' King Humbert, ' old Mr. Throstlewaite read from his paper, 'is said to be very fond of Garibaldi.' ' And it's none to his credit,' guttered Mrs. Throstlewaite, ' that he is. The king of Italy might have better tastes than to be a-sitting on his royal throne guz* zling and swilling spirituous liquors with funny names while tne people demand all his attention. If he's fond of it now, where will his appetite carry him by the time he's forty-five ? His fancy drinks won't be strong enough for h'm then, and he'll be a common raw whiskey' drunkard.' And she went on to tell of a young man she knew at New Bedford, who was passionately fond of Tammanjerry, and drank himself to the grave in 23 years. RAILWAY CRITICISM. Friday morning, as the ' Utica and Black River train goes out of Watertown, two in- telligent citizens sitting behii 1 me enter into conversation. The first intelligent citizen, whose face is fringed with a gray beard, and whose mouth looks as though it had been used to hang him up by when he was young, wanted to know of the second intelligent citizen what the lecture was about. The se- cond intelligent citizen, a tall, brown-beard* ed man, who wrinkles his forehead to the roots of his hair in an apparently agonized effort to keep his eyes open, while he stares feebly out at the world through a pair of e^e-glasses, and who tucks his long hair un> der at tlie ends until he looks like a blood relation of the jack of clubs, says, " it wan't much.acceount ; it was abeout a man — some man he knew — a kind of a boy — boy — sort of a kind of a boy — or a man — man died, he be- lieved ; boy shaved himself — some boy ; it wan't much acoeount ; wan't worth listening to.' I ain greatly pleased, but I have my re> ▼enge. ,1 draw, on my paper block, pictures of the ' jack of clubs, ' and OMkke hia noee en- otnuwsljr long. : There is a look of » achool iMMl^r itK>ut the ' jack ' Htukt reminds me of my Bohodl dayi, and I iMTw; jj^bI. ^r tii« A '\ til w mmm HAWK-EYES. on, only eight n appropriate tation I Castor id, they could ad. I suppose ere are known B pass through the land from I IT. Throstlewaitd be very fond to his credit,' i, ' that he is. 1 better tastes al throne gnz- liquors with le demand all it now, where the time he's on't be strong be a common she went on snew at New bely fond of mself to the SM. la and Black awn, two in- me enter into igent citizen, ay beard, and it had been ,e was young, id intelligent out. The se- brown-beard- jhead to the tly agonized hile he stares h a pair of long hair nn> ike a blood 8, "it wan 't I man — some -boy — sort of died, hebe- >me boy ; it rth listening kave my re> Mk, pictures his nose en- of A Mhool minds me of '•t Mir tii« ] I time, when I wore jackets, that I could not wreak a terrible and all-satisfying vengeance upon a teacher for any insult or indignity, by drawing pictures of him on my old slate. I can make better, that is, worse, pictures now than I could then, and my revenge is corres- pondingly more terrible and satisfying. The ' jack of clubs ' gets off at Carthage. I am so tar quieted and reconciled by my revenge tliat I sadly tear up my ugly pic- tures ami look regretfully at the taU figure and the long hair as they go plodding off through the snow, and I wish I hadent made the nose so long nor the eyes so * poppy. ' Poor old ' left bower,' I take it all back.and 1 will never be so mean again. But then a fellow shouldn't rattle a fel- low by sitting down right behind a fellow and running down a fellow's lecture. Tliia reminds me of a story tliey tell of Josh Billings, one of the liest of the multitude of good tilings Billings says. Some one asked him if he ever stood at the door of the hall and listened to his audience comment on his lecture as they passed out. ' I did — once, the philosopher replied, very solemnly, ' but, ' he added, after a long and impressive pause, ' I will never do it again.' en and Kive her sand:> Wrapped in your teuJer arniu, l)«ur nie tiway Into some fairy, enchanted land. Where the slumbcnng winter can nevorawake. Where the suow clouds never luuiii up and break, Where there ain't! enough winter to froat a cake, Give me a ticket to that fair land. THE FIRST BUTTON MAN. • Samuel Williston, the first nianufauturer of buttons in the United States, is seventy- three years old, and worth six million dol- lars. He has made half the buttons used in the world, and has never yet made a sus- pender button that would hold its grip and not fly off and rattle across the floor every time a man stooped to pick up his hat ia church. He was the man who manufac- tured a tin button that looked enough like a silver five-cent piece to fool a short- sighted deacon with a contribution basket. PA AND THE BABY. After we left Vincennes this . afternoon, a nuvn got on with his wife and two children. One of the little ones, a boy three years old or over, was fretful and weepful, and the father did his bdst, and in the teuderest, pu- tientest manner, to quiet the child and put him to sleep. How the little fellow did cry and kick, and throw things around. He had been crying that way, the man said^ all day long, and he couldn't iMaeine what ailed him. He ' allowed he mi^t have the ear- ache. ' The passengers were full of sympathy, for which, as they strove to express it in vari- ous ways, the father appeared unspeakably grateful for, and the boy indignantly repell- ed. One man gave him an orange ; the boy burled it spitefully into the face of his baby sister, sleeping in the mother's lap, and the terrified young lady added her wail of fright and pain t» the general chorus. A lady gave him her handsome smelling-bottle: he dashed it on the floor and n5wled more fiercely than ever. I handed the poor little innocent- my pocket kftife ; away it went out of the ear window and the urchin wailed more indignantly than ever. All the time the father never got croes or ^w impatient, but ' allowed he could hush hini off to sleep a!Iter a bit.' *The Question majv be asked, ' What has this line to do with it? ' In reply to this piece of un- warrtoted impertinence, I have simply to ask t3i« Mader, * What is thatyonr'bnsiness? ' tThis^iould be 'come and go,' but 'go* wouldn't rhyiue. t * Isnt ' would be more grammatical, bat it wouldn't flt in half so well. HAWK-EYES. wtnrts of May e hur aand ;) ur me away land. I novorawake. ' louiii up and ber to frost a lir land. MAN. nianufacturer i, is seveiity- L million ()ol- tttoiiH used iu made a sna- 1 its grip and le floor every p his hat ia lio manufac- >ked enough I fool a short- lion basket. lY. afternoon, a two ohildren. ee yeare old ful, and enderest, lild and >llow did md. He had said^ all day what ailed have the ear- of sympathy, ess it in vari- unspeakably antjy repell- ge ; the boy le of his baby lap, and the her wail of chorus. A elling- bottle: Ibwled more he poor little way it went irchin wailed Ul the time w impatient, off to sleep the pa- put cry ^hat has this piece of uu- siniply to ask lineas}' to,' but 'go* natical, tmtit i Aiiy, tore enough, the pain and impatience yi«lded to the father's patient 80oti>'ug, th« little head dropped over on the fatlier's shoulder, the broken soLe became less and lea» freauent, and finally died away, AUil the poor little fellow jiutt began to for- get his troubles iu aleep as the train slowed up to a station, when suddenly the father, walking up and down the aisle with him, darteil a t^nce out of the window, stooped down and looked again, and shouted : ' What's the matter with that man ?' ' Hello !' he shouted. 'Here, Emily, take Jiim — watch him— here 1 I can't wait ! Don't let him roll off ! Watch liim !' With a hasty motion he tossed the baby into the seat behind his wife, getting him just alwut half-way on. He gavo a hurried jab at the l>oy with his exteniled fingers, to push him further on the seat, but miss- ed i.iin, and darted off to the door of the «ar, shot out of it and was down on the platform in a flash. The mother quickly put down the smaller child and turned to attend to the boy, two or three pasbengers at the same time sprang forward with tlie same purpose — all too late ; before the fathoi- was well out of the door, the boy toppled off the seat, came to the floor with a thump and a howl of real pain and fright, and when the father, looking sheepish and cheap, came back into the car, the poor little fellow, wide awake to all his old miseries and the one crowning, insulted new one, was screaming away at a rate that fairly made the windows rattle, and he kept it up until we got to Terre Haute, and I don't know how long after that. And all this time nobody else had been able to see anything to excite the ^ther to such a remarkable degree, and he saw our wonder in our countenances. ' The man was a coal miner, ' he explained, as he took the screaming boy, ' and I reckon he's been loadiu' a car of coal and got his face smutty. " Our amazement looked out of our pyes greater than ever. ' An' I thought, ' continued the father, nervously patting the boy's back, and seeing that some further explanation was necessary and expected, 'I thought his eye was blacked, an' I 'lowed there 'd ben a fight. ' MORAL. The profound silence, excepting the boy's wailiug, which didn't count, which followed this explanation, was broken at last by the man from Sullivan, who was sitting back by IJie atove, and raroarked in solemn and im- pressive tones : ' What shadders we are and whftt shadders we ponme.' THE QUIET OF THE TOMR ' Algernon ' sends us a poem in which he declares, ' There is the rest for me in the silent tomb. ' Oh, there is, is there ? Yes, there is ; lots of it ; lota of it. You try it. You'll And ont how much rest there is in the silent tomb with half a dozen medical students dis^^ng in after you and fighting over you. \ ou crawl into the tomb for a little quiet time, if you want to, Algernon, but you just take your revolver with you all the same. WHEN HE SWORE. Shortly after the battle of Mop mouth, Wasliington, his brow contracted with tiiouglit and shadowed with gloom, stooil in the back yard. It was midnight, and the sinking moon cast a strange, weird pallor over tlie darkening landscape. The father of his Country held a shot-gun in his hands, the smoke still wreathing slowly above his head. It was evident that his slumbers had been disturbed. 