1 THE WIT &HUMOf. ! OF A NATION IN PICTURE, SONG & STORY f .lUSTRATED BYAMERICA'S greatest ARTIorSi SPECIAL EDITION c /. CARICATUR {TENTH EDITION) WIT AND HUMOR OF A NATION IN PICTURE, SONG AND STORY find tl immec ds t( Illustrated by Grant E. Hamilton ^jlHHIIl.. J. Conacher "Zim" U llllllliiilllk. W. M. Goodes E. Flohri 'Ip^^ . H. M. Wilder Art Young ■ fci J no. Cassell A. S. Daggy 1^ im\«wui^ ymiwj^'^^m Hy Mayer j. M. Flagg i/?^i?^» ^iJw^y^^^ai^ C. J. Taylor T. S. Sullivant T. S. AUen R. F. Outcault Penrhyn StanlaWs pvrmi^p Bob Addams Albert Levering F. Nankivel \wMiF:^m}im. Malcolm Strauss S. Werner ^mmWQi F. H. Ladendor "Gus" Dirks Charles Sarka F. L. Fithian 'PR'W^ R. S. Bredin "BB" Baker Albert Bloch J. H. Smith \r M%^ Bert Levy Sydney Adamson /|f V. A. Soboda Peter Newell Fred Lewis Gordon Grant H. C. Greening Frank Snapp Geo. Herriman C. T. Anderson Arthur Lewis Geo. R. Brill C. Knowlton Poems and Stories by Burges Johnson Tom Masson Edwin L. Sabin Carolyn Wells W. J. Lampton W. D. Nesbit Edward W. Barnard Henry Tyrrell R. K. Munkittrick Frank H. Brooks Eugene Geary and others JUDGE COMPANY, 225 FIFTH AVENUE. NEW YOR K 1909 Copyri iht, 1908, by Judce Company, 225 FKlh Avenue, New York I. Amphibious Cottage By F. P. Pitzcr IHEY called it the Amphibious Cottage, I guess, because half tlie time it was in the water and the other half it was on land. -The proprietor ' was an old sea-dog ; but the way he chawed tobacco made him look more like a sea-cow. The cottage stood so close to the sea that the boarders occupying front rooms on retiring put on bathing-suTts instead of pajamas, because no one knew what minute a wave would come up the front stoop and crawl into the rooms. Every morning the mosquito nettings were full of fish. The pillows were stuffed with cork and the betis were built in the form of rafts. There were old-fashioned mot- toes hung about the rooms reading, " Paddle your own canoe," " We will gather at the river," etc. One dark night we heard a terrific bump against the house. Some mistook it for an earth- quake on its way home from San Francisco ; but upon looking out of the parlor- window we discovered that a ferry-boat from Jersey City had run into us. There was no shooting about the premises, l)Ut every Friday the boarders used to fish from the roof of the cottage. One dark night a newly- arrived couple held a spoon- fest on the front piazza. In fact, their yum-yumming was so strenuous they actually soup-spooned. They did not see the tide rising, and as they spooned, oblivious of all surroundings, the tide riz. Soon the water came up round them, but they kept right on spooning. When their feet had been in the salt water long enougii to be pickled, he said to she, " Dost know, Dryid, 'tis get- ting dam-damp ?" (No ; the man stuttered.) " Yes," said she to he; "an' methinkest 'tis 'goingski to rain — me corn aches." But upon reaching down for that afflicted member she dis- covered their predicament. She jumped up with a scream and a crab dangling froir her little toe. Then he jumped up, only to find the turn-ups of his trousers full of fish. They both immedi- ately got cold feet and retired. Amphibious Cottage ! I shall never forget it. //i?— "Miss Olkyrl and Mr. Stagit played cards to- gether the whole voyage." S/ie — "Which won ?" He- ll resulted in a tie." I OUD sing the praises of the golden straw •^ That slants aloft at forty-five degrees — The fr.iil cunnecting link that weds serene The rapt soul and the julep lush and cool. A STANDING JOKE. Mrs. Newlywed — " What did you do with those cigars I bought you last birthday?" Mr. Newi.ywkd — " Oh, I'm saving them up for a few of my dearest friends.". Mrs. Newlywed — " Till when?' Mr. Newlywed— " The first of April." ICED TEE. A Vegetable Sentiment. IT was Memorial day, and an astonishing spirit of sec- tional friendliness prevailed.. Flowers had been scat- tered indiscriminately over the graves of Federals and Confederates, and a regiment wearing both the blue and the gray was headed by a banner appropriately in- scribed. Old Uncle Eb had brought his mistress's little grandson to see the "show." "Watch out now, 1 on- ey," he said, " when dem Yanks and Rabels comes along. I dunno zactly why, but dey has printed on a flag in big letters, ' Pease and hominy.' " a. f. m. Success Assured. Drawing - tea i her — " Your son's drawing is abominable, sir! His per- spective is all wrong, and his blending of colors is atrocious !" Ambitious fnther (de- lightedly) — "Good! Then I need have no further con- cern regarding his success as a leading exponent of the impressionist school !" Smart Little Girl. JU OTHER was telling little six-year-old Gertrude a fairy- ' * tale. " Two great princes wished to wed the beautiful prin- cess," ran the story. " One of the princes was poor, but he had a noble heart. The other prince was rich — oh, very rich — but he was not good. Still, the princess could not make up her mind, because, you see, the bad prince acted very nice to the princess. And the prin- cess was almost worried to death " " Well, I think she was very silly," broke in little Gertrude. "Why didn't she marry the rich prince, get his money, then divorce him and marry the good prince ?" And little Gertrude's big, earnest eyes rested inquir- ingly upon mother's face. Leaf from a Poet's Note.book. sonnet. A ' Am yUKRV. yo' gwine tcr de masquerade-ball Miss Jackson — ' ter-night ?" Mr. Johnson — " Yes ; Ah's gwine as a ' walkin' delegate.' " Miss Jackson — "Wliat am yo' gwiiie ter wear — stripes or diamonds ?" price, Ixmnet — . nice, pawn it poke. (loLJuO* / SECOND NATURE. An irresistible movement of hands on reading the poster. Spoiled His Story. I( C*IR," says the dignified stranger, walking into the •^ office of the chief of pohce of Chicago during con- vention week, •' I have a complaint to register against your men." " What is it ?" politely asks the chief. " They are too officious. Before coming here I had heard a great deal about the dangers of life in this city, but whenever two foot- pads* try to hold me up an officer steps from the shadows and arrests them. When a pickpocket gets his hands on my watch an officer nabs him; when a restaurant man overcharges me, or a cab- man tries to skin me, an officer is on the scene and readily adjusts matters. And so it goes." " Well, I certainly can't see where you have any complaint," said the chief " Can't ? Why, how th, dickens am I going to put any tinge of interest and excitement in the story of my visit t9 Chicago if this thing keeps up ? " Graft. WHEN Jason sneaked to the Hesi>erides And neatly pinched, one night, the Golden Fleece, 'Twas happily not known to the police, Or they would promptly cry. " Our divvy, please !" To captains sailing oriental seas The pregnant word "backsheesh," was just a peice Of native wit, that caused their woes to cease And landed were the priceless argosies. " How moves the world?" you ask. Well, just the same As it revolved a thousand years ago. The common people, still raked fore and aft. Submit without a murmur to the game. 'Tis called finesse, diplomacy, we know — But in its brazen nakedness 'tis graft. EUGENE GEARY. A Sure Method. ,{ I OOK here !" shouted the practical politician, bursting ^ into the headquarters ot the boss. " We must have that new district-attorney kicked right out." " What has he been doing ?" inquired the man of ex- perience suavely. •• ffe's been doing everything and everybody. Why. he has even been enforcing the laws." "That's pretty bad," said the boss. "What do you propose to do about it ?" "Do!" exclaimed the irate worker. "I propose to. have charges made against him and have him broke." , " My son," said the boss, " you are only a beg-.nner. By doino- that you'd only place him in a position to liave him- self vindicated, and he would be a constant menace to us," " But something has got to be done." "Quite true, and I'm going to (.[o it." " Going to have him sandbagged ?" "Worse and worse! I'm going to have liim nomi- nated ibr a judgeship, or even for governor." " What's that ?" " I guess you he.nrd me right. I'm going to promote him, for that's the Liiest thing in practical politics. We who have experience find it much easier to push a man off the roof than to kick him out of the basement door, and it settles him much more effect- ively." -STICKY FLY-PAPER. What little Willie Fly would like to do if he was a king Entirely. ■'ANCE there was a would-be joUe-writer who gave birth ^"^ to a lunny story. It was known to be funny because the man who wrote it, and who, therefore, knew it most ■ intimately, said it was funny. He had heard that it was hard to market literary ma- terial by mail. So, as a friend of his was going next week to New York, the w-riter of the funny yarn said to this friend, " As you are goirg to New York next week will you not please take my funny story and market it ? I would gladly do as much for you sometime." As the friend was in the butcher business this was a ■good, safe promise for the writer to make. The butcher-man was anxious not to offend tlie writer, as the latter owed him money. (The butcher's name was Meredith, and the writer had been owin' Meredith for a long time, which was what made him think he could write.) So the friend took the jest and put it in the inside fright-hand pocket of his coat and went. First to one office and then to another went the man with the funny tale, and everywhere he went the result ■ was the same. Each editor looked at the manuscript a short while and '■returned it with thanks that did not seem sincere. At last, when the friend's pedometer showed that he ■ had tramped twenty-three miles, he took the funny story from his pocket, tore it into several thousand bits and ; threw it into an open coal-hole, remarking as he did so, "There is such a thing as carrying a joke too far." STRICKLAND W. GILLILAN. Mr. Wright's Fwright. THERE once lived a man named Wright, * Who came home very late one dark wnight. " You can pull your old freight," Said his wife at the geight. He forgot what to say in his hvright. Had the Papers. A FEW bold spirits determined to prevent the new lady agitator from Kansas from speaking. " ^Vhere is your lecture license ?" they demanded. With a glance of withering scorn, mingled with tri- umph, she opened her grip, extracted therefrom a paper, and waved it in their faces. " Here it is !" she shouted vindictively. It was her marriage certificate. Even then there was ■ one man on the committee of protesters who could not •understand w-hy his associates acknowledged their defeat so readily. He was single. Another Odd Thing. (( A ND there is another strange thing I have observed," remarked the aged philosopher, stroking his long white beard. " There is ?" asked the interested listener. " What is •it ?'