'I feel,' he said, passing his hand across his throbbmg brow, ' I feel like one who, from a lofty height, looks down upon the mighty torrent of resistless Niagara. ' And then, with one last glance at the cat he wrecked, he turned toward the house and tried to tell his staff what he had said ; but alas, he couldn't remember it, and when they tried to laugh out of courtesy, the sleepy cackle betrayed the hc^lowness of the effort. It was then that Washington swore. THE CHAMPION DOG. A man up on TTorth Hill is just the mad- dest man. He went to Philadelphia and paid J^.S20 for a pure blood bird dog, with a pedigree longer than the chronological table of the kings of England, and the dog hadn't been home two days before the next door neighbour killed him with a Inick in his hen house, where the thoroughbred was sucking eggs. Blood is as uncertain and rare in .a dog as it is in a South American battle. TRAIN MANNERS. ijknesee. — A woman with three bird- cages and a little girl have just got on the train. She arranges the three bird-cages ou a seat, and then she and the little girl stand up in the aisle, and she glares around upon the ungallant men who remain glued to their seats, and looked dreamily out of the window. I bend my face down to the tablet and write furiously, for I feel her T 36 HAWK-EYES. i .m 1 ; eyes fastened upon me. Somehow or other T am always the victim in case of this de- licate nature. Just as I expected. She speaks, fasteninf; her commanding gaze upon me : • Sir, would it be a-iking too much if I 1)egged you to let myself and my little girl have' that seat ? A gentleman can Vi- waya find a seat so much more easier than a lady.' And she smiled. Not the charmmgest kind of a smile. It was too triumphant to be very pleasing. Of course I surrendered. I said : ' Oh, certainly, certainly. I could find another seat without any trouble. ' She thanked me, and I crawled out of my comfortable seat, and pnthered up my overcoat, my manuscript, my shawl-strap package, my valise, and my overshoes, and she and the little girl went into the vacant premises as soon as the writ of eject- ment had been served, and they looked happy and comfortable. Then I stepped across the aisle ; I took up those bird-cages and set them along on top of the coal box, and sat down in the seat thus vacated. I apologetically re- marked to the woman, who was gazing at me with an expression that Doded trouble, that ' it was much warmer for the canaries up by the stove.' She didn't say anything, but she gave me a look that made it much warmer for me, for about five minutes, than the stove can make it for the canaries. Belvidere. — A woman has just gone out of the car and left the door wide open, and the wind is blowing through the coach a hundred miles a minute. Why is it that a woman never shuts ft oar door ? And, v^hy does a man alwr ys leave it open ? And indee-l, why nobody ever shute it except the brakesman, and he only closes it for the sake of the noise he can make with it. Yftstcrday morning, I saw a man go out of a car, and shut the door after him. I have travelled very constantly for nearlj' three years, and this was the first man I ever saw shut the car door after him as he went out. And he only shut it because I was right behind him, trying to get out, with a big valise in each hand. When I set down my valises to open the door, I made a few re- marks on the ^neral subject of people who would get up m the night to do khe wrong thing at the wrong time, but the man was out on the platform, and failed to catoh ^ drift of my remark. I wa« not aorry for thia, beoauie the other paasenge 8 seemed to enjoy it quite an ^ell! by themselves, and the man whose action called forth this i.-?»i)romptu address was • forbidding looking man, as bis as a hay waggon, and looked as though he would have banged me clear through the side of a box car if he had heard what I 8ai<\ I suppose these people who invariably do the wrong things at the wrong time are necessary, but they are awfully unpleas- ant. Cuba. — A woman gets on the train and says a very warm-hearted good-bye to a great cub of a sixteen-year-old boy who sets down her bundles and turns to leave 'the car with a gruflF grunt that may mean good-bye or anything else. There is a little quiver on her lip as she calls after him, ' Be a good boy, write to me often, and do as I tell you. ' He never looks around as she leaves the cars ; he looks just like the kind of a boy who will do just as she tell him, but she must be careful to tell him to do "ist as he wants to. I have one bright spark of consolation as the train moves on and I see that Ijoy performing a clnm«y satire on a clog dance, on the platform. Some of these days he will treat some man as gruffly and rudely as he treats his mother, and the man will climb on to him and lick him ; pound thevery sawdust out of him. Then the world will feel better and hapnier for the licking he gets. It may be long deferred, but will come at huit. I almost wish I had ftounded him myself while he is young and elt able to do it. He may grow up into a very discouragingly rngged man, extremely difficult to lick, and the world may have to wait a very long time for this act of justice. It irequently happens that these bad boys grow up into distressingly " bad " men. We have got as far as Hinsdale, and here we have ceased to progress. The ex- perienced passengers sit as patiently as the train itself. The inexperier.ood ones fly around and tramp in and out and leave the door open, and ply the train men and opera- tor with numerous questions. Some- times the train men answer their auestions and then sometimes they o not answer them. When they do reply to the eager oonundruma, somehow or other the passenger alwavs feels as though he knew a little less than he did before. It is a cruel, deceitful old world, in anow time. A man has gone te the front aeat, and ia warming his feet hy planting the aolea of hia boota againat the aide of the atove. As he weara India rubberboot%theeffeotia marked, but not plewHtnt. Aa uaual, the drinking boy ia on th« IS ! HAWK-BYES. 87 ■1, ]uite sR^ell; vhose action ddress was » as a hay he would the side of a ai('. nvsriably do ig time are lly unpleas' train and ad-bye to a )oy who sets eave 'the car an good-bye ile quiver on • Be a good do as I tell A she leaves the kind of 3II him, but do "ist as »t spark of >n and I see satire on a >me of these gruffly and ;r, and the lick him ; n. Then the )ier for the eferred, but wisli I had 9 young and w up into a extremely nay have to t of justice. 9 bad boys " men. *, and here The ex- tly as the 1 ones fly i leave tlie and opera- J. Some- ver their jnes tliey hen they inundrums, Iways feels ui he did i world, in kt, and la loles of hit I. As ha is marked, He hac laid a regular siege to thewatertank, and I think will empty it before we get to Salamanca. I wish to call the attention of the temperance society to this <^as8 of in- temperates. There should be a pledge drawn up and aoine colour of ribbon — a bit of watemi silk would be appropriate, I sup- pose — tor boys of six and seven years, who are addicted to drinking water at the rale of eighteen tin-oupfnls a minute. Tan or twelve boys of this diss can drink a creek dry when they are feeling comfortably thirsty. A friendly passenger wants to talk. I am not feehng particularly sociable this morning, and consequently I do not propose to talk to anybody. He aaks how I like this kind of weather, and I say, ' Spendid- ly.' He laughs feebly, but encouragingly, and says there has been a little toe much snow. I say, ' Not for health, it was just what we needed. ' Ho asks if I heard of the accident on the Central Railroad, and I say, ' Yes.' Then he asks how it was, and I tell him, * I don't know ; didn't read it. ' He wants to know what I think of Hayes, and I say, 'I think he made a very good con- stable. ' * Constable ?' he says, ' I mean President Hayes. ' I say I thought he meant Dennis Hays, of Peoria. Tlien lie asks if I ' am going far ?' I say, ' No. ' • How far ?' lie asks. 'Fourt'?^! hundred miles,"! say, unblush- inffly. He thinks that is what we call ' far, ' and I make no response. Two babies in the car are rehearsing a little and in rather faulty time, but with tine expr grees. When the trains stop at a station it IS pitiful to see the passengers rush out of. the car and stand on the platform to Kct warm. When you ask a brakesman on the Maine Central to put another stick of wood in the stove, he stares at you in amazement for a moment and then i-eaclies up and opens a ventilator. If you should say it again, I believe he would kick out the end of the car. The stove doors on these cars are kept locked, so the passengers connot manipulate the fires. If this were not the case, I am afraid the six sticks of wood brouglit into the car at Bath would not have lasted more than half way to Bos- ton. As it was, under the economical administration of the bntkesnian they lasted all the way to Boston aiul part of the way back. THE RISING GENERATION. An intellectual youns man, a promising student just back from Brown University, was met at tiie Union depot by an eMurly man, who made a grasp at the young man s hands, and even essayed to clasp hittTin his arms. The young man shook hands with enthusiastic native in a non-committal sort of way, and said, in not unfriendly tones, ' Well, indeed, my dear fellah — I really— your face is rather familiar ; it seems to me I have met you somowhere, and yet I can't exactly plivue you. ' And as the father gazed at his distinguished son in dumb amaze- ment, and thougM how only five years ago, he had distributed tiioroughbred welts anil orthodox blisters all around his youthful back with a piece of lath, for taking the old man's razor to trim of) a shinny club, he sighed, and went back to the office with an unalterable determiuatiun to bind out his other sons to shoemakers and black> smiths. THE AMENITIES OF TRAVEL. How hot and dustv it is t How dirty and grimy everybody Iooks I How cross and un- obliging and distrraceful everybody feeli I i I 38 HAWK-Ef^ES. I ':' ■,! n he cars are crowded, and everybody is wishing everybody else was otit of the way. The woman in front of me has dropped her shawl on the* floor. She is not young or handsome, but she is a woman. Her face has a harsh, forbidding expression, but with- al, I think I can see tender lines about the mouth. It is a face that ' has seen trouble. Poor woman ! Perhaps she has raised eleven children, and now she has them all, with their husbands and wives, to support. No wonder she looks tired and worn and re- pellent. If she was young and pretty, as she was thirty years ago, a dozen men would spring forward to snatch her shaWl from the dusty floor, and bow themselves crooked handmg it to her. Now we look at it, and feel toio dusty even to tell her where it is. A commercial traveller walks down tiie aisle, and steps carefully 'over it. A woman goes down the other \ray and thoughtlessly steps on it. I feel ashamed of myself, and pity the poor, homely woman. With an effort I rise from my seat, I stoop to pick up the neglep*ed shawl. ' Madam, ' I say, and — oh, if my son's mother could see that smile — ' Madam, per- mit me ; your shawl — ' I stopped right there. For as I picked up the neglected shawl, out of its voluminous folds fell thumping and rattling to the floor a paper bag, badly fractured, full of crack- ers, a tin can, some remnan*^T of an ancient lunch, a six-inch bologna bit off at one end, and a bottle of milk, the latter uncorking itself as it fel\ The poor neglecteman, came it old, and me, miffht seat beside 'eetly, as I I charmed, ' ack to the Blossom as ? ' with ft, o my own we a copy on Barnes size about < my smile ly goinc to iuincy, but II anyl)ody You get tor about ; and an* > away mv •rr myself ig» child to cry lieforo 1 e m(»ther e like a. tornado, lightning in ! • * eyes and her liands fairly clenched. I was afraid she thought, from the poor child's agonized expression, that I had been sticking pins into the poor innocent. So I ducked niv head and threw up my arms. ' I never touched her ? ' I shrieked, as the excited woman drew up alc>:g side. To my great relief she never paid a bit of attention to me. She caught up her little one and turned savagely upon the man with a family, opposite me. ' I understand,' she gasped, ' your chil- dren have the whooping cough ?' It took the man a long time to answer her. ^^*^^ last he seemed to comprehend the question, and said in a very deliber- ately : ' Wall, yes ; fact is, they did hev it, right smftrt, but I don't reckon as they 'a much danger •' The mother was gone, up the aisle, through the door, into the fumigated atmos- phere of the smoking car, and the man with a family stopped speaking. In a moment or two came a fond father with a four-year-old boy in his arms. He sought out the vacant seat. He ' didn't want to sit down riimself,' he said apolo- getically, ' but, ' with great urbanity, 'might his little iKiy ■ — ' Oh, surely, ' I said promptly, ' I should l>e only too dad to * Thank yoUv thank you, ' said the grate- ful father ; the boy was deposited under my gracious and fatherly wing, the fatliei' Went into the smoking car to see a man, and by way of opening an easy conversa- tion with the boy, I asked him ; ' Do you not find that travelling, at this uncertain and unchangeable season of the year, with its sudden climatic and atmos- pheric changes, and the over-crowded con- dition of the oars is extremely uncomfort- able ?' The boy began to cry. ' Son, ' I Bilid, sternly, or I'll bust your crust.' The child broke out howl, and jast then I saw his father dash into the door and come galloping down the aisle like a man chasing a chrcmo agent. I instinctively thvew up my guard again, ducked my head, and cried out, without in- dicating any particular man, and with that lofty disregara of grammar- that comes upon us in moments of uitense peril i ' H^ done it !' And again I had thrown out cautionary signals when then was no danger. Tlie ireuacd father metviy wheeled around with cheese that Bnif!fe into an agonizmg hir. boy in his arms and faced the mim with 8 family. ' Sir !' he exclaimed, ' do you know yon have fto right to bring your children on, the cars when they have the whoopingi cough ?' The man with a family looked up at hia questioner, clawed his tawny, unkempt Ibeard in an absent manner, and finally said : ' Wal, you see they did have it right peart, but I allowed there wa'nt much danger in — ' But the father fler so much. It was DO disagreeable riding in such crotvded cars. ' 'Oh, dread-inl, DREAD-ful,' I ".jaculated, and then baby crowed and the emphatic lit- tle woman laughed, a merry, mellow, rip- pling laugh that made l.aby's eyes dance with joy. I laughed a great raspuiu; gutfaw that sounded like a crow with the oronchi- tis, and frishtened the baby into a fit of weeping. I felt awkwardly enough, but just then my attention was attracted to the conductor, who was talking to the man with a family. ' You know, ' said the conductor, "that other people travel with children, and when your children have the whooping cough, you ' The little woman sprauu into the aisle as though arte were shot. ' W h at i' ' she scream- ed. T 40 HAWK-EYES. V If I 5 ;N *'i The mnn with a family looked at thfa con- dnctor, clawed his beard, looked at the ex- cited little woman, and finally said, in tones of real distress at the annoyance his imiocent family was causing : 'Wal, ye see, they did hev it a right «mart, but I didn't reckon thet ' The little wonum was gone, but the con- ductor remained. I wanted to hear that sentence completed if I had to run past Ab- ingdon. ' How long ago did your children have the whooping cough? asked the con- . ductor. < Wal,' the man with the family said, ' the fnst one hed it back in Tennessee, nine years Ag), and the lastun had it downinNodoway CO inty, nigh onto four years ago, an' I don't allow they s no danger of ketching it from juiy on 'mnow.* ' Abing-DON r yelled the brakesman, and I never was able to learn how many more Enics the man with the family created fore he got through to Nodoway county. WOMAN SUFFRAGE. The women in Kansas vote at the school elections. At a recent election at Osage City one woman went up to vote, but be- fore she got through telling the judges what a time her Willie had with .the scarlet fever when he was only two years old, it was time to close the pools and she had forgoten to deposit 'ler ballot. INVADING MISSOURI. I had a very pleasant trip from Burling- ton to St. Louis. I boarded the C, B. A; Q. sleeper for St. Louis, just in time to crawl into the last vacant lierth, thanks to the supreme goodness of a sleeping-oar conduc- tor, who ought to have the rank and pay of A major-general in the United States army. Do you know how much pleasanter and more comfortable it makes a berth in a sleeping car. to hear two or three disappoint- ed tirea men standing in the aisle, growl- and swearing because they can't get any ? It is a mean feeling, I will admit, a mean, hateful, unmanly deling, but it is powerful comforting. I try to break myself of it, but at the same time I am willing to admit that I would rather lie in the berth, aj;-l enjoy the moan, selfish gratification, than stand up in the aisle and indulge in an honest, frank, manly swear at the supreme selfishness curl- ed tip in the berth, making the air vocal with simulated snores. Moral : Such is the Sad Perversity of our Fallen Nature. No other events transpired during the journey until seven o'clock this morning. Then the porter said ' St Louis, " and the grand spectacular sleeping-car feat of stand- in<{ on one leg and pulling an a pair of tr**8*i's was performed by the whole strength of the entire ballot. A great big tnmk is wheeled across the platform toward the baggage room. On the end is painted, in large black letters, the owner's name, 'P. F. W. Shope.' 'Hullo,' shouts a C, B. ft Q. brakesman, staring at the trunk and its name, " ^uUo, wlien did they move the Pittsburg and Fort Wayne shops"to St. Louis ?' Sli. Charles, Missouri — The city looks state- ly as a queen, throneecome of it. without ' Old .Joe. ' It was a long distance from a pri'^ate gentleman of the escort up to a general of division, and in addition to the dinerence of rank, it was a long ways physically from me up to General J. A. Mower, for he was a maguificent specimen of physical manhood, and when I was in the saadle I looked like a patent clothes pin in uniform ; but we all made a denii-god of Mower, and when he held my hand when I went up to say good-by, and fave me a dozen words of parang advice, wouldn't have exchanged places with the general of the army. Proud ?. I would- n't give up the recollection now, to be president. POUTICAL RENUNCIATION. I wouldn't be president any how. I won't be president, under any circum- stances. What's the use of being president, any- how ? And have the stalwarts scalp you on one side and the conservatives kick you on the other, and every man that doesn't get a poet-oifioe call yon an 'accident.' Take away your presidency. And yet it wouldn't be a bad advertise- ment for the next lecture season. I don't really know but if the people of the United States insist upon it, that I may be induced kn( wis toi the in n d HAWK-EYES. 41 during the us morning. i," and the ^eat of stand- a pair of the whole across the oni. On the letters, the e.' 'Hullo,' n, staring at ►, wlien did Port Wayne )r looks state. on her hills ly citv. St. I it before? years a^o, of the SIX- guerrillas,' ting whom Pap Price ' 6. when the I took the ter in the he corps, to d left the a going to It was a ntleman of lion, and in ik, it was a to General magnificent rid when I ) a patent all made a I held my od-by, and ng advice, aces witii . I would- )w, to be ■ how. I ' ciroum- dent, any- Ip you on It you on tn't get a !'ak« away •dvertise- t ng before the police could break in the front door, the snake got away. THE ADVERTISEDEST ROAD IN THE SOUTH. "En routo for Hannibal. And at last I have reached the realization of my heart's desire. I am ridinar on the ' M., K. ft T.' railway. I am passing through the beauti- ful Indian territory. At le^st, I suppose I am paseintr through it. It is down on the bill, in red» and yellow, and purple, and rien, that all passengers on the M., K. ft do pass through the beautiful Indian ter- ritory, and I hold a first-class ticket. I see the Mantiful Indian leaning up against the fence, calmly surveying his territory. And I am free to admit that the territory is a powerful sight more beautiful than the Indian. The Indian is chewing tobacco and swearin|[ at a mule. He is six feet high, the Indian is, and bis tail is full of burs, ^e mule's is. He wear* buttemnts jeans, and a fur cap, the Indian does, and you can heai bim bray clear into the car, the mule, that is. He has a bushy head of hair and shocky whiskers, tanned out by the sun, has the Indian ; and he wears more flat leather bar* ness than he has hair, the mule doe?. He carries a blacksnake whip, the Indian does, and as he swears, he larrups it over hia hunkers, the mule's hunkers. And every time he, the Indian, letches hint, the mule, one, he, the mule, kicks down a whole panel of fence. I trust I have made this clear enough. But the train flies on. The air is balmy with the breath of May. This is February, but the bill says May, and the M., K. ft T, doesn't care for the al- manac. ' The class will rise, remarked the precise lady teacher in the grammar de- partment, ' the class will rise, and remain rising. ' THE ROMANCE OP A SLEEPING CAR. It was in the Burlington. Cedar Rapids and Northern sleeper. Outside, it w as dark as the inside of an ink-bottle. In the sleep- ing car, people slept. Or tried it. Some of them slept, like Christian men and women, peac«(fully and sweetly and quietly. Others slept like demons, malignantly, hideously, fiendishly, as though it was their mission to keep everylx)dy else awake. Of these, the man iu lower number thr ee was the ' boss. ' When it came to a square snore with variations, you want to count 'lower three' in, with a full handand a pocket full of rooks. We never heard anything snore like him. It was the most systematic snoring that was ever done, even on one of those tour- naments of snoring, a sleeping car. He didn't begin as soon as the lamps were turned down and everybody in bed. Oh, no I There was more oold-blooded dia- bolism in his system than that. He waited until everybody had had a little taste of sleep, just to see how good and pleasant it was, and then he broke in on their slumbers like a winged, breathing demon, and they never knew what peace was again that night. tie started out with a terrific • On-r-r-r-t !' That opeued every eye in the car. We all hoped it was an accident, however, and trusting that he wouldn't do it again, w« all HAWK-EYES. i t '1^ I foreave him. Then he blaated our hopee and curdled the sweet serenity of our for- giveness by a long drawn 'Gw-a-h-h-h-hah:' That Bonuded too much like business to be accidental. Then eveiy head in that sleepless sleeper was held off the pillow for a minute, waiting, in breathless suspense, to hear the worst, and the sleeper in ' lower three ' went on, in long-drawn, regular cadences that in- dicated good staying qualities : ' Gwa-a-a-h ! Gwa-a-a-h ! Gahwahwah ! Gahwahwah ! Gahwa-a-a-ah !' Evidently it was going to last all night, and tlie weary heads dropped back on the sleepless pillows, and the swearing began. It mumbled along in low, mutteiing tones, like the distant echoes of a profane thunder- storm. Pretty soon ' lower three ' gave uft a little variation He shot off a spite- ful 'Gnwock!!' Which sounded as though his nose had fot mad at him and was going to strike, 'hen there was a pause, and we began to hope he had either awakened from sleep or strangled to deadi, nobody cared very par- ticular which. But he disappointed every- body with a guttural • Gnrooch !" Then he paused again for breath, and when he had accumulated enough for his purposes, he resumed business with a sten- torous ' Kowpf !' ^-.i^HiVih That nearly shot the roof oT the car. Then he went on playing such fantastic tricks with his nose and breathiiig things would make the immortal gods weep, if they did but hear them. It seemed a matter in- credible, it seemed an utter, preposterous impossibility that any human neing could make the monstrous, hideous noises with its breathing machine that the fellow in ' lower three ' was making with his. He - ran through all the ranees of the nasal gamut, he went up and down a very chromatic 23 scale of snores, he ran through intricate and fearful variations until it seemedthat his nose must be out of joint in a thousand places. All the night and all night through he told his story. ' Gawah, gnrrh ! gn-r-r ! Kowpff ! Ga- wswwah ! gawah -hah ! gwook ! gnarrrt ! gwah-h-h-b ! whoof !' Just as the other passengers had consulted together how they might slay him, morning dawned, and ' lower number three ' awoke. Everybody watched the curtains to see what manner of man it was that had made that beitutifal sleeping-car a pani'emonium. ]^- sently the toilet was completed, the curtains parted, and ' lower number three ' stood le- voaled. Great heavens ! It WM a fair young girl, with golden hp.;r, and timid, pleading eyes, like a hunted fawn's ! . BREAKING THE ICE. The New York CommercieU AdvertUer says more than one hundred handsome