• " That the coming man is always one who has got there." An Art Critic. (( lifHAT ! call that picture art ?" he sneered. '' " Those greens give me the blues. I know what's good, and, by this beard ! What I dislike 1 chews." Then sections of that poster rolled With gusto down his throat, This Ruskin of the summer wold — His majesty the goat. EUGENE GEARY. A Reversal of Fortune. IN the vicinity of Los Angeles, before that city was pro- vided with a complete drainage system as at present, lived and thiove a man of large wealth derived from the sale of vegetables raised on land fertilized with the sewage of the city. The dissemination of that sort of provender In the town was the occasion of much discussion privately and in the newspapers. Several crusades were started and vigorously maintained against the use of sewage- raised vegetables. When this excitement was at its height and the city council had the matter up for a wrangle at almost every session, a newspaper wag remarked, " Well, it might be a good deal more practical to be suing the old man for damages a while instead of contin- uously damning him for sewage." stricki.and w. gilulan. Can It Be? THE two Russian belles are discussing their mutual friends. " And there is Rosiekoff Dimitriskewatchiskebooliske- vitch," says the first girl. " I think she is such a sweet thing ! Anil don't you think her name is beautiful ?" " Oh, yes," concedes the second. " But I have heard — now don't you whisper this to a soul — I have heard that her name isn't all her own." " Mercy 1 What do you mean ? ' " It is hinted that she wears an artificial skevitch." Kind fates preserve us ! If the ladies in other parts ot the world begin amplifying their names as they do their hair, we never shall know whether a lady is really pos- sessed of the aristocratic cognomen engraved upon her cards, or is simply a plain Smith, Jones, or Brown. Should Be Equalized. DECKONING the w-aiter, the guest says, " 1 see on the menu that this house charges extra for one order served to two guests." '■ Yes, sir," answers the deferential waiter. " Well, do you make any reduction for two orders served to one guest ?" " No, sir." " Then I shall proceed to inform the manager of this gross injustice. It seems to me that the rule ought to work both ways." The Man, the Mule and the Maul. yy M.^\N hit a mule with a maul '• While stealing in stealth past his stall. The mule put his heels Where the man put his meals And the bells are now pealing his p'all. ts-a o a o -: > •< 1 " 1 1 X 1 5:^ -J < 1 n X r So,-' S « - fr5-- " •^'T ■"2 3 2. jr ■■" 5i li 3 -c " -. t^r So' ■^- faces whe H »-< — 5- n ? ^ 3 3 / \^ XO USE HAVING MONEY. MoSE Jackson {injai/)^" Ef I on'y had fifty dollars I could git Friend—" Huh ! Ef yo' had fifty dollars yo'r lawyer would git it Played Football with Him. Geraldine — •• You are a baseball player, are you not ?" Gerald — " Yes ; and I wish you'd mention it to your father." Geraldine — " What for ?" Gerald—-' He took me for a football player last night." out on bail." A Mournful Finish. THERE was e.xcitement in the hen-house. * The turkey on the top roost gobbled him- self hoarse with frenzy, and ever)' other hen in the establishment cackled like a punctured tire. "Young Fatten Fluffy was monkeying around in the yard," exclaimed the messen- ger who had just arrived, " and met the boss with a large hatchet." " And how did he behave himself ?" asked the flurried chorus. •' Oh," said tlie messenger, " he lost his head completely." Small Choice. p.ATHER had carved the turkey and had given the drumsticks to two of the chil- dren, the thighs to two more, the wings to his old-maid sisters, the white meat to mother and some of the other guests, the back to Uncle Bill, who took what he could get and mur- mured not, like a true philosopher ; then father looked at the platter and mused, " The situation grows desperate." He turned the remnants over and over and went on, " It seems to be neck or nothing with me." Where His Mind Was. Professor Know ill — " William, please gi»'e me a sen- tence showing the diff^erence in meaning between suffi- cient and enough." Williatn — •' To-morrow I'll have sufficient turkey, but I won't have enough." 7f^^/\//A/Q SUSPICIOUS. Medium— "Madam, I can't seem to get your husband— he won't come at my bidding.^^' \VlDOW— "The wretch ! He's probably off flirting with some hussy of a lady-ghost." r 7, ■^^-^ A SWELL NAME. Mrs. Casey — " An' phat did th' docthor say ailed ye?" Mr. Casey — '-Appendicitis." Mrs. Casey — "Och, worra ! Oi knew he'd say thot if ye wore thot new Sunday suit.' Out of Business. Cobwigger — "I hear the storm blew your tent down ?" Circus fakir — " Worse than that. The rain gave the sword - swallower a sore throat and washed alH the designs off the tat- tooed man." He Knew. Teacher (to class in geography) — "And who knows what the people who live in Turkey are called ?" Class (ur-ininiously) — "Turks!' Teacher — " Right. Now, wi.Li can tell me what those living in Aus- tria are called .'" Little b y — " Please, mum, I know. Ostrich- es !" Foiled at Last. (( I TELL yew what, them bunco men didn't git none o' my money this trip," boasted Uncle Silas. " They didn't, hey ?" " No, siree ! I lost my pocket-book on the way to town, an' they wasn't nothin' fer 'em ter git." To Get Out of It Cheap. Mrs. Newcomb (on being asked to contribute a dollar to help make up the deficit in the minister's salary) — " Really, I can't afford to give so much money ; but I'll buy two chickens, a pound of coffee, a can of condensed milk, a bottle of olives, some cottage cheese, a spare-rib, and some cut flowers for the church supper, the proceeds of which, you know, are to be turned in.'' Not in the Books. ««li/HAT are the chief prod- ucts of South Ameri- ca ?" asked the school-teacher. " Tommy Taddells, you may answer." " Rubber, coffee, ultimatums, and insurrections," replied Tommy. Forever Debarred. Lassitudinous Lemuel — " Why was Weary refused membership in the brotherhood of enervated pilgrims ?' Peregrinating Paul — " We discovered that he was born in Bath, Maine." Art and Nature. " \i/HAT a queer pattern !" says the patron ot the tailor. " It looks like one of the maps showing the parallels of latitude." " Yah," says the tailor. " Id iss a new pattern, made especi.iUy for dem bow-legged men's pantses." I <( He Is Sorry Now. Co Jarvis got his wife by advertising V\ " Yes; and now he's thinking of the exchange column." TO THE HEAD OF THE CL.A.SS. Teacher — "What was 'the restoration.' Bobby?" Bobby — " A fake. Pop 's just as bald as before he used it.' A HARDER MATTER. Miss Strongmynd {zuho has hieti struck for a nickel) — " Well. yo', and fell into his arms. It was not the first time a lady had fallen into his arms. He knew what to tlo. He put her under the spring. That revived her. And — but this is too rapturous for prose. IT IS SUNG: '• Thou art my love, my love !" said she. He mildly acquiesced. It seemed to him this course would be Presumably the best. ** Thou art my fountain come to life, ^ A fairy set thee free ! Whoe'er thou art, I am thy wife ! T love, 1 love but thee !" IT IS REL.ATED, TOLD AND SAID : This rather startled the prince. He was a prince, of course. The hero always is in fairy-tales. He soothed the voung maiden and asked her to tell him quietly and confidentially what the trouble really was. Then she confessed all. She had seen him — at least his profile — and had loved hiitl— that is, the profile. He had gone away before she had a chance to tell her love. Then she had come to the island and fallen in love with the spring, which she had personified as him. Did he mind ? Not a bit ! It didn't matter. He was quite willing. She was beautiful. She had said that he was beautiful — that is, the spring, which was his personification, and — well, that closed the incident. But, horribile dictu ! IT IS SUNG: A rush, a roar, and a rock crashed down On the prince and the maiden fair ! It hit him exactly on his crown And her on the top of her hair ! 