American girls broke through the ice last winter, were rescued, and married their rescuei-s. Yes, and we know one American girl, good as gold, and homely enough to scare rats, who has broken through the ice every winter since 1844, and has had to scramble out by herself every time, and is the confirmed- est kind of an old maid yet. PRIVILEGES OF UTERATURE. Do you know, I've gone to railroading ? Yes indeed, rtaven't quit lecturing, but I brake on freight trains and camp out on side-tracks in the intervals. It takes a longer time to spend nine hours on a siding than iii> does to deliver a popular lecture, but it doesn't pay so well. I know every switcli, side-track and Y in the State of Iowa by name, sight and reputation. If I were dropped out of the clouds in the darkest midnight that ever frowned, and should light upon a side-track I could tell right where I was. Try me sometime. One night last December I was going from Grin- nell up north. According to the custom of James T. Fields, and other bucolic lecturers, I was riding in a caboose, jamming along behind a freight train as long as a kite string. I was stretched out on a long seat at my full length, which isn't much longer than a piece of cord wood. I was trying to sleep. I was wooing t^e drowsy god by Sounding my ear on the cushion till the dnst ew. The drowsy god was not on that train, however. He was back in Grinnell, waiting for the sleeping-car. Pretty soon the train stopped, about a mile noHh of Grinnell. It was very i««tfui to the one lone passenger in the caboose. It was soothing to his swollen ear. It was easy en the cushion. I felt that sleep was just about to settle down upon the subsori- ber and knit up the ravelled sleete of care, so loifg as tine absence of motion rendered the ceremotiy of knitting possible. The oonduotor came in. Gloom sate eff>- thttMied upon his brow, and his lowenng frowns made Uie oar look dsrk. Hr three ' rtood le- with goWen hR>r, M, like a hunted E ICE. ial Advertiser says tdsome American last winter, were rescuei-B. Yes, "» giri* good as * scare rats, Mho !e every winter icranible out ljy « the coiifirnied> EEATURE. to railroading ? lecturing, but I camp out on Is- It takes a ur» on a siding «lar lecture, but w every switcli, [fe of Iowa by ^Ti. If I were in the darkest , and should lid tell right •nietime. One )ing from Grin- the custom of colic lecturers, »mming along ng as a kite a a long seat much longer was trying to ow^ god^by >n till the dnst u that train, nuetl, waiting P*d, about a I very reatftd t caboose. It It WAS tat sleep was the suDBcri- ete of care, ion rendered le. -■ '■(.;'■.■; ottt sate M^ Its lowenng Hie opened i a window and let in a wandering, zephyr that froze the flames in the stoi'e into icicles* It's a way freight conductoi^ have. He brought his head in after a while, and from the way he acted I judged h£ was moved. He seemed to be deeply affected over some- thing. I had a dim suspicion that he might have been irritated. He slatnmed down his lamp, and he kicked the stove. Then he jerked down another lantern, and snatched up an oil-can and slammed the stove do >r shut, and said he hoped he nugbt be dad essentially crim- iny jeminy teetotally gol twisted to jude. I arose, with the intention of leaving the cai' if such language was repeated. I was Bj/ared the trial. It was not repeated. The next time he said it, he made it worse, a thousandfold. But I was used to it ' by that time, and endured it with a fortitude and resigna- tion that astonished even myself. I asked him : ' Are we waiting for a train to pass us ? ' ' Yes, ' he roared, ' waiting for a train to pass right throV ^h us. ' I sighed and rolled upon the bench and once more essayed to sleep. Pretty soon, when the conductor had the second lantern trimmed and burning, he cahie and stood be- side my virtuous couch. He said, 'JSere, young fellow ; g^t up out of this. Take this lamp and trot down the track about seventy yards, and stay there till I send for you. Swintj the lamp this way if you see a traii^ coming. ' I asked, ' And what does this feature of the pro- gramme mean ? ' He said that it meant that the engine and half our trains and all the brakesmen had broken loose from us and gone on to the next station, he reckoned, and when they discovered we were left, would come bac'x for us. fle had to flag one end of the tr»,in against the returning half, and I must go down the track and do duty against a pas- senger, and a possible freight or two tliat might otherwise wander into us. He was correct. Moreover, he was firm about it. He seemed to be a man of con .'ictiops, so I yielded to his earnest so- licitation and girded up my loins end sallied forth. I halted at a cattle guard. Gre«tt hea- vens ! but the uight was cold — colder than a Beacon street Boston man, to whom the misguided, ftranger has spoken without an introduction. 1 could have warmed my feet in the bosom of a snow man. The wina flew about 1,000 miles a minute, and everything it touched turned to ice or stone, just as it happened. I got down in the ditch to get out of the wind, but it was so much colder down there that the wind felt warm. Then I got out on the traek, and the wind had got so much colder than the ditch, that I was afraid to step back into the ditch again lest I should be sunstnick. My teeth chattered so that I couldn't have heard a train if it Had run up my titxners leg. It was a terrible situation. Alone, in the wild, wild night, with no human ear to hear my cries if danger assailed me, no human arms to protect me ; suddenly the fearful thought flashed across my mind : What if, in that hour of darkness, in that wild, lonely place, some woman should come along, kiclt over my lantern, stifle me with chloroform and kiss me ? I am a married man. I felt that my duty to my family demanded prompt action, and I left that warning lamp sitting by the cat- tle guartl, while I trotted back to ttie ca- boose and kept up the Are. In about two hours the advance guard of our train came feeliiig its way back after ns and picked us up. The conductor came in, so cold he conldnt shut his eyes, and saw me, just i-ousing up from a dream of peace. * How long have you been in here ? ' he demanded. I said I didn't know ; I had been in so long my watch had run down. 'How long did you stay at where I sent you ? ' he asked. I told him, ' About five minutes. ' The conductor was a man of wonderful presence of mind. He didn't try to say anything just then. He was too cold. He made me go out and bring in my lamp. I brought it in and turned it over to the company and resigned my position on the 8pr>t. But I wasn't allowed to get out of the service of the company so easily. The conductor waited until he was suffi- ciently thawed out to orate fluently and ra- pidly, and then he let me have it. It was in vain that I pleaded, in extenuation of my fault, that I would rather have a freight train run into and over me, than freeee to death , that when I had to die, I wanted to die warm. Excuses availed me nothing. The conductor gave me the most refined, eloquent, polished, scholarly, classical, and rigorons ' cussing ' that was ever administer- ed to a free-bom American lecturer. If the audiences whom I have stricken could have bieen present at that matinee, they would have felt avenged, they would have pitied me. I ootiIdti"t help thinking, while th» orator was laying it on, what a scathing dramatic critic he would make. I survived the bletning and got into Mar- m 44 HAWK-EYES. il H3PI I , -lii I 1 ahalltown just six minutes ahead of the pas- senger train I was afraiil to wait for. That is bow you make time by taking freight tmina. A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. The last time I ran home, over the Chicago, Burlington ami Quincy, we bad a very small, but select and entertaining party on the train. It was a warm day, and everybody w;u3 tired with the long ride and oppressed by the heat. The precise woman, with her hat swathed in an immense blue veil, who always parsed her sentences before she utter- ed them, utterly worn out and thoroughly lonesome, vas glad to respond to the pleasant nod of the big rough man who got ou at Monmouth, and didn't know enough giam- mar to ask for the mustard so that you could tell whether he wanted you to pass it to him or pour it on his hair. The tliin, troubled- looking man with the sandy goatee, who stammered so dreadfully that he always for- got what he wanted to say before he got through wrestling with any word with a ' vV in it, ut up with a tremulous, hesitating smile as he noticed tliia indication of sociabi- lity, for, like most men who find it extreme- ly difficult to talk at all, he wanted to talk all the time. And the fat old gentleman sitting opposite him, who was 80 deaf he couldn't hear the cars rattle, and always awed and lx>thered the stam- merer into silence by saying 'Hey?' in a very imperative tone, every time he got in the middle of a hard word, cocked his iras- cible head on one side as he saw this smile, and after listening intently to dead silence for a minute, suddenly broke out with such an emphatic, impatient, 'Hey?' That everybody in the car started up and shouted, nervously and ungrammatically : ' I didn't say nothing !' With the exception of the woman with the blue veil, who said : ' I said nothing. ' The fat old gentleman was a little an- noyed and startled by such a chorus of re- sponses, and i5xing his gaze still more intent- ly upon the thin man, said, defiantly : ' Wha' say ?' ' I-I-I-I- w-w-wuh-wuh-wasn'-wasn' ^I wasn' s-s-sp-speak * ' Hey ?' ' He wa'u't sayin' nauthin',' shouted the big rough man, noddnit; friendly encourage- ment to the thin man ; ' he hain't opened his mouth !' ' Soap in the south !' queried the fat old man, impatiently. ' Wha' for 7' * Mnnt.li. month :' exnlained the nrecise woman, with impressive nicety. ' He said " opened his mouth." The gentleman seated directly opposite you was ' ' " Offers to chew " what ?' cried the fat old gentleman, in amazement. ' Sir,' said the precise woman, *I made no reference whatever to chewing. You cer- tainly misunderstood me.* The thin man took courage from so many reinforcements, and broke in : ' I-I-I-I d-d d-d-dud-dud-dud-don 't-don't, I don't ch-ch-ch ' ' Hoy ?' shouted the fat gentleman. ' He don't chaw nauthin !' roared the big rough man, in a voice that made the car windows rattle. ' He wa'n't talkin' when you shot off at him !' ' Wlio got off?' exclaimed the fat old gen- tleman, * wha' d' get off for ?' ' You '^o not appear to comprehend clear- ly what he stated, shrieked the precise wo- man, ' no person lias left the train !' ' Then wha' d' he say so for ?' shouted the fat man. ' Oh !' said the thin man, in a surprising burst of fluency, ' He-he-he d-d-did-did— — ? ' Who did 1' queried the fat man, talking louder than any one else. ' Num-num-num-num-n - no -llobody, no- body. He he d-d-d-dud-didn't didn't didn't 8 ' ' Then wha' maldt you say he did ?' howled the deaf man. ' You misunderstand him, ' interrupted the precise wOmali ; ' he was probably atraut to remark that no reference whatever has been intentionally made to the departure of any person from the train, when yOu inter- rupted him in the midst of an unfinished sentence, and hence obtained an erroneous impression of V\>t tenor of his remarks. He meant no oiTi. O ' ' Know a iu..ce !' roared the fat man, ' of course I know a fence !' ' Ho hain't got middlin' good hearin',' yelled the big rough man, as apologetically as a steam whistle could have shrieked it ; ' y'ears kind of stuffed up !' ' Tim^to brush up I' cried the fat man ; • wha' for ?' ' No, ' shrieked the precise woman ; ' he remarked to the other gentleman that your hearing appeared to be'tather defective !' ' His father a detective !' hooted the fat gentleman in amazement. ' N-n-n-n- nun-nun-no !' broke in the thin man ; h-h-h-h-huh-huh-he s-s-sa-sa-said-said {rou w-w-w-wuh-was a little dud -dud — was a ittle deaf I' * Said I was a thief !' howled the fat man, a scarlet tornado of wrath, ' said I was a thief ! Wha' d'ye mean 7 Show him to me ! It If HAWK-EYES. 4ft icety. • He said The ^ntleman t was ' ?' cried the fat It. man, *I made no wing. You cer« 'fi from so many dud-don *t-don'^ sntleman. !