'Twas the jealous spring — or, maybe so, Or, p'raps, 'twas an accident, Though we shall none of us really know Tlie irulh of this sad event ! IT IS RELATED, TOLD AND SAID: No ! no one ever knew. At all events, the prince and the maiden fair perished, and, doubtless, lived happily ever afterward in some fairjdand, where there were no divorces. What became of the other maiden history' de- poneth not. She was, however, merely an item. Proba- bly she married the tree, and is now a weeping widow — that is, willow ! And now for the last time IT IS SUNG : Now tales like this a moral impart. No matter if sung or said, And this one shows the vulnerable part Is not the heart, but the head. The Origin of Pumpkin Pie /^NCE upon a time — a long while ago, children — there lived a wise old man who was always trying to see what he could discover. Having made several perpetual-motion machines and one or two air-ships, he was walking through the fields to avoid his creditors, when he came upon a pumpkin. "This," he said to himself, bending liown and feeling of the yellow orb, " is a vegetable growtli ; but I firmly believe that it acquires its hue from small particles of gold which it extracts from the earth." So he put the pumpkin on his shoulder and took it home, telling all anxious inquirers that he was going to discover how to extract the gold from it. At home, in spiie of all his wife said, he cut the pump- kin up and put it in a pot and boiled it — only he argued that he was melting it. When at last it was a pulpv mass, he poured it out of the pot and right on top of a pan of dough that his wife had rolled out for the purpose of making a dried-apple pie. Now you know the kind ot a wife he had, do you not ? A woman who will feed her husband on dried-apple pie deserves to be married to two or three inventors, doesn't she ? And so, he put the pumpkin pie and the dough into the oven, asserting that he would harden it with the heat and product" a solid sheet of gold, and be so rich that he could run for office on a relorm ticket. But, bless you ! when the pumpkin and the dough came out of the oven it was not a solid sheet of gold at all, but a rich, golden, tantalizing section of goodness. And the poor inventor was hungry, so he bit into it. A few moments later several of his creditors broke into the house and came upon him, crying, •' Look here ! Where is all that gold you were going to get lor us ?" And he never even looked up at them, but kept right on eating, saying, " Who cares f'r gold ? (Bite, bite. O-o-o-oh !) Who cares f r gold ? Men, I have discovered pumpkin pie !" And the creditors sat down also and ate, and they, too, were happy ever after. So now, when you eat pumpkin pie you should be glad that thf poor inventor did not succeed in making gold ot the pumpkin. For if he had, the pumpkin might never have gone further than to fill vour teeth. ** MAMM.A., is it the Fourth of July in heaven ?" asked ■ 1'' little Johnny, as he watched a shower of falling meteors. /5- The Great American Novel. Young author — " Ah ! I'm glad to find you in. Are you busy to-day ?" Publisher — "I'm never busy, sir. It's .Hgainst my principles." Young author — "That is good. I came to tallc with you about the ' great American novel.' " Publisher — " Aha ! I suppose you have written it ?" Young author — " I flatter my- self that I have." Publisher — "I see. Now, young man, to get at the bottom of this thing in a hurry, I want to ask you a few questions." Young author — " Deligiited, I assure you." Publisher — " How many char- acters have you introduced in your siory ?" Young author — " The usual number — about a dozen, I should say." Publisher — " Bad at the start. You've got to have at least five hundred. How many nationalities are represented ? ' YouMo author — " Oh, it's pure- ly American, don't you know. My characters are all American born." Publisher — " Bad again. You- 've got to have at least fifty differ- ent nationalities. Have you sent any of your characters across the pond by wireless ?" Young author — " But, sir, I don't write impossible, improbable stuff. My book is high-class fiction, after the style of Hawthorne and Goldsmith and " Publisher — "Wait! Have you depicted lynchings, head-on collisions, political intrigues, society scandals, mobs, riots, strikes, e.\plosions, absconders, homicides, infanticides, suicides, poisoners, automobile criminals, bridge-jumping, prize-fighting, steamboat and theatrical calamities, etc., etc.?" Young author — " No, sir ; I " Publisher — •' Enough, young man ! You might do to edit a fancy-work page in some Old Girls' Home "Jour- nal, but as the writer of the coming ' great American novel' you are on the wrong train." joe o ie. ■'-l- T First beetle — " Second beetle— ing to find wliich one. A Liberal View. <( LI.VVE you seen much of Miss Dumonde ? DOCTORS STUMPED. What's the matter?" " Oh, Mr. Centipede has broken a leg and the doctors are try- An Unwritten History. • THE humorist was sitting in his office, dull and discour- aged, chewing the end of his pen and spitting in the direction of the advertising-man's cuspidor. Not a single joke for to-morrow's paper could he get. Inspiration had fled and burned the bridges behind her. But the darkest hour is just — while your chickens are being stolen. Just then a creamy, melting, chorus-girl smile diffused itself over his face. Taking his feet from the table and slapping his legs, he exclaimed, " Oh, I have it ! I will write something and call it a weather-prophet joke." And it was copied in all the papers, and drummers told it in all the hotel-lobbies. A Theory. She — " The man came to look at the roof to-day, but he didn't do any work — ^just looked at it and went away." He — " Maybe he's going to mend the leak by Chris- tian-science treatment." She's apt to be reserved, they say, And seldom lets one get beyond The commonplace of every day." " Oh, yes, indeed ! I saw so much That really I was stricken mute, Although I only met her once But — she was in her bathing-suit !" (I IF he wasn't in the wreck why is he suing the railway company for damages ?" " His wife was on the train, bound for South Dakota to get a divorce, and the nervous shock, together with an impairment of her complexion, caused her to drop the proceedings." \Vd Hi Hunks's Happiness. ALI HOUGH the old pertater-bug •■ Around the furrers hops. The cider that will brim the jug Into my dream just pops ; So I don't worry much about Pertaters. don't you see ? When I hev cider 1 kin shout An' very thankful be. The pigs are gettin' good an' fat, An' so 's the hens an' lambs ; An' soon the beams, I'll bet my hat, Will bendin' be with hams. So I will very thankful be. Though the pertaters fail, For lots of turkeys now I see A-settin' on the rail. Among the corn-stalk's russet ranks I hear the w^ild dove coo. An' am so blame chock full of thanks I don't know what to do. An' when I see the pumpkin bob Amid the weeds, breeze-fanned. For joy I fill my old " corn-cob " An' smoke to beat the band. (( No Wonder. CMITHERS says he lights one cigar from another now, he smokes so much." " I don't wonder, considering the kind of cigars that Smithers smokes." " Why ?" " Matches must cost more." {( No Doubt. genius has been defined as an you know intense capacity for hard work, it would be " Yes. I suppose it would be much more satisfactory if it were a labor-saving device." Cinderella's After-thought. /^INDERELLA had just finished the slipper- An Old Salt's Observations. CAME, as far as I can figger out, is bein' popular with a lot of strangers that wouldn't like you if they knew you. Th' records of our good times are written with a pencil on a slate. Th' records of our sorrows are engraved upon a monument with chisels. We spend about two-thirds our lives in sayin' that we dasn't do things, an' th' other third in bein' sorry that we hadn't been afraid to do th' things we dast. It must be mighty nice to be a king an' run a country ; but I reckon that it ain't a marker on what 'twould be to be a queen. She runs the king, you know. Th' nearest to th' ideal kick that I ever heard a man come was when Bill Jones burst out with th' statement, " Gosh hang it ! it's bad enough to be poor, with- out havin' to work, too." He was an aw- ful lazy man. Bill was. Life is full of mix-ups, Th' first v'y- age I made to sea th' fo'c's'le grub was so plum bad that the hungry sailors couldn't eat it, while in th' cabin, where th' food was fine, there wasn't a passen- ger that wasn't seasick an' without an appetite. I never git mad when I read about an American girl a-marryin' of an English- man to git his title. All I have to do to •calm me do\\n is to look around these TJnited States an' see what she might have took at home an' not even got a tide. A millionaire was on my ship, an' ■ every chap aboard was lookin' at him en- n-ious like an' sayin' that he wished that Ihe was him. Next day a block fell an' cracked him on th' head. They quit their wishin' then. It's only good luck that we envy. edward m.'vrshall. fitting episode. " Dear me !" she remarked as her lover was dusting off his knees, "I do hope he is a real prince and not a shoe-clerk in disguise." Only the assurances of the fairy godmother that every- thing was as represented made the young woman keep the engagement intact. Careful Elizabeth. ELIZABETH "s a model child, *" Who cleans and sews and bakes. Her manner is both sweet and mild ; In work much joy she takes. " To-day," said she, " I must prepare My work-basket, I s'pose. And to the flower-garden fare To darn the garden-hose." JACK ArPLFTON. HOW HE FOUND HIM. Mrs F.\rmlv— '• Well, how did yew find our son Reuben at college ; was he at the top of the heap in language?" Mr. Farmly— " No, b' gosh ! he was at the bottom o" the heap in a scrimmage. His language, Mariar, 1 won't repeat." '7 The Principle of the Julep. jU AJOR, " asks the northern visitor of Major Shotenfust of Clay Corners, Kentucky, " what is the theory of the mint julep ? I have heard that it is a pleasant drink, but what is the reason for its different ingredients ?" " Well, suh, it's simple as shootin' a man across the valley. Yo' see, fust yo' have to use watah as a basis ; then yo' out in some sugah to hide the fluidity o' the watah ; then yo' put in the mint in ordah to mollify the unpleasant taste o' the sugah an' watah ; an' lastly, yo' covah it with whiskey, so that the fiavoh of the othah ingredients may be propehly disguised." ' A Shining Success. Dr. Pellet — " What became of Puffer ? He failed in law, medicine and teaching." Judge Codex — " Why, he started The Hustler maga- zine and wrote articles on ' Why men fail,' and made a big thing of it. You see, he was well qualified." Had To Qualify. 