* roared the big it made the car I't talkin' when the fat old (ren- ?' nprehend clear- the precise wo- I train !' »r ?' shouted the in a surprisiui; i-d-did-did ^ at man, talking 10 -Tlobody, no- I't didn't didn't did ?• howted interrupted probably atrout whatever haa departure of len you inter- an unfinished an erroneous remarks. He fat man, ' of good hearin',* apologetically shrieked it ; the fat man ; roman ; < he n that your efective !' ooted the fat in the thin -sa-said-said man. Who says I'm a thief ? Who says so ?' ' Now, ' shouted the big rough man, ' no- body don't say ye ain't no thief. I jest sayed ashow we didn't git along very well. Ye see be, ' nodding to the thin man, ' he can't talk very well an' '' 'Wh-wh-wh-why c-c-can't he t-t-t-tut-tut- tut-talk?' IjToke in the thin man, white with rage. 'I-I-I-I'd like t-t-to know wh-wh-w-h- whats tlie reason I c-c-c-can't tut-tut-talk sa arber sighecl, and turn- .ing to the patient, rubbed his sleeping cheek with his fingers, and appeared to be on tlt<' point of asking him who he was, what he was doing there, and what he wanted. But then he looked down at his razor in an ab- sent kind of way as though it was something' lie never saw before ; a gleam of living intelligence lightened his face, and he cauit back uito the land of activity and life ; he turned the razor over once or twice as though he wasn't quite certain whether to shave the man with the edge or the back, and then he touched the cheek of the sleeper so lightly that it never disturbed him. Tempus fugits a thousand miles a minute r fidgeted and looked nervously at the clock. 'Time,' said the barber, with his silent, deliberate hand, 'is for slaves.' He went over that man a face as thoug^ he was shaving the queen of England. Bristle by bristle he mowed the stubble field of that man's illimitable cheek. It was twonty-five minutes after five, and the shaver was just making his first Bwath on the man's chin. I said, in tones suffused with waiting anguish : ' When does that train go north on the K. 0. & C. B. ?' The barber nursed his way around a pim- ple on the man's chin as carefully as though it was the end of the jugular vein sticking out, and stepped back to admire his work. Presently he looked up at the clock and then he looked at me and then he said : 'Which train?' I told him, ' On the K. C, St. J. & C. B. ; passenger ; going nwth. ' He turned the man's face over to the other side, washed off the lather with a s^^onge, laid on some more, washed it off, dried uio man's face, w.oshed it, lathered it, strapped the rasor a little, wade an offer at the man's cheek, drew back, looked at the razor, glanced at the olock, put down the razor and took a ehew of tobacco, picked up the razor, laid one hand on the man's head and was on the point of beginning, when he poised the razor I HAWK-EYES. 47 Atherecl his faco red it. He lavei I 1 dried it with niiied the cheeks He liu^ereil thv 1 ran his finders titors' hair. Tlieii gazed out of the -eamy look, aud I illing in the uha ;o, and I had not , although it was md the sleeping; ohed bv the razoi sighecl, and turn lis sleeping cheek tred to be on tli* he was, what h< he wanted, liut is razor in an ali it was soniethiui.' gleam of livinu ace, and he cauit vity and life ; )u' r twice as though ither to shave the laok, and then he sleeper so lightly id miles a minute | irvously at tlie barber, with his ad, ' is for er that loans iving the queen istle he mowed nan's illimitable minutes after making his first said, in tones north on the K. around a piin- fully as though vein sticking mire his work. clock and then said : St. J. & C. B. ; ver to the other irith a s^/onue, I off, dried tiie ed it, tftrapped Tier at the man's lerazor, glanceil |aaK>r and took a the raeor, laid id was on the Bd the razor in thi) air, nodded to some one acrou the streeu, looked at me, aud said : ' (foe that goes to the Blnrts ?' I said, 'Mo, the Hopkins branch,' The barber began shaving the man. Then he stopped, looked at the clock, turned his head and looked out of the window, then he glanced at me in a fixed manner, and said : * I don't know.' He resumed his stndy of that man's face and went over it like an anatomist. He shaved it in three different directions. He went back at it three times after he was through and shaved some neglected spots. He laved and stroked and dried and per- fumed and powdered that man's face until the clock said it was thirty-nine minutes af- ter five, and I felt the premonitory symp- toms of convulsions and nervous insanity creeping over my quiveriug limbs. Too late I stayed— oh monstrous crime, I cursed the barber's whistles ; How iioirtele.>« Inll-j iiie foot of time That only treads on bristles. He passed over the man's hair until I felt that time 'lad given place to eternity. He ruV)bed i+ and dnaterl it ; lie parted it four times bei ^re he j/<>t it to suit him. He comb- ed it and brushed it down so slick, that an early fly, trying to climb to the crown of the man's head, slid oft and broke his neck. At four minutes of train time, the man who was now wide awake, made an eftort to rise and get out of the chair, and my heart swell- ed with hope. The barber pushed him back. Shadow of eternity ! he began to wax the patient's mustache. It lacked two and one-half minutes to train time when the chair was empty. I shrieked at the patient barber in profane ac- cents, and told him I had to be at the depot •t the time. ' Well, what do you want done ?' this terrible man asked me. •Shave !' I howled with some variations not in the next text. ' Oh, well, ' he said, quietly, ' climb into the chair. ' ' You won't make me miss that train ?' I yelled, in a fever of nervous anxiety. He shook head. ' Yon can walk down there in a minute, ' he said. It was wonderful, the degree of confidence I felt in that man's latent abilities, after I had just seen him take foHy-foor long solid, dragging minutes to bbave ft mui with less beord tlian a nun. * Go Ahead, ' I Mid, with forced calmness. He tucked a toiral armmd my n«ok In one tine and two motiotM. ' Swosh !' there was an avalanche of lather from my right ear to the middle of my chiu, extending laterally from the neck into the eye^ nostrils, and one comer of my month. ' Slosh :' a corresponding freshet iiiundate-fifth of my life, this winter, has been spent dangling between ! heaven and earth, clinging to the edge of an ' upper berth, feeling for tlie floor with my I feet. There is some mistake about this. Nature never intented me to sleep in an up- per berth, else she had eiven me legs with tubular joints, that would slide in and oat, like a spy-glaaa. I am glad I am not fat, sinoe this relent- less fa^ has assigned me forever to the doom of the upper berths. If there . is anything that would make a snake laugh, it would be the spectacle of a ht man, a little alojng in years, with a head rather of the bald baldy, and wide suspenders flapping snd dangling down his legs, puffing, squirming and kick* ing over the ed^ of an upper berth, tiving to set in, srabbing at the yielding, unhefpfol pillows, balancing himself on liis stomach while he tears his bed to pieces with frantie snatches, and at the same time kicks the im* ^ HAWK-EYES. 49 ck them in to li young man, !i and wistful ivinity student, e of a Baptist Why,* he says, 1 cattle into a 3a sir], with a 'er did ; how do lent remarked, they drive them low, with thin ; they save him a with a ham- I't look hardly i against its ad- on record, but bter bankruptcy il-lookingyoung in the car who th himself. >n to Hopkins I • berth. I never h the conductor [1 ' have to give is winter I have )r got a lower >n the St. Louis 1, which has no rent to get into I was so ac« \y lofty berth boxes, that I low one, and he curtain rod, tumbled down of my life, this {ling between the edge of an loor with my :e about this. sep in an up- |me legs with in and out, this relent- br to the doom .is anything . it would be llittle along in ^e bald baldy, &nd daneling and luck' Brth, trving Lig, unhelpful ilia stomach I with frantie kick* the im- mortal breath out of the man in the oppoute iK'rth, ami at last, with a hollow moan, coiiieH sliding down, landing a8trilorado for my health, ' id young Keepitup to old Bobyshell, the >ther day. ' Ah !' replied the old man, 'and Iwhen did you leave it there V TWO DAKING MEN. On the way from Terre Haute — which is idiffepently pronounced Ter Hut, Terry [Hawt, Terry Hot, and Terra Hote—down to IPrinceton w6 passed through a station called [SuUiran, where two men got on the train in state, or r»tl|pr in two states, of the jwildes^ excitement. Only about fifteen imintttes before the train reacheti the town, a [terrible eyplosiou had occurred in a coal [mine ; a column of smoke and slate and [broken timbers and flame had shot up into Ithe air from the mouth of the shaft, like a [volcano ; the debras had choked up the shaft, and thirty men were imprisoned in the mine. - And nothing, these two paasen- 4 gern declared, was l>eing done. People were standing around hun-ur-stricken, they said ; nolKxly Would go down ; nobcMly would do anything. 'Oh,' they shouted, while the people in tlie car looked at them with undis- guised admiration, ' OIi, if they only had had time, tliey would have Ueaited a rescue party and brought thiMc sutlering miners to light and safety. ' ' 1 wouhl iiave gone down into that shaft,' saiil the first iiohlc pa.sHouger, ' if I knew I would never couie out alive.' ' I would not liohl my hfe worth that,' snapping his fingers, ' when the thought of those poor fellows suffering untoKl tuid un- known horrors and agony down in tlie burn- ing mine.' ' If the train had only Ijeen an hour later,' cried the first noble passenger, ' it would have found me down in that mine when it came along. ' ' If I had thought the conductor would have waited for me, ' exclaimed the second noble passenger, ' I would have gone down anyiiow. ' And the passengers could not repress a murmur of admiration. An old man, who wa chewing cardamon seeds for his catarrh, saiil : - There is another train comes down in about three hours. ' But nobody paid any attention to him ex- cept to frown at him, and then they tamed again to look at the two noble, daring pas- sengers, and shudder at the thought ot their recklessness. ' Oh,' the two noble passengers cried in unison, ' we couldn't ffet anybody to . go down that shaft. We b&ged and command- ed, and did all that mortal men could do, but we couldn't get anybody to go down.' I rather expeoted this was true. I have nO' doubt of it. ' I wonder, ' said the first noble passenger, * if the conductor wouldn't run the train back and wait for us V ' I wonder ?' shoated the second noble pas- senger, enthusiasticalljr, ' let's ask him !' And the burst of admiration from titMiher passengers was so strong that I thought they were going to raise a purse for the res- cuers on thr -«H>t. But the train passed on^ while the two rescuers kept declaring they had a good mind to get off and walk back, because no1x>dy up at Sullivan would do any- ipat ally. thing. And, finally, they did get off at a little station about thirteen miles down the road ; and what do you suppose was the im' portant business that had dragged them away from the rescue of twenty or thirty perish' iug men ? There was a man down there they heard Kfn 00 HAWKKVKS. «.. bad & cow to aell, and when they got of!' the train they learned that he had sold her two ilaya before. A PRACTICAL MAN. Soiiiething about the engineer, his face or his manner, or possibly hia clothes, attracted my attention. Anyhow, I wanted to talk to him