4 4 IJOW is the daughter of Mr. Muchstuff getting along ?' asked the principal of the summer school. " Not very well," answered the assistant. " I am afraid she will not make sufficient progress for us to give her a diploma entitling her to enter the woman's college she wishes to attend." " Oh, but she has to," asserted the principal. " But she won't pass muster." " But we must pass her," said the principal with a wan smile. Ignorance. Reporter — " I meant my article to be pathetic, sir." Editor — " Pathetic .' You don't know the rudiments of pathos, sir ! Here you have written ' baby ' " Reporter — " What should I have written, sir ?" Editor — •• ' Babe ' — always ■ babe' — when writing pathos." IN ELDRIDGE STREET. First kid — " How dirty your face is ! " Second kid — -'Yes. Me mudder jes' slapped me." The Happy Drum-major. HEN I the street along, As stiff as starch, Unto the wild ding-dong Most proudly march. I know the reason why The ladies smile And heave a wistful sigh At all my style. I am a very great And pompous thing. The while with vim elate I swash and swing — The haughty drum-ma-jor. Who is the bird That swells and leaps before The Twentv-third. A Bright Night. IVTOW, whenn e ye severalle knyghtes of ye rounde-table were gathered together, as was theyre customme, to cracke merne jokes and sing jollie songes, there was one of them, whose name was Sir Burbonne, and he didde lalke with an amazinge wittienesse. Nor coUle anie one saye aniethynge but whatte he wolde come ryghte back atte hymme wyth a replye ye whych was even funnyer than whatte had been sayde. Soe thatte all ye table didde laugh heartilie. Exceple thatte there were one or two who didde seeme to have a grouche. And whenne some one sayde unto these one or two, •• Is notte Sir Burbonne brylliante — is he notte a bryghte knyghte ?" They made replye, surlilie, " Of a truth, he sholde be a bryghte knyghte, seeing thatte he is fulle of moonshyne." Feminine Timidity. /^LD Betsey Nabors was one of the rudely picturesque " characters of a large rural district in the mountains of Virginia. She was a great, muscular woman, her mas- culine appearance being emphasized by heavy boots and an immense bundle, since the gentle nomad carried her home on her back. " I should think, Betsey," said one of the farm- " that you'd be scared to death out in the woods all night." "No, I ain't skeered o' nuthin' — exceptin sometimes," she added with a shamefaced air, " I do be a bit shy of a b'ar." <( A Musical Effort. WH.-VT," we ask of the member of the orchestra ; " what instrument do you find the most difficult to play ? " " The slap-stick. " " But we did not know that was an or- chestral instrument." " It is used in one selection only. There is a very difficult slap-stick obligato in Mike- towski's' Mosquito Sonata in New Jersey.'" The Kindly Cannibal. " |\J|V DEAR," said the kmdly cannibal to his wife, " I wish you wouUl realize that my business affairs are not within your scope. I don't like this habit of yours of always putting your finger in my pie." " I want you to understand," retorted the wife, " that I am going to exercise every right I have. As your wife " •• And I want you to understand," interrupted the can- nibal husband with some heat, " that if you keep on put- ting your finger in the pie the first thing you know all the rest ot you will go into a pot-pie." Silenced, the woman returned to her household duties. Dead Easy for Him. (( A^'D you found not the slightest discomfort in your perilous voyage ?" we asked the man who had re- cently gone through the whirlpool rapids in a barrel. " Me ?" he chuckled. " Not on your period of years ! Evidently you are not aware that I am a regular patron of the Manhattan ' L ' roads." The Same Feeling. Her grandmother (reminiscently) — " Yes, Dorothy ; I remember how happy I was when some one told me your grandfather's name was one of the best in Burke's peerage." Dorothy— ''(yn^l suppose you felt just as I did when I found Charlie's name was in Brad- streets. Miss Johnson yo' know." Mr. Jackson — "Suttinly not LOOKING FORWARD. But marriage is not all bread an' beer an' kisses. I expec's ter git de poker occasionally." I'l A Short Study of Short Jokes By Walter Eugene Traughbcr ON'T you know," said the joke ex- pert, when the conversation had turned to humor, " that I am in- clined to agree with Solomon m his assertion that there is nothing new under the sun. I also am almost a convert to the declara- tion of Mark Twain to the effect that there are only seven jokes in the world and that all the others are simply offshoots. •' For the past quarter of a century- I ha\e been a student of short jokes. I do not claim, ot course, that I have reaa every short joke ever published, but I do claim that I have read every one that has enjoyed any consid- erable circulation ; and not only that, but I remember the point ot erery joke I have ever heard or read, and when I see an old witticism in a new garb I recognize it at once, and, without the least hesitancy, fall upon its neck, figuraiively speaking, and effusively greet it as a valued friend of former days. " The fact is that the perusal of the joke columns of the humorous papers of to-day reminds me of the econom- ical mother, who was asked if the clothing of her three little boys was not an expensive undertaking. ' No," she replied ; ' you see, I cut Willie's clothes down for Johnny, Johnny's down for Robert and Robert's down for Sammy ; then, when Sammy wears his suit out I use the material for patches for the older boys.' •' That's tne way the short joke has been handled for the past quarter of a century or more. I do not believe that within that period a single good idea has been ■evolved into a short joke that has not been used over and •over and over again in a slightly modified lorm. "Jokes, of course, are divided into many classes, two of which — the joke told ' on ' the prominent man and the joke told • by ' the prominent man — are the most popular among jokesmiths. Under the first heading, standing out more prominently thaft any of the others, is the railroad- magnate joke. •' Contemporaneous with the baggage-transfer system on railroads, a story was printed to the effect that a plainly-dressed man — he is always plainly dressed — no- ticed a baggageman at an out-of-the-way station han- dling a trunk in a manner well calculated to reduce it to frngments. ' Aren't you a little rough with that trunk ?' the plainly-dressed man is credited with saying. ' Well, ■what of it ?' the baggage-smasher retorted. ' You don't own this trunk, do you ?' ' No,' responded the plainly- ilressed man ; • hut I own this railroad.' •■ Now, if there is a railroad magnate in the country to-day who hasn't been made the hero of this joke, he will leam something to his advantage if he will so advise me, backing up his statement with an affidavit. So far as I am informed at present, Jim Hill, of the Great Northern, is the most recent magnate to have this bit of humor attributed to him, the scene being laid at a small station in western .Nioniana, and the time within the past six months. " But, coming to the joke told • by the prominent man, here is a fair sample : A member of the Metropolitan Club, of New York, is made to tell a good story on Gen- eral Miles. As the story goes, the general was engaged in conversation with a number of friends in the billiard- room of the Metropolitan, when a man, having a very slight acquaintance with General Miles, approached him. The man evidently had oeen drinking, for, as he stepped beside the general, he slapped him on the back and ex- claimed, ' Well, Miles, old man, how are you ?' For an instant a frown shadowed the face of the noted army officer, but it soon gave way to a quizzical look, as he rf- plied to the offender, ' Don't be so formal, old chap ; just call me Nelse.' "Good story, isn't it? And it may have happened; but if General Miles said anything of the kind the retort was not original with him. This story was first told more than twenty years ago, and John R. MacLean was the hero of it. As the story was told at that time, a fresh young reporter, who barely knew Mr. MacLean, ad- dressed him as • Mack.' • Don't be so formal, young man,' was the quick reply; 'just call me Johnnie.' " Here's another : Sir Conan Doyle very recently is credited with a story to the effect that a young English army officer suffered a severe injury and was compelled to undergo an operation in which a portion of his brain was removed. Later the surgeon who performed the opera- tion met the officer and asked W'hether he was aware of the fact that a portion of his brain was in a bottle in a laboratory. ' Oh, that does not matter now,' replied the officer. ■ I've got a permanent position in the war office.' " Of course I am not asserting that the creator of Sher- lock Holmes did not tell this story, but if he did he bor- rowed it, as it was told in this country long before Sir Conan achieved reputation enough to admit of a good story being attributed to him. In the American version, however, the man who was alleged to have lost a portion of his brain explained that he did not need it for the reason that he had been elected to a state legislature. Not so bad, either, if you know much about state legis- latures. " Here's another sample : At the inauguration of Flavel S. Luther as president of Trinity College, at Hartford, Connecticut, the story is told that Dr. Luther, when rid- ing on a car, saw a student crouched down in one comer in an advanced st=;ge of intoxication. Leaning over. Dr. Luther whispered, ■ Been on a drunk.' The blear-eyed Ip student looked at the noted educator and replied, in a sleepy tone, 'So have I.' " This story is more than a quarter of a centur)' old, but it is slightly changed. As first narrated, a Catholic priest met one of his parishioners wabbling along the street under a very heavy load of intoxicants, and, wish- ing to rebuke the man mildly, said, ' Drunk again.' 'So am I, father,' was the immediate response of the inebriate, who, in all probability, was not as drunk as he might have been. According to another old version, a priest was being shaved, and the barber, an Irishman, being under the influence of liquor, cut his customer's face. ' You see what whiskey does, Pat ?' remarked the priest. ' Yis, father,' replied the barber ; • it do make the skin mighty tender." " Another good one is wafted from the other side of the Atlantic. Marie Corelli is made to tell the story of a Stratford farmer who went to a dentist and asked him what his charges were for pulling a tooth. The dentist replied that he charged fifty cents without gas, and one dollar with gas. ' Weil, we'll just yank her oiit without the gas,' was the rejoinder of the farmer. ' You are plucky,' the dentist remarked. ' Let me see the tooth, please.' ' Oh, it isn't my tooth," said the farmer. • It's my wife's tooth ; she will be along in a minute.' "Now, that is what I call a crack-a-jack — a hummer — but Marie, if she told the story, purloined it from this side of the pond. It was first published, and had a big circu- lation in this country, sliortly after alleged painless den- tistry came into vogue, years and years ago. " Here's another along the same line : ' I thought,' cried the victim indignantly, ' that you were a painless dentist.' ' I am,' replied the smiling operator. ' I do not suffer the slightest pain.' " This joke is as old as the one credited to Miss Corelli. As first told, the dentist was advertising to pull teeth without pain, and when a customer put forth a protest, after frightfully painful experience, the dentist sprung his little joke, and the victim is supposed to have seen the point and subsided. "John Sharp Williams, I notice, is telling a story of a negro down South who had shot a dog which he thought intended biting him. When asked why he did not use the other end of the gun on the dog, the negro asked the owner of the dog w-hy the canine didn't come at him with the other end. Of course I would not, for a moment, accuse the Democratic minority leader of swiping this loke from Sam Jones, but I do assert that the reverend Sam wore it out twenty years ago during a tour of the middle West. The evangelist, however, made a pitch- fork, instead of a gun, tlie weapon used. " And now to turn to the short joke proper. Here is a fair sample : A young lady is asked if her sweetheart got down on his knees when he proposed to her. ' No, indeed," she replied ; ' he was too polite.' ' How was that ?" is asked. 'Too polite to ask me to get up," is the reply. ■• If the girl in this case is as old as the joke she would find infinitely more comfort in a cushioned chair. This joke has flourished for more than twenty-five years. The onlv change is that the girl, in the original version, gave as the reason for the failure of the young man to get down on his knees that she was sitting on them. The change, however, tloes not make it a new joke. " And again, listen to this : ' Papa,' said little Willie, who was looking at a picture of Atlas, ' nobody could hold the world on their back, could they ?' " ' I don't know about tliat,' answered papa ; I have heard people talk about Wheeling, West Virginia." " Nice little play upon words, you say ; yes, but it was worn out by comedians more than fifteen years ago. Ask any old-time specialty man and he will tell you that I am correct in this statement. " Here's another, more than a quarter of a century old, which is still hobbling around the country in first-clasS- publications : " ■ 1 say, old man, does your wife still call you by the sweet names she used to :' " ' Oh, yes ; that is to say, with some slight variations. Instead of honey, for instance, she now uses the kindred term, old beeswax.' " I must admit that i never before saw this joke in print. It was told to me by my mother before I could read. As she told it, a larmer said to his hired man, • The old woman almost called me honey this morning." 'That so?' queried the hired man. ' Yes," replied the farmer ; 'she called me old beeswax.' •' Here is one from one of the higliest-class publications- of the country, that was deemed worthy of illustratiorv recently : '■ ' What are you doing, Brown ; training for a race ?' " ' No ; racing for a train." " I do not know whether Murray and Mack, the farce- comedy comedians, have discarded this joke or not, but they were making a great hit with it five years ago. " Listen to this one, published in one of the leading papers of the country : " ' Say, do you want to get next to a scheme for mak- ing money fast ?' " ' Sure I do." " ' Then glue it to the floor 1' "This gem is more tlian twenty-five years old. It had its start in a New York paper, the story, as told then^ being to the effect that a sharper was advertising to tell people how to make money fast, for the sum of ten cents. Those who answered the advertisement were advised tO' glue their money to the floor. " A weekly publication of great reputation recently perpetrated the following : " • What did he get three hundred dollars back pen- sion for ?' " • Oh, he was shot in the back." •• It is reasonable to suppose that some bright young man pulled down at least fifty cents for this gem, but it lacks about seventeen years of being new. As originally told, a pension lawyer asked a client who was applying for a pension if he wanted a back pension. ' Certainly, replied the applicant ; ' that is where I was shot.' " Here is still another, handed to us within the past few months : ' And so poor Daggs is dead. I never got a chance to bid him good-bye. The first thing I do when I get to heaven will be to. say how sorry I was.' ■z( " ' But suppose he didn't get to heaven ?' " ' Then you can tell him for me.' " Exceptionally neat, isn't it ? But it lacks many, many years of being new. This witticism was evolved during the well-remembered controversy as to whether Bacon was the author of Sliakespeare's works. As origi- nally told, a woman said to her husband : • When I get to heaven I am going to ask Bacon about it.' 'Suppose he is in the other place,' the husband rejoined. 'Then you can ask him,' was the retort. " Then there is the rough railroad story. It was written by Opie Read, tor the Arkansas Traveler, when the paper was published in Little Rock, but it is sUU going the rounds. The story is to the effect that a passenger who had been jostled and bumped until he was in great dis- tress finally realized that the train was moving along in a highly satisfactory manner. He remarked upon the change to the conductor, and that individual said, ' Yes ; you see we have run off the track.' And yet Andrew Carnegie and George F. Baer are crediteil with telling this story withm the last few months, each laying the scene in a difteient country. " And so it goes, year in and year out. It reminds me of what Mr. Dooley said to Mr. Hinnissy, after getting off an old joke : • 'Tis mine, Hinnissy. Others made it be- fore me, but I made it las'. Th' las' man that makes a joke owns it. That's why me fri'nd Chancy Depoo is such a humorist.' " Concerning the Summer Boarder. IIR you folks reckonin' on takin' boarders this summer, Luke ?" inquired Seth Turniptop of Luke Leatherbottom when the two met, the other Saturday, at the post-office. 1 " Hey — boarders did you say ? Humph ! Wa-al, I should reckon not ! I d'want none of them city folks 'round me ag'in, arter las' summer. If they warn't the peskiest lot o' critters I ever did see ! They cum all chuck full of highfalutin' notions, but I guess they got some of 'em tuk out of 'em 'fore they went back. They bothered ma to death, an' made her that narvous — my ' They wanted a separate spoon fer the sugar-bowl, b'gosh ! Tew high-toned to stick their own spoons in ! Ever hear the like of it ? No ; I reckon not ! Then the table-cloth had to be^ took off right in the middle of the week — turnin' so 's to hev the spots on the under side warn't enougn. Ma mus' hustle it off an' lay a bran' clean one. An' the napkins ! One spot on a napkin made 'em sick, an' that napkin had X.0 go. Sunday cleanin' warn't often enough. What else ? Plenty. They wanted me to give 'em helpin's, 'stead of passin' the platter an' lettin' each feller dish his own mess. Wa-al, I kicked on that, /was there to eat, not to scrape fer other people. An' I didn't put a collar on, neither, week-day meals, tho' one of the boarders— a man, b'gosh ! — was that finicky he hinted to ma to ask me to. I had somethin' else to do besides dressin' an' undressin'. They wouldn't wash in the basin where the res' of us did. Sh 'd say not ! They made liia lug water clean up stairs, fer their private use, by jinks ! An' each room used three or four towels a week ! Poor ma 'bout broke her back washin' things. Sundays they wanted risin' bell at seven, 'stead of live, tho' how a body kin lay a-bed till near noon is more 'n we kin figger. • Durned it some of them people didn't try to eat peas with a fork ! Shelled peas, mind ye ! An' the fool talk, an' the way they thought they knowed everything. But not a one could tell which end of a horse or of a cow riz first from the ground, gittin' up. Wa-al, they 'bout wore out our forks an' feelin's. an' didn't go any tew soon. No more city folks fer us — no, sir ! They're more bother than they're wuth." edwin l. sabin. /^F two evils it is not always possible to choose the least. ^^ Sometimes they are twins. The Late London Fad. (The ladies of London who are in swell society have introduced, as a new fad, the study oJ Plato. — Exchange papt'r,] THE ladies of London are doting on Plato — For, they think, without doubt, it's a delicate way to Uplift the low state of iheir trivial society, And gather a culture of perfect propriety. The gems and the jewels they once could expand on Are not now an fait, and their use they abandon ; To sparkling champagne they no longer give "sippage"; And they've given up all ostentatious equipage. They take off, in fact, every fashionable feather, To revel in things transcendental together. No longer they coo, and call somebody "Dearie," But cogitate simply, consider and query. What though, by their task, they look paler and hectic, Sweet joy they get out of their deep dialectic. With the hope that rare things, far beyond this cold real, May come from their hunt for some lofty ideal. The flight of their minds is, in two senses, Attic, Tlirough balancing thoughts in the mmner Socratic ; One suspects they design with new wisdom to fool men By gaining the art of the subtlest of schoolmen. Perhaps if the late Matthew Arnold were living He