and hear him talk about his engine. There is always a wonderful fascination about railway engineei-s and locomotives and rail- road men generally, for all people, and I am, and have always been, especially susceptible to this fascination. Were you ever at Cres- tou, Iowa ? And did you ever stop at the old Creston House ? I have sat, quiet and motionless, in its sitting-room, by the hour, listening to the clatter of the train men about me. Creston is the Homellsville of Iowa. ' By thunder !' one mail would h^ shouting, •I looked out of the way-car window and saw old Flanigan comin' down the main line lickety split, thirty miles an hour if he was makin' a mil 3, and I =' ' switch open and two coaches on the siding, ' says an engi- neer, * and I squealed for brakes an' throwed her clear over, and you should see the fire fly out of them rails, and before — ' ' Well, sir, ' aomtV'dy else from some other run chimes in, * I twisteti that blamed old brake till I thoughh I'd twist it off ; hold nothing, you coulnii'*. hold ' ' Aw, she is though ; she's the prettiest piece of iron on this di- vision ; she's quick as a ' ' Who went out on No. 37 last night ?' And uij on through a ch'^ming confusion of throttle and lever and lamj^and draw- bar, tire box, oylinder-cooks, way'cars, frogs, switches, trucks, tanks, olaw-bars, oattle-g^iard, plat- form-cars, chairs, crosb-frogs, sigaaia, nags, and a thousand things that I didn't know anything about. I rather liked it. But be- Ibre I could get to this engineer I was speak- ing of, who had a pasoengei engine on the Indianapolis, Bloomington and Western, an- Olhor had already engaged him in convers-t- tion. I am always willing to let anybody else^lpake a fool of himself and ask the questions, just so I get the benefit of the answers, so I let him talk while I hung around and listened. This man wasn't like any engineer I had ever made friends with before. He was an awfully practical fel- low, the passenger said. ' Your's is a very exciting life. ' ' Ik it?' said tM engineer, Mrith ar. air of iBwlrf9st. ' Well, ' said the passenger, quieted a little Wt, * I mewtl isn't it ?' ' Oh,' was the reply, with a satisfied ac- oent. Thtsa, after a pause, < Well, I don't know ; do yon see anything very exciting about this *' He was laxily stretched out on his cushion, dividing up his paper of fine cut, pntting all but one 'chew' of it into his vest pocket,and putting the one ' chew' into his tobacco- pouch, so that he could show the fireman th»t was all he liad, when that useful official should ask for it. The passenger fidgeted a little, but didn't seem ;:o want to give it up. I didn't know how to ferl glad enough that I hadn't gone into the catechism business with the quiet man. ' Well, ' said the passenger, after a little while, ' are we pretty near ready to pull out?' ' Pull out what ?' asked the engineer. " Why, the train.' •Train isn't in anything. Train's all rigbl;. ' Well,' 8ai^ No one man coald throw this engine clear over. It weighs thirty -five tens.' ' I suppose, ' the passenger obstinately per- sisted, ' that when you start out witli a heavy train you have to hold her awfully olose to the rails ?' ' I have nothing to do with that, ' he said ' the laws of jpivitation and friction control all that, i presume niy weight on the engine adds somewhat to its pressure on abe rail, although of course that amounts to very little in comparison with the weight of the engine. ' The passeneer wiped the beaded perspira- tion from his Drew. • Well,' he said, • how do you like life on the foot-board, anyhow ?' 'I don't live on the foot-boar J, ' the en- gineer said, ' I live at home. ' ' Well, how do you like running on the Toad. then?' * I don't run ; I ride. ' The conductor c£:::e along just here and handed the man in the cab a bit of yellow paper, and then shouted ' AU aboard. The passenger, with a grateful expression of countenance, said, 'Thank heaven !' as he went back and climbed on the rear platform oi the last car, as far away from the engine a« he could get, and I heard the engineer, as I turned away, growlinc about people wlio ' always wanted to tMK shop. ' It was a terribly narrow escajie for me, biitl made it, and I rather enjoyed it. Providence always does take care of the truly good. A MYSTERIOUS ACCIDENT. One bright morning, early in October, I -was on Dave Blackburn's train on the Keo- kuk division of the Chicago, Burlington & Qui^^ railroad. We were running ho fast tnatWie noise of the wheels was mttUng along about two hundred yards behind the train, doing its level best to keep in sight, but losing ground every jump. Hiiddenly the train stopped. Away out between stations, no cattle on the track, no water tank ia sight* notliiig apt>arently to step for. She polled up so close to an orchard that the farmer oame out and sat on Utie fenoe with a gnn in his baud, and a couple of bohl, bad dogs, looking deceitfully plea- "*»(> tagging along at bis heels. • He evid> entiv didn't care about setting up the apples. The passengers were alarmed, not at the determined neutrahty of the farmer, but at the sudden stoppage of the train. They knew something serious had happened. Presently the fireman came walking down along the side of the track, looking carefully as though he had dropped his diamond out of the cab window. 'What is it ?' asked tlie first passenger. ' What is the matter ?' asked the /tecond passenger. 'What has happened?' asked the third passenger. ' Wliat broke ?' asked the fourth passenger. 'Why did we stop?' asked'the fifth pas- senger. 'What's up?' asked the sixth passenger. ' What's broke loose ?' asked the seventh passenger. ' What done it ?' asked the eighth passen- ger. 'Broke a spring-hanger,' gravely replied the fijreman, and passed on, and all the ques- tioning passengers drew their heads back and closed their windows, and with great gravity was repeated the fireman's statement to the other passengera who had not been able to get to a window in time to ask the fireman anything : 'Bioke a Hprins-hammer.' ' Broke a sling-nainer. ' ' Broke a screen-hanger.' ' Broke a string-hammer.' ' Broke a string-ander. ' ' Broke a scene-hanner. ' ' Broke a steam-hammer.' ' Broke a s\ ing-hanger. ' ' Broke a bean-spanker.' 'Broke a hair-banger.' And if Benjamin Franklin and George Washington and Christoph«r Columbus had been in that coach, they couldn't have looked wittAr nor been more thoroughly ignorant of the nature of the accident than the awe- str-uck passengers who imparted and received this information and triea to look as though they weren't wondering what it was. There should be a law comp^Uinff railroad people to speak Unitml States when imparting in> formation relative to the nature oi accidents, to the inquiring pai^sengers. There wasn't a passenger in that conch that ever expi'uted .to see good Dave BUvukburn or the engineer alive agHin. We all supposed that when a spring-liangor broke, it just tore the en- gme all to pieces, stood it on end «>d ram- med it into the ground, and then ran on aheatl. tore up the track, set fire to a bridge and bldW up a culvert. The average pas< •enger baa aa idea that a apfing-itanger 52 HAWKKyKS. owns about the whole engine, that it is one of those things that can even •wear at a brakesman and walk up to a baggageman and call him a ' wooden- headed, flat backed, trunk-liitiu' hurricane of wrath, ' and consequently when a passen- ger is told that the spring-hanger ia broke, be has an impression that it will take every kust dollar there is on the train to set the old thing up again. SCIENCE V8. IMPULSE. It is very easy to write long articles, pro- found with medical learning and wisdom ad- vising people, as they value health and life, to avoid 'hurrying and excitement, ' during the heated term ; but when a man is only ten feet away from a petulant gentleman cow, and sixty-live feet away from the near- est point in the pasture fence which they are both heatlmg for with all the intensity of purpose that can actuate living creatures, who is going to stop and feel his pulse to see whether he is in more of a hurry than^is war- ranted by the laws of hygiene ? MISSED HIS COUNT. The neighbour's cat had clawed the baby, and the man was going out to the wood-pile, with his ax over his shoulder and the cat auder his arm. ' Carom me back to the house, ' said the cat, who appeared to be chalk full of emotion, ' that ought not to count, it was only & scratch. ' The man took his cue, and looked thoughtful. • True, ' he said, ' and this is only an accident. ' And he laid the feline across the block and held it down with his foot, and swinging the axe above his head, brought it down with dread- ful force. There was a moment of drtiadful silence, and tiien, while the cat, from hor high seat on the neighbour's shod, sang, 'Oh, wauly, wauly, up the bank,' thi man ■oraped around in the chips to hud his three toes, and earned thdm m to his wife, and asked her if she supposed the doctor could MW them on when he came. THE STORY 0^ INNACH GARDEN. ' Arm A virum que oano ;' The man with two arms and a hoe, • I sing. The spring Uaw him with spade and hoe and rake, With back and arms that bum and ache. Dig and swear \t the hard earth, where Over the adamantine sod All winter \otuf Mie teniily trod. All day long liKa a slave ne wrought : The spade was dull and the day was not ; Whtn a <^er or softer place n« sought, Sunstrokes and brick-bats filled the apol. From rosy dawn. Till the day was gone. With teors and groans he laboured on. By Luna's light the lettuce bed With seeds of Uictuca iativa were fed Where the onion wept at its breathful tast* The bulbs of the allium cepa he placed ; And you never have seen a More charming verbena Than those ho put in the oblong mound With viola tricolor Ijorderetl roimd ; And on each side of the walk from the gate ft Row of the retteda odorata ; Bacic in the kitchen-garden bed, Baphanun Satioun, white and red ; Where the tall poles burden the haunted air, it The place where he plants phascolua vulgaptsf All of the seeds that the grocer had, Lots of things gooii, and some things bad ; Things that ne didn't know how to spell ; Roots thaV bite and bulbs that smell ; Unknown vines of suspicious breeds ; Spiouts that eoine up and turn to weeds ; Things it would poison the children to poll— Every inch of hij garden filled it full. Daybreak came, and its earii«»'!t ray Smiled on the garden just as it lay. Eight o'clock, and the man went down To his olHcb desk in the busy town. Nine, and his family flitted away With a rich relation to spend tlie day. Then. Just as the whistles were tolling ten, A hen, Pride of the flock that lived next door (Mumbering a hundred and seventy-five), Peeped through a crack of the neighbour** fence. And said to her comrades : " Lettuce, hens t" Hens 1 They came by ones, by scores, by tens ; Gallus old birdc. f> olnrion crew. Came with the crowd, as they always do t Bantams, hardly as big as a mutch, IJut worse than a snow plow on the scra'xih ; Dorking fowls that make thingsr whirr When they dig up the graund with thdr extra spur ; Malays and Hamburgs, spangled and plain. White checked chigkens that hail from Spain ; Fightins gamc-chfRfens, Polands black, Uuinea nens, with eternal "squack ;" Hens with chicks that weetled and cried, liens bereaved, whose wectlcs lias died ; Giddy young hens that never had set. Grave old hens that were at it eye ; Portly old roosters solenm and stoat ; Oldtfmo brnisers with one eye otit ; Hens with broods of awkward duotis. That gave no heed to their anxious cluoks, And never regarding their worried looks, Plunged into g".tter8 and ponds and brooks { Mortified roosters, with tail feathers lost ; Fowls whose claws were nipped by th^rost ; Business-like birds, with no ear for f utn Pullets whose troubles were Just begun ; Tough old fowls, for the boarders' collation : Yellow-legged hens of the Western persuasion^ Bright gems in the oirouit rider's vacation ; Baptist-like ducks, wifh their awkward totter, Hunting around for some waist deep-water ; Blue-looking turkeys, s«;ratching a living, 'Tore-ordained to die next Thanksgiving, 1 < 1 < I 1 X t t ■a t ^ And here in the mob was a solemn passel Of geese, with tremendous feet for a wrastlei Not much on the scratch, but 'twas easily seen ^her were worse on Rraae than •mowing-iBM' nine. til c I I B t t HAWK-EYES. St pot ItMt* i; d igateA ted air. It vrdgapiaf >ad; is ; I to poll— U. >> or ierhbour't hens I" lo; ir extra lain, Spain; ^= !1CS, oics ; it; ion : luasion,^ |on: totter. il uUe, lytean Where they all came from nobody knew. But over the fence in vlouds they flew ; And into the garden for life or death. They acratctied till they panted, out of breath ; Ho pause, no stop, no stay for rest. Till the sun went down in the crimson West ; Till the man came home from his wotk and foimd The yawning clefts in the riven ground. And he gazed for a space, with a fearful, start, Which the deep sobs broke from his grateful heart ; And he claiiped ih his arms his babes and spouse, ' Thank Heaven, the earthquake spared my . house 1' ^ THE MERRY, MERRY SPRINGTIME. The mouth of April is the seventh month -of the year. It was originally the thirteenth, but in 1303, Augustus Ciesar changed the calendar, because he had a noM to meet in the middle of the mouth, and did not have a ■cent to pay it with,, and he dropped that month out entirely, and April thus became the third mouth, as it now is. It was named after Aprilliii, the god of sprine, who used to get up on the hvst day of March, and taking a paint-pot and a marking brush, go around the country painting Lattin mottoes «nd moral precepts and bursts of poetry on the rocks and trees, among others, the fol- lowing gems which have come down to our own day : ' Takibus livurimus currectore for the Itloodibus.' ' Dulce et duuoreni est to take ' rye and rock' in the ' Honey, tar, lumque cang, for colda and couuhs. ' ' Nsvrvee ». Imtit all I HAWK-EYES. » wanted, and thump the man vho found fault nith me for it. A BLIGHTED CENSUS TAKER. ' What does your husband do ?' asked the census man. ' He ain't doin' nothing at this time of the year, ' replied the young wife. ' Is he a pauper ?' asked the census man. She blushed scarlet to the ear. ' Law, no !' she exclaimed, somewhat indignantly. ' We ain't been married more'n two weeks. * Then the census man threw down his book and rushed out into the depths of the gloomy forest, and caught hold of a white oak tree ' three feet through to hold himself up by. We did, but you everybody about it. need not go and telt POKJING FUN AT THE NATIVE. The Sioux City and Pacific train stopped at Onawa the other day and the smart man on the train leaned out of the window and shouted to a native, ' What is the name of this town?' ' Onawa, ' replied the native. ' On a what ?' queried the smart man. Patiently the native repeated the name of the helmet. ' Do you want to sell it ?' asked the smart man. The patient native didn't know ; 'lowed mebbe they'd sell if anybody wanted to buy it bad enough.' * VW give you twenty-eight cents for it, ' bid the smart man. The native tui-ned his head thoughtfully on one sir.e and considered the f>ropo8ition in silence. Finally he raised lis head with the air of a man who had tk )ut made up his mind to trade : ' An' t irow yourself in ?'^e asked. The window came down with a slam, and as the train pnlled out, there was laughter in the car, but the smart man couldn't tell whether it was meant for himself or the native, al- though he was inclined to think it was. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. Aberdeen, May 3. — Who was the author of the 'Waverley Novels ?' CONOLOCKKTTY AnOOS McPhIRSON MtClAN. A man named Tom Donovan ; lives down here in Bogus Hollow and drives a dray. Wtiat do you waint to know for ? Boston, Mass. — Can yon tell me whether Connecticut has now two capitals, as former- ly, or only one ? Statesman. * It Hm five. Have yon no spelling-book, tb»t you kltd to send clear out here to learn wbvfe every schoolboy in Iowa could tell you ? Maorion, loiwa. — Who wrote the poem call- ed 'Th»n»tcpeis,'beffinning, 'To him. who iu the love of nature ? Asa. Peoria, 111. — Is it true that a cat has nin« lives? Thomas. It is, it is. Some of them liave eleven. I» the year 1853, during the reign of King IX.,- there was a cat at Medford-upon-Rum that had fouileen lives, and aft«r bWng beheaded the fifteenth time, got up, picked up her head in her mouth and ran away, and is supposed to be alive to this day. And w« think this same cat is the one owned and utaintaioed by a neighbour of ours. Appleton, Wis. — Was William Tell, as is claime ference, and even then it is hardly the thinif for him to dj. Unless he likes it very much indeed. Newark, N.J. —How many body servants did George Washington have ? He had live last summer, but this seasoa \ 66 HAWK-EYES. he has only three, the two who travelled with Mr. idarnum's show last year being now engaged for the gorilla and the wild boy of Borneo, until tlaly 1, when the gorilla will be withdrawn and Joice Heth substituted, on account of the heat. , Ann Arbor, Mioh. — Ht n many bones are there in the human body, at maturity ? Student. It depends on the size of the man. Now, in a snad weighing one pound, there are 2,625 well defined bones, A man weighing one hundred and forty pounds, therefore, would have in his body one hundred bud forty times as many as a one pound shad, or 036,852,623 '^ones. OiveM the weight of the man, it will always be perfectly easy for you, by this method, to ascertain the number of bones in his body. Chica^. — ^Who is the wealthiest man in the United States, outside of New xom: State and the great mining States ? Banker. We are. But we are not len-iuig a dollar to anybody, for anything. You iuderstaiid ? Boston. — Who was the autiior of the ' Junius letters, do you thi^k ? Politician. Junius, you donkey ; Junius. Warrensburg, Mo. — \y'hen is the time to travel ? When you hear her father's foot on the thinl step, young man, is about as goolnial» ia & vtty exuST lent journal, but it has some damb queer notions about cat killing. "^ HAWK-EYES. 87 A REMARKABLE CURE. ' For many, inaiiy years, ' uaid the man wii!< the bad eye, ' I was troubled, a inoyed, positively afflicted ^rith a raging, burning thirst for strong urink, and alcoholic beve- rages. I sought for relief in every way. I sought the advice of physicians and the counsels of friends. I tried various cures recommended by the newspapers, but none of them stieme<1 a false > accoaatitNi. It is often remarked that ' the boy is father to the man. ' This may be true, but we know that after the snow-ball has knock- ed off the mar'~ hat, it is father to the boy than it is to toe next corner, by a long sight, and the man will hnd it out i he is foolish enough to ohaee the boy. HEAVEN AND EARTH. ' Oh, heaven and earth are fat* apart, ' says the poet. Thoy are, tfa^ are ; and it is just :iH well that is so. If they were very close together, the oabinQt-organ dei^rs would be bu::ziug the poor, harassed, distract- ed angels eighteen hours a Aay, and the ad- vertiBing agents woald talk them blind the rest of &e time. THE REASON WHY. S. C. Stedmfoi sings, in Scribner, ' Why should I fear to sip the sweets of each red lip ? ' Why ? Because, Mr. Stedman, you have a conviction that the gloomy-looking old gentlema" in the background, with blood in his eye and a cane like the angel of death in his hand, will make a poultice of yon if you do any such sampling while he is in reach. THE PHONOGRAPH, IN GERMAN. The name of the ^houoeraph, in German^ is unsergehausnokeiti^entornstehauphfteich- tauosgespreecher. W hen you wind that up on the cylinder, and leave it till it gets col(^ and then grind it but, it usually l/^ars the machine to pieces and strikes the house with lightnin'g. A GRECIAN CIRCULAR 'Why.' asked Ulysses, as he accompanifS the swift-footed Achilles on his d^uraal camily marketing tour. ' Why do you call y>ur butcher Ixion ?' The son of Peleus looked attentively at the flesher slicing off cutlets, to see that he didn't get in three times as much bone as cidf^ and then replied : ' Because he's the man at the veal.' The waster of cities sighed heavily, and shaking his head gloomily, said he never un- derstood politick very well, and so, without coming to a vote, the house adjourned. The man whode pantaloons bag most at the knees isn't necessarily the man who prays the most. Sleeping in a day coach with yonr knees propped up against the seat in front of you, will wreck the knees of a straight pair of pants quicker and more sue* cessfuUy than two years of prayer-meetings. . 'JJmt eyes,' remarked the proof reader, 'are her strongest attraction. They draw your attention and adiniratioil in spite of ioursell. ' ' Ah, yea, ' replied the casluer, * » ind of asif^t draft, as you might say.' «0 HAWK-EYES. Ill H i n A DAY AT TROY. Troy, Ohio, March 4. ' Arma Tirumque cano,' I sing the flrat TroJan, you know ; 'Qui piimua ab oria,' Who mounted his Horace, * And settled down in ()hi0« With more terror tiian joy With hia pa and hts ))uy, He fled, feeling dreadful Uneasy, t For juat ubout then A hortie load of men Made tJie climate unwholesomely Greecey. And his fond, loving wife. The joy of his life, He ran off and left her behind. For i^Ineas, gay boy, Was sure Wiat in Troy, Ohio, new wives he could find. NOCTURNE. Had he struck this new Troy just when I did, • u to. [ill who Itell each ]k, when rith th« I dentist's Ifioation, ' 'Th« le. It's HAWK-EYE>«. 6) TOO PARTICULAR. ' Peucestas, ' said Leonatus, one day, when the all-conquering army of Alexander was on its march to Malli, * Peuceatastwhy is the crupper of Bucephalus like a ship's anchor '!' Peucestas was buried in deep thought for a moment ; ' Because it has no pocket to put it in ?' he ventured timidly. 'Naw !' roared the son of Pella. ' Man behind the counter?' pursued Peu- oesta". 'Nol' • To cover his head ?* • Shades of my feathers, no 1' ' Because 'it's infirm ?' Leonatus only made a despairing gesture. • Because it's a slope up ?' Leonatna made a motion to strike him, and Peucestas said he wouldn't guess any more, and he couldn't see why a horse's crupper was like a ship's anchor. 'Well, it is,' replied Leoniitus, 'because it's at the end of the hawser. ' ' Which end ?' presently Peucestas in- quired, with a show of interest. And then Leonatus looked a long way off, and said that the peculiar appearance of the clouds and the humidity of the atmosj Ehere indicated considerable areas of distur- ances, with a right smart of mean tem- perature at local points. THE SKIRMISHING FUND. • Varinns, ' said Lentulus, one day, just before the praetor marched against Sparta- ons, • Varinus, did it never occur to y6u that these little signs in the city parks, all over the civilized world, "keep oflf the grass," are instigated by British influence?' The praetor couldn't see why British in- fluence should trouble itself to preserve the grass in a United States park, and he said so. *- 'Well,' said the consul, 'it is so. It is only another exhibition of English hatred against the Fenians, to which other powers are thus induced to lend their influpnce. You can see no com ec ion between these signs and the Fenians ?' v ' None,' replied Varinus, 'unless the signs aT« like the Fenians, because nobody pays any attention to them.