would see in this work happy cause for thanksgiving ; And say his " All Hail " for the scheme they have started. And think the Philistine's coarse creed had departed. For, material ends — money, homes, and their progenies — They will loathe — and find better the tub of Diogenes ; Things worldly and crass they '11 have little to say to Since they're dipped in the depths of the magic of Plato. Perhaps, though, we err, with a dullness Teutonic — These -'dears " may seek only the love termed '-Platonic"; And, holding the old ways, one thing to discover. May still be the same to friend, husband, or lover ! JOEL BENTON. n |l«Y DISCOURSE next sabbath," said the erudite preacher, " shall be upon recognition in heaven— a subject which I have studied in Greek, in Latin, in Hebrew, and" — with a gesture impressively casual — 'perhaps in several other languages " J. >f>' V r ) CJ ■i^, ^ •^ . ^ rt cu — . U H-. r. - <> ^3 2 '-« I I uu 2:^ Love and a Motor-car By William J. Lampton HAD loved Mary Moore tor sixteen months and several days, but had never distinctly mentioned the fact of my adoring passion, simply because I was afraid to. Of course I had sent up distress signals at frequent and persistent intervals, but they had been cruelly ignored. Not absolute ignorance, perhaps, but enough to be culpable. If I had been wrecked a court of in- quiry could easily have deter- mined the responsibility. When Mary acquired a motor- car I was pleased because, first, it indicated a prosperous condition of her finances, and, second, it is my nature to rejoice m the pros- perity of others. I am a born altruist. But the machine itself dill not please me. I had dodged too many of its kind on narrow margins to have any feelings of that sort. In addition, I had be- come habituated to street-car transportation. Tiiere were pecuniary reasons for the habit. Nor was I overwhelmed with joy when, later, she asked me to go out with her in the pesky whizzer. A trolley ride would have been more in harmony with my ' taste. . But Mary was an auto enthusiast who had small regard for those who thought the automobile was an in- vention of the devil. It I had not loved her passionately I never would have gone. Perhaps she would not have asked me. But I loved her passionately. Hers was not one of the gigantic gee-whiz whizzers. It was only a, snug little affair accommodating two, and she was her own chauffeuse. Have you ever observed tl\at automobiles are like women — a little one can make just an mucli trouble as a big one ? We had not been out more than half an hour before I was thoroughly embarrassed by my ignorance of motor- cars, and tully realized that I was outclassed. What Mary knew about her car was only exceeded by what I didn't know of any of the breed, and I keenly felt my total inad- eqnacv. I tried to get my mind off of it by referring to the .scenery and mentioning tlie Ijeauiies of nature, but Mary had no thought of anything on earth except her car. We were speeding along a country road at such a rate that I could not distinguish a cat from a cow in a pasture, and was not trying to, being too busy holding myself down on the seat. Mary was exasperatingly composed. 1 was wontlering when we would loop the loop. " Isn't this just too lovely for anything ?"she fairly rev- eled at me. " For one of my, less exa'^gerated capacity I should say it wns quite too,' I managed to reply with some degree of sarcasm, and at the same time grab for my hat, which was loosening from its foundations. '■ You will simply dote on it when you get used to it," she laughed in such si'.very tones that I hated the white metal from Bryan to tlie Bronx. " I hope you are perfectly lamiliar with the manage- ment of the brute," I said as we struck a bump in the road and I almost lost my anchorage. "Have no fear, Harry, dear," she reassured me — thank heaven she hadn't heard me call it a brute ! — ■■ this is not my first trip." For the moment I forgot my auto-nervousness in a cold fear that meant more to my impassioned soul than the entire output of all the automobile factories in the world. " With other men ?" I asked in jealous, tremulous doubt. She laughed almost as one who gives his victim the horrid ha, lia, and watched me as if I were a mouse. But I was no mouse. I was a gieen-eyed monster. " One other, only," she said, cruelly deliberate and painlully exact. I choked down whatever it was rising in my throat. " Who was it ?" I demanded, taking a firmer grip on something or other that felt solid. It was a crucial mo- ment. " The man who taught me how to handle the car," she laughed again, and I relapsed and echoed the laugh hysterically. The crisis had passed. She was very kind not to play football with my throbbing heart, as she might have done. I should have thanked her tor that, but the reaction drove the smaller amenities from my mind, and The car began spluttering, wheezed a time or two, staggered and stopped on the highway. " What is it ?" I asked spasmodically, returning to earth as she quickly jumped out to investigate. " Oh, nothing much," she answered carelessly, reach- ing under the wagon-bed alter something or otiier that had gone wrong. "Can I be of any service ?" 1 inquired, preparing to join her. " What do you know about the mechanism of a motor ?" she responded in a tone which indicated that the question was less an inquiry for information than it was a veiled allusion to the fact that there was no information to be had. I instinctively realized that my duty was to maintain an entirely neutral position with discreet silence, and I am a slave to duty. I didn't fo much as look her way. Pres- ently she resumed her place at the tiller and we went for- ward again. There were grease Spois on her gloves and a smut on her nose. I did not refer to these things. S/tg could see the grease on her gloves and /could see the smut on her nose, so why call attention to the obvious ? " You know," she explained clearly and concisely, but with an air of superiority wliich I hardly thought neces- sary, ahhough it might have been, " that this is a chain- driven machine, with roller chains and sprockets, in con- tradistinction to the direct-driven by longitudinal shaft and bevel gear to the rear axle, and a stone got into the sprocket." '• Oh, yes," I assented brightly, under a forced gleam of intelligence. " Oh, yes ; did that stop it ?" There was more pity than reproof in the glance ^he bestowed upon me, and I most devoutly wished that I was in town riding in a plain street-car which didn't have sprockets, or bevel gears, or other mysterious insides that were not responsible for their actions. At the same time, if I had not loved her so I should have laughed at that ridiculous smut on her nose. It was in such grotesque contrast with her superior manner. " Really, Harry," she said solicitously, when we had jgot going again, as if nothing hail happened, " you ought to know something about the mechanism of an automo- bile. It is awfully simple, and I learned all about it in three or four days. Surely, if a woman can learn machin- ery that easy, a man ought to be able to master it much inore readily. " Wliich might have been a compliment to my sex, or a va- grant thrust at me, but I was thinking about something else. "Teach me," I implored her, not so much because I wanted to learn about the confounded thing, as that she wanted me to learn. I should have willingly taken a course in burglary and safe-cracking if she had asked me. She smiled radiantly. "Iknewyou would want to know more about it," she exulted, as if she had already drawn me from the moss-back notions of an age of str»et-cars. " I do — I do," I urged, thirsting for knowledge — from this particular source. " Don't you know even the least little bit ?" she asked in her tantalizing fashion. " Nothing about carburetors, nor induction gears, nor spark plugs, nor jump sparks, nor primary sparks, nor any of those ?" Possibly there might have been some slight accent on that word "sparks," but far be it from me to intimate such a thing. " As I hope for heaven, I do not," I answered, helpless as clay in the potter's hanils. She went into such a fit of laughter over my undis- guised solemnity that she let go of the pilot-wheel, the machine skiddooed, or whatever they call it when it be- gins to prance and cavort and cut figure 8s, and I came near tumbling into the road. Mary was quick enough to catch the wheel on the rebound, and, with a twist or two, she brought the crazy vehicle to its proper senses and got it straight on its course again. I was disturbed in mind and body. " That was very nearly a spill for you, wasn't it ?" she laughed, as though it were a laughing matter. " Does it do that way often .