*'^ ' Not exactly that, ' responded the collsnl, with some asperity, ' altnough that ian't so bad.' Varinus respondit non, sed intimated, by ■baking his caput, ut he would give it up. •Wdl.'said the consul, with a pitying look at his comrade, ' it n because these things are pnt up to keep people from " wearing off the green." ' It was a long time before Varinus mad« any reply, when he finally said he hoped, ii the consul ever said anything like tliat again, Sparticus might give him the awful- last Thracian a Roman ever got. And then he called out the troops and w ent over tc Vesuvius, and got one himself, just to see what it was like. A MISS, BUT A GOOD LINE SHOT. * Iphigeneia, ' her father said one morning, when the ships were becalmed at Aulis, * Iphigeneia, do you know why Presiilent Hayes is like Charles IX. of France ?' The daughter of Agamemnon, who was working a green worsted dog on a seal- brown sofa cushion, said, ' Two giet-ns, a pink, three yellow and four brown,' and tlien spoke up : ' Because he was a long time reachin' to his title ?' ' Hey ?' shouted the venerable Calclias, who was a little hard of hearing, ' Hey, what's that ?' 'Because,' repeated Iphigeneia, bluMhing at her own audacity, ' he was a long time re- gent to his title?' The Reverend Mr. Calchas shook his head and said this paragraphing was too string for him, and went away to kill a goo^e f<*t its bone, and look at the com husks to see how the winter was going to be, while tlie son of Atreus only laughed, and told his daughter she was a mile away from it, and Iphigeneia tried again. ' Because,' she said, ' he's a kind of little off'un ?' But Agamemnon told her not to get slangy, and she gave it up. ' Why is it ?' she asked. ' BjBcanse,' said her father, with the happy, triumphant air of a man whose cojj- undrum comes back to himself for solution, 'because he is friendly to Pacify the Potter.' Iphigeneia laid her work down on her lap, crossed her hands on the idle needles, and after musing a moment in silence, inquired : ' Friendly to which ?' 'To Pacify the Potter, ' replied herwaslike farent,with evident ill humour. 'Pacify the 'otter ; can't you see ? Potter ; Pacify the Potter.' •Ye-ee,' replied Iphigeneia, 'yes, I see what you mean, I gness,but hie name wasn't Pacify, it was Palissy ; Palissy the Potter.' And then Agamenmnon threw his helmet on the floor, and said something savage about the stupid FVench not knowing how to spell a man's name^iyhow, and went and told 8J HAWK- RYES. CalohaH lie wa» tired of fooling around here, aiid if he couldn't tell him when they were going to have goo'vice repoi'ts. And ten nnnutes later the revengful Calehas had cooked up a plan for cutting Iphigeneia's neck off'. It appears, from the teachings of liiatory, that it was just as hard to build a conuntlnun that would stay, away iu prehistoric times as it is to-day. RECREATIONS IN MYTHOLOGY. 'Have some yourself,' shouted the un- happy son of .Eolus, pausing in his profes- sional duties with the big stone, to look at hi.s neighbour in the water, who was doing his level l)e.st to take a modest quenvlicr, hut was always frustrated by his enforced and perpetual red-ribbon vows. ' Drink hearty, Tantalus, you're welcome.' • Thank you, good Sisyphus, " replied the disconsolate Phrygian, with an ecjually fine play of delicate sarcasm ; ' put a brick n. der the stone to hold it, aueen -confirmed, iuid reversed, and remanded, and referreil to the nnwter to take proof, anut neither of them being. able to climb a tree?' 'Then,' said the philosopher, 'I give it up.' 'Because.' «aid the poet, 'it IS Cleopatra's neeiUe. ' And then these two great men looked long and silently into their glasses, and stirrad them in abstracted manner, until Callimachu8reinarkeont. Xothiiij; to say. How could they spell " fraud" with- out an f ?' And the wily Ulysses, who wasn't very well read up in politics, said that was too deep for him. STUDIES OF THE ANTIQUE. It was the enening after Hector's last at- tack upon the Greek cainp^anft there was a general gloom, as usual after these matinees, over the entire community. The son of Peleus, yawning over a volume of the report of the committee, on the ' conduct of the war,' turned to Agamemnon, and said : ' Why were there no democratic papers puUiflhed in Israel or Judea ?' The king of men chewed his toothpick for a few moments in deep reflection, and then he said lie didn't know, unless it was liecause ihi Mosaic laws were so terribly down on all kinds of vice and immorality. But the swift-footed Achilles said that wouldn't do at all« and Patroclus, dearest and most honoured among ' the brazen-coated Achaians in the war,' saia that maybe it was becanae the lanw^lites were a commercial na- tion, and wouldn't sell ink and paper oa long tinie. The wm of JBaoiu shook his head. The THE ODD I SEE. What time Ulysses, in the frosty mom. Prepare*! to face the tlerw November storm. His well-saved winter du'is he eageraeeks. And in each c-loant's dark ie<'ess he peeks. ' Ehu !' he cries, " my ulster in not here. Nor in their place the heavy booM appear ; My seal-skin rap. when I \ronld put it on. Prom it« accustomed p»^ m surely gone. I see no scarf ; by Venus and her loves. Home son of Mercury hath cribbed my gloves. Meliercule ! who's got my chest prot«ctorf I'm cleaned out by some savings baak dirac- . tor.' With tliat he ripped, and roared, and cussed and swar'. While all his household looked on from afar. To him, at length, with grieving, down cast eyes, Faithful Penelope, distracted, cries : ' Ulysses, hush ; such actions more become On who is steeped in old New England rum. \Vhy wag your tongue with neither rhyme nor reason. For things that are so useless oat of season? Why should an ulnter cumlxT up tln! wail, when Au.'just .tun-niys fiercely on us fall i Wiiy should your winter hont ■ imppdo our way, When Jul.v sunstroke-^ hold ttieii- fatal sway 7 Go to ; wheu aainmer'8 sun was liot and strong The I'lastm- I'tiris poildlur came uUutg ; Quick for his wares I changed each winter. robe. And sent him burdened down the dusty road. I think, foorsooth, your seuselesa rant'll cease When you behold our plaStai'ed mantel-piece.' He views the mantel : on bis knotted face, Frowns scatter smiles, and smiles the dark frowns chMKe. He pauses for a space, then sits htm down, And makes liim ready to go off dawn town. First pulls, to save himself from snow and sleet. Two plaster paris kittens on his feet. Arouml his neck, with cut ton thread, he ties A snow-white angel with the bluest eyes. Napoleon, with his crossed arms flrmly press- ed. He bfaids upon Ms oough-affectefl chest. Two jet black dogs with gilded ooUar-bands, Ho drawn for gloves upon his trembling hands. While a huge plaster paris billy goat. Swings over his shoulders for an orercoat. Loudlaogh the gods, as down the street be strides And e'en Penelope his style deridsa HAWK-EYES. ' HOME LIFE OF THE ANCIENTS. It was a dismal, rainy day in December. Socrates, who ha<'i no umbrella, and in fact didn't have time to live until the 6rst one was jnade, stood on the front steps of his house, drawing his cloak around hinf, before venturing. down the street. From the oppo- jiitc side of the street his friend Tberemenes, passing by, familiarly hailed him as'Soc,' and shouted : ' Blustery this morninfl;. ' ' Yes,' replied the philosopher, ' it's cold. ' • Hey ?' suddenly shot the voice of Xan- tippe, from a second storey window; 'hoy 7 what's that?' 'I said,' exclaimed Socrates, promptly throwing up his guard mid backing prudent- ly into the doorway ; * I say it's scold. ' * Said what 7' waa the sharp rejoinaer ' yo a say that agup, and say it slow. ' ' It's coJd, repeated the philosopher ; ' it's scold ; it's cold ; it's scold as ice, I said.' There was a moment's silence, during which Xantippe appeared to be bur- ied in profound thought, while the great disciple of Anaxagoras occu- tied the pamful interval by girding up is loins and tuokin^ bis trousers in the tops of his boots, and m«^ing other preparations for a lively run. Presently there came from the window : ' You hold on there a minute, young man, till I come dowu. I want to see you a second before you go down town , ' There was a fierce, rapid flappi ig of Attic sandals upon the wet pavemcat, the wild rush of a cloaked figure through the peltering rain, and ten minutes later Socrates was ox- plainimg to Plato and Xfc*:ophon that he had chased a street car all the way from the Peiraio gate, and was clear oui< of breath. ROMAN POMESTTO LIFE. It was along about the kalendb of May when Coriolanus went into the hall closet at the head of the stairs and brought forth a Kir of his last summer trouse^*". The mailed nd, that ' Hire an eagle in a dove cote. Buttered the Voices in Gsrioli,.' dropped wiih » gesture of despair when he bBheld a laMm- Jig postern gate in the raiment, where ftreach Mr fiscure there should have been non'i. 'To lim, his true »nd honourable wife, the fair V^irffilia, aaid : * Now the 5ods orown thee, Goriolanns, irhat appears to hz ^he trouble with vou 7' ' Now the gods m«n«3 these troubles, oh, BT gracious silenoe !' replied Ooriolanus. See what a rrat the envious tooth of tiir^e MM Buule.' Virgilia dropped her tender, beaming eyet and drew a heavy sigh, as she turned and dived mournfully into the rag bag to hunt for a patch. ' My lord and husband,' she said, wearily dragging up Ints of red flannel, tufts of raw cotton, scraps of calico, tags of carpet rags, and finding nothing that would match tbe^ lavender trousers any nearer than a slab oi seal-brown empress cloth. 'I've patched those trousers till my eyes and fin^rs ache at the sigiit of them. I would the immortal gods would send on Rome and to our house the ou .1 unending blessing of eternal piece.' <^ ridljuuis loolcil at her steadUy for a mo- rn ut, but couldut tell from her unrippled face whether she meant it or not. / And I too, thou noble sister of Publicola,' he said, ' I too, thou moon of Rome, for my LTeat soul, to fear invulnerable, is weary of the restless Qoi of wore.' VirKiliu dropped the rag-bag and looked up at him quickly, b>it he never smiled. ''Keno, ' she said. ' Put it there," he said, and then they both promised they "would never behaVe lo like mouthing paragraptiers again. THE PUPIL Olf SOCRATES. One morning, on their way to the aca- demy, and while they were yet lu the city, two eminent disciples of Socrates, who were cnuTimins for the junioir examination as tliey walkefl along, heard the human voice utti r* ing remarks m the female language at a rate of one hundred and ninety words a minute. The remarku ere made in pure, classical Greek. Both students paused to listen. ' Construe, ' said Ap^lodorus, with mock sternness. ' It is the old girl, Xantippe.' ' And >onder goes the master,' said Apol- lodoi-us, as a venerable-looking man, in a linen duster and a helmet hat, fled swiftly down a side street in the direction of the Peiraic gate, hotly pursued by a cistern pole with a red-headed woman at the end of it, while the boys of the neighbourhood rent the air with • shouts of ' Whoa, Emma I' and ' Soo et tuam I' HECTOR'S LAST. 'Andromache, 'said Hector, who wai sit- ting on the floor in Priam's palace, tying a cranben^ on his bunion, and swearing venge* anoe on the man who invented box-toed san- dals; 'Andromache.' Andromache, who waa getting ready for the bawl that was to come off mi soon ai tiie Preeks got inaidt of Troy, tried to say, id Apol- ^n, in a swiftly of tha sra pole [d of it, 9nt the I' and rM ait* lying a 1 venge- M tan* •»y, HAWK-EYES. ' What do you want ?' but as her mouth was full of bair-pina she only said : ' Wup poo you wup ? The godlike Hector understood her all the tjiiuie, and with a terrible grimace as he drew the bandage a little too tight, he said : 'Why is Hawkeye creel: like HellCJate rock ?' Andromache, who knew Hector was go- ing out to fight that morning, was wonder- ing how she wuuld look in black, and didn't understand just what he said. ' I didn't know, ' she remarked, m a tont' of surpi-ise, ' that Hawki Krick did like HelgaTrock.' Hector ceasetl to pet his bunion for a mo- ment and looked up with an expression ot Itusiness. Then, with the explicit intonation of a man who has a good thing and isn't go- ing to \}e trifled with he repeated h\» ipiestion^ * Oh, ' exclaimed Andromaciie, with a luat- ter-of-fact air, ' I suppose it's because it's