■■" 1 inquired, struggling to regain my composure and my place on the seat. "Only when people make the driver laugh, so the steering-wheel is neglected," she replied, as if I were to blame. " What were you laughing at ?" I demanded, innocently ignorant of anything amusing having occurred. " You." If theie is one thing more than another which I aoom- inate it is to be laughed at. I always feel a ceitain degree of sympatliy for jokes. Good jokes, I mean, which aie laughed at. " Well," I saiti, with some asperity, " I may be funny, but I don't feel funny." She laughed again. " But you are funny, and " Somethin.; underneath us began to kick and splutter an! wheeze, and the car came to a standstill. Her an- noying laughter did the same. " .Another sprocket dropped a cog ?" I inquired, rather sarcastically, I fear, because I felt that she had sand- papered my sensibilities too rudely, and I forgot my Chris- tian spirit of humility. She resented my inopportune inquiry by deigning no reply, but hopped out confidently and began tinkering under the car. I proffered my services as before, but they were declined snippily and in silence. I retained my seat. It was so much easier to do so than when the car was moving, that it was a positive relief She was busy for some time with the machinery, and I was busy with my wordless thoughts. She emerged at last, with her hat on crooked. It was a bad sign, but I made no comment. I have moments of prudence that are almost wisdom. When we were going again she kept her eyes on the road. Her gloves looked like a map of grease. She must have rubbed her nose on them, for the smut was nearly oblit- erated. Did you ever notice a machinist's nose? It seems to be the only portion of his anatomy which is in touch with his grimy hands. Mary was a machinist. She had toUl me so. " What was the matter, really ?" I asked, so evidently anxious to learn that she looked my way and a kindlier light brightened her face. " I think something is wrong with the carburetor," she replied, but not with her former confidence. Indeed, i could detect unmistakable doubt. "Don't you know?" I plumped the interrogation di- rectly at her. " Oil, yes ; I know for all ordinary purposes," she said, with a brave attempt to recover ; " but I shall have the man at the garage look at it when we get back." It was an evidence of weakness 1 was glad to hear. A man is never at his best with a strong and self-reliant woman. But I was not urgent in Mary's necessity. I began to appreciate the automobile as my friend. I was willing that it should heap coals of fire on my head as soon as it was ready to do so. My spirits rose as Mary's remained stationary. We were going ahead once more, bu, not with the oily smoothness which makes perfect autoing a dream of motion, as Mary had explained before she tried it on me. There was distress in the iron-works somewhere ; for the machinery would gulp at intervals, as though choking, while other sounds would issue forth which I, inexpert as 1 was, knew were symptomatic of functional derangement. At a cross-roads Mary veered to the left and struck out on a new way. This divergence was made without con- sulting me. ( " I know this road," I ventured with chivalrous polite- i.-r ness. " It's bad all through, and, if you will take my ad- vice, you will continue where you were." " It is a short cut home," was all the explanation she vouchsafed. " Ari: you in such a hurry ' get home ?" I gently pleaded, forgetting the tribulatioirs of the machine in this new difficulty which she had so unexpectedly thrust into the situation. " No ; but I'm afraid something is wrong with the car, and I prefer to get it back to the garage." "What's the difference.'''' I cried heroically. "You know all about it and can fix it. I'm willing to trust you." " Thank you very much," she said, h.ilf way between sweetness ana sarcasm. " But it is such greasy work to get into the machinery, and I'd rather some one else did it." " I'll do all the rough work," I insisted, " and you can do the part calling for skill. Let's don't go home," I begged. " It is so beautiful here in the quiet country, and I have something to say to you, Maiy." She smiled. It was not the first time I liad had some- thing to say to her and had not said it. Possiblv she thought she would have to wait out there indefinitely. She made no effort to change her course. I was becoming desperate. I didn't want to go home. Home might have charms for her because she had one. I hadn't. I lived in a flat. Then the car stopped ; this time with a wheeze of de- spair and a chug that was ominous. We had got half way up a steep bit of hill and the car not only relused to proceed, but started back the other way. I didn't know what to do, and would have hesitated to do it, even if I had known. Mary was running the machine. "Jump out and chock it," she commanded, as she thrust her dainty little foot hard down on the brake, which failed to respond properly. 1 knew enough about the law ot physics controlling automobiles to chock one backing down a hill when I was told to do so, and I flatter myself that I did it as well as an expert could have done. I felt proud of myself when I had chocked it to a dead stop, and I backed off a lew steps to survey the entourage. I never saw Mary looking pret- tier, and I thought her car was a beauty. Love is blind. " I've done all I can do," I reported quite clieerfuUy ; " and you will have to do the rest." " I suppose so," she replied, as if she firmly believed I might as well be at home sewing doll-rags. She got out rather reluctantly and with small show of confidence in the result of the work before her. What she did when she went under the wagon I don't know, but within a minute or two she was out again, and there was that look in her eyes which those have who go forth on hopeless undertakings. " Well ?" I said, and waited for her to report on iier findings. " I — I," she hesitated pitifully, " I don't know what is the matter. I guess the spark-plug must have come out of the carburetor, or — or something." " What kind of a looking plug was it ?" I asked, sym- pathetic and solicitous. " Give me a description and I'll go back and see if I can find it. It must be in the road somewhere. There wasn't enough pressure on the carbu- wretched, or whatever you call it, to blow it over the fence, was there ?" Her lip trembled and there was positive distress in her manner. Never had she been so attractive. I wanted to hug the automobile. " How far are we from liome ?" she asked, as a child might. I began to feel bully. I wasn't such a mut after all. I didn't know motor-cars, maybe, but I knew the country we were in. " Oh, about a dozen miles or so," I told her, with a confidence that was almost insolent. " You ought to make the distance back in an hour, even over this road,- when you get the machine into running order." " But, Harry," and she drew a step nearer to me, " f can't put it in order. I don't know how." "Gee," I exclaimed, and whistled the remainder of the bar, crescendo; She came over a little nearer — nearer to me than to her beloved car, helpless now in the road. My star was- rising. But I could never forget the car for the lift it had' given. " What shall we do ?" she asked in a shaky, scared voice. " I can walk to town and send another machine out for you," I suggested with unfeeling practicality. " And leave me here all alone ?" she sliivered. " Oh, you won't be alone," I laughed, like a hyena. "You'll have your car; I guess it won't go away and leave you." " You are horrid and cruel ; that's what you are,' she half cried. "And you are thoughtless and selfish," I retorted. " You should have known what this confounded Juggernaut would do in the open air, and thought of others before bringing me away out here in the woods to strand me like this. You might as well kill people with the blamed thing as to scare them to death." She was very unhappy and I gloated over her. " For- give me, Harry," she pleaded, coming so close that she laid her hand on my arm. " Forgive me, and I'll never do so again." " But I want to come again," I blurted out in haste^ forgetting the villain's part I was playing. She laughed then, and I laughed, and we sat dowrt together on a log by the roadside to consider ways and means of relief in our sore extremity. " I can fix it so it will go all right," I asserted, after I had teased her for some time to my infinite delight and her great discomfiture. " How ?" she inquired, betraying incipient appreciation of my hitherto despised capabilities. " By applying a plug, different somewhat from the lost one, to the running-gear instead of the carburetor," I replied, assuming such a technical tone that I was sure I should convince her ot masculine superiority in me- chanics. I was not mistaken. " And you knew all the time how ?" she blazed a' me so suddenly that I could not have bounced off of that log quicker if a lizard had run up my back. " And you let tne worry and work over it trying to fix it myself?" she added, rising from the log and facing me. I bowed in affirmation. Words would have been fuel to the flames and we were ten miles from a fire-engine. She patted her foot on the ground with an ill-suppressed fierceness that would have frightened me into spasms under ordinary circumstances. Shte had actually lost her temper. But she should not be judged too harshly. The real value of a woman's temper is not appreciated until it is lost. "Will you Qc Kind enough to procure the plug, Mr. Denton ?" she said with a frigidity of manner calculated to freeze me beyond the possibility of any future warmth to thaw. I was ashamed of myself for the imposition I was play- ing upon her, but the end should justify the means. " You will have to wait here ten minutes," I replied as ■stiffly as if the congelation had occurred, " until I go to a place down the road a bit where they keep such things. You are not afraid to wait alone for ten minutes, are you ?" I added, with a Samaritan solicitude which should have brought tears of gratitude to her eyes, but it did not. " 1 am not afraid at all," she said, tossing her head de- fiantly at every power of evil. A'nd only so shortly before she had been palsied by pale fear at the mere thought of 'being left alone there in the grewsome silence of the voiceless fields, the dumb and devious road, the w-ild, weird woods. Oh, Mary ! I bowed again and slowly retired. Ten or a dozen iminutes later, because I hurried when she couldn't see me, I came back on a rather rickety but reliable farm horse. He was collared and traced for service, and I had a rope to attach him to the erstwhile horseless vehicle which had brought us to this humiliating strait. She stared at us as we approached, but she was too greatly overcome to speak. I pulled up before her. "I have procured the plug," I said with calm confi- dence in the potentiality which I straddled. I may have felt the victor's emotions of triumph struggling within my Ijosom, but I made no sign. " Attach it to the running-gear," she responded, a great light dawning upon her — a glory envelopmg her and the plug and me. It touched with its inspiring radi- ance even the mute inglorious motor-car, standing cold and still in the middle of the road. She looked up at me and laughed ; laughed as though it were tonic to her atrophied spirits. " Harrv, dear," she cried in a voice of happy hope and promise, " you are a jewel." " For you to wear always, Mary ?" I murmured 'twixt joy and fear, and tumbled incontinently off of the old plug, which was the very foundation of our deliverance. Mary held out her hands to me and — however, that is an en- tirely different matter. Ours was not much of a pageant to look at as we wended our way homeward, with me now as chauffeur, but what did we care ? We were so buoyantly happy that we weren't any load at all, and Mary's motor-car had a plug attached to its running-gear which for sparking purposes made inductions and differentials and bevels and carburetors no more than a bunch of sounding brass-works and tinkling cymbals. Selah ! His Other Half IKE was an able-bodied, valuable negro. His master regarded him as his best hand. Ike also set a high value on himself. He was ambi- tious, as well as industrious, and desired to be his own owner. Therefore he made his master an offer to become his own purchaser. On all regulated plantations before the war negroes had allotted lands or tasks whereon or whereby they could earn money for themselves, the master and mistress usually buying from them any products of their industry offered for sale. The master put a fair price upon Ike — the negro's pride would have been deeply hurt had the price been too low — and Ike began paying for himself on the installment plan. All went very well till Ike had gotten his price half paid. Whatever happened, Ike had always ready this self- ^ratulatory assertion, " Um-hum, I half-free anyhow. Um-hum." On a holiday for Ike he had hired himself out for driver ifor bringing home a drove of newly-purchased cattle to a .neighboring plantation. It was high-water time, the sea- son of fierce spring freshets and dangerous swollen sloughs. Ike got nearly drowned in the big swamp. His resuscitation seemed almost a miracle, so nearly had he gone over the Great River. Next day he came to his master antl stood before him, fingering his wool hat, when the following dialogue ensued, " What is it, Ike ?" " Master, 1 sho' liketer been drownded yistiddy !" •' You surely were nearly gone, Ike. We had a time bringing you to." " Yas, massa ; thanky massa. I sho' thought I was gone. Massa, I come ax you fer ter buy back fum me my y'o'her half." " Buy the half you have paid me for ? Want to go back to lifelong slavery ? Why ?" " Massa, ownin' niggers is too good a way to los' money. I liketer los' all dat five hund'ard dollahs worf o( my half er me yistiddy by jes drowndin'. Nigger prop- e'rty 's too resky fo' me. Gimme back dat five hund'ard dollahs. please, sah, an' yo' take de resk er ownin" dis niffSfer." martha young. i7 ^2 > H H ;3 > H O > n o 3 z H in ^ IN THE MUSEUM. " So the living skeleton wanted to marry the fat lad3'?" " Yes ; but the manager kicked — said it was a well-known fact that married peciple grew to look like one another." A Songless Song. I JPON the waving birk *-• The turk Is dreaming ot his doom ; His wattles to and fro, Aglow, Incarnadine the gloom. As second joints and wings Are things For which he knows we long. He with his drumsticks drums And hums — He is a songless song ; A songless song to fill And thrill Our souls with verve and vim, Until we see him puffed And stuffed With chestnuts to the brim. The Useful Capitals. /^ADMUS sat down one day and invented the alphabet. After several hours of painstaking toil he had designed all the small letters. " They are very pretty," he said. " I like their curves and curls, and no doubt they will be of inestimable benefit to the people." Musing for a moment, he continued, " I won- der, though, if these letters will be sufficient to supply all the needs of the future. Ah, I had forgotten the writers of fables." Whereat he turned to and in- vented the capital letters. Otherwise we might never have had any instructive morals in our daily reading. An Unpardonable Fault. Mr. Rounder — " Why did you ever let Makeup go .' He was a thoroughly reliable man." Mr. Bounder (newspaper own- er) — " Reliable ? Yes, but careless. He printed my best editorial on the Venezuela question on the tax-sales supplement and signed it 'Old Sub- scriber.' Reliable .' Humph !" The Quarrel. (( UOW did it happen ?" ■ I "Well, she insisted on go- ing to the club and he threatened to go home tg his father." ANENT A PERSONAL FRIEND. ' But she 's so homely !" ' Well, that 's her privilege, I suppose " ■ Yes, I know ; but some persons abuse their irivileges so !" 7 Millie's Boat. WINKLING ill the breezes, Twinkling on tlie brine, Bobs that frail and dainty Little boat of mine. O'er the waves she scampers, Rocking all the while. And she '11 soon be weary- Sailing mile on mile. But she will be happy When the night is here, For then with my playthings, Bright and ever dear, I will lay her gently. And to dreams she'll dart With the pasteboard camel And the yellow cart. Her Little Error. H IS SHE gentle .''" asked the city chap, who thought he ' wanted to buy a steed. "Gentle ?" ejaculated the country chap, \<-ho had one to sell. " Why, she's as gentle as a suckin' dove. Hain't got a fault or failin' in the world — nussir. She don't kick, or strike, or bite " At that instant the equine paragon swung her head viciously around and snapped off a piece of the rural rob- ber's southwest ear. " That is, not with the deliberate intention of doin' any harm. The mare is sorter absent-minded at times, an' I kinder guess she must 'a' mistook my ear fer a cabbage- leaf." Safer, Perhaps. (( DELLINGHAM'S religion is. like his property," said Trivvet to Dicer. " How's that .'" •' It's all in his wife's name." He Was Hardened. f\NCF. there lived a man who went out west to hunt squirrels and birds. On a lonely road he was captured by a band of Indians, who said they composed the west- ern branch of the society for the prevention of cruelty to the feathered tribe, and as he had brought no whiskey with him with which to square himself they decided to punish him. Accordingly they put him between two freight-cars and crushed him twenty minutes. But the man still lived. Then they threw him down and danced fandangoes all over him. But the man rose happier than ever. Then they put him under a pile driver, pummeled him and knocked him around like a medicine-ball. But the man was as lively as ever and beg- ged for more. He said it made him only a lit- tle homesick. Then it suddenly came to the red men that perhaps this individual was possessed of the devil, and they knelt down and worshiped him. Then they hurried off, and as the liberated man walked away he mumbled, " Had they known I w-as a Brooklynite and had crossed the Brooklyn bridge every night at six o'clock for ten years it would have saved them a great deal of humiliation." Moral — Before tackling a man have him looked up by some mercantile agency. f. i-. pitzer. After the Convention. A YE.'VR ago they sought me out *• To learn my views on this and that; They asked me what I thought about High tariff, also standing pat. • • My silence only urged them on ; Bewilderedly to me they turned — But all my high estate is gone Since they've adjourned. A month ago they said of me (Although I firmly shook my head), *'He is a possibility," And paid no heed to what I said ; For I — I was so dignified And hinted that high place I spurned. Well, now I walk — I used to ride — Since they've adjourned. A week ago 'most all the bands Were playing in my neighborhood. And I was always shaking hands And telling folks tiiey were too g ■ > t U "tJ S ■; 55 ! I I Human Nature. THE Esquimau desires things hot — ' He seeks the land of Hottentot. The Hottentot oft yearns for snow — He searches for the Esquimau. Thus you and I forever go, Like Hottentot and Esquimau, In search of cither cold or hot. Like Esquimau or Hottentot. Lackaday, Ladies ! Cobwigger — " Did the women's clubs have a harmonious convention ?" Merritt — "No. The only time thev got together was when they were having their picture taken." His Quandary. Druggist — " What is it, sir ?" Mr. Chiney — " I really don't know ; I'm in a quandary. The moths have almost ruined my wig, and I don't know whether to get moth-balls or hair-restorer." Freddie — "Say, dad, why did those fel- lows in the tally-ho toot the liorn ?" Cobwigger — " I guess they were trying to revive memories of the time when llieir ancestors peddled fisii." APPROPRIATE. Uncle Hank — " Yessir ; when I git enough material collected I'm goin' ter build a house thet'Il be a regular monument to me an' my ancestors." Niece — ■' What kind of a house will it be. uncle?" Uncle Hank — " It'll be a brick house — a gold-brick house." OBVIOUSLY BENEFICIAL. Visitor — " I trust )-ou will profit by this experience." Footpad Pete — " Siu-e ! De next time I won't tackle such a big feller.' Her Surprise. IT was the first pair of bed-socks that Beth had ever seen. " Goodness !" she ex- claimed, surprised ; " I wouldn't w-ant to wear soft-shelled shoes." A Faint-hearted Pirate. Tommy Tuff — " Say, fellers ! this kid 's no good. He won't play pirate 'cause his mudder '11 give him a lickin' fer gittin' his collar dirty." Hot and Cold. AN experienced Chica- go woman says that a fine example of hot and cold may be found in the case of a lover who be- comes a husband. Acme of Bliss. Pat — "An' phat would yez do if yez wor rich ?" Mike — " Oi'd hov wan av ihim autymobiles thot blows a whistle ivery block." Wholesale Mining. tir'OLD is often found in the gizzards of birds shot in the Klondike," ob- served the man who reads the interesting notes in the papers. "Yes," said the other man ; " and if I were seeking gold I believe I would rather train some of those birds than hire min- ers." •■ Why r "Because the miner gets the gold in quartz, but the bird finds it by pecks." Marked Down. THE marked-down habit was strong in her. She had been telling her husband that her dearest woman friend had made her feel so cheap. "Like thirty cents ?" he queried. "Liketwenty-nine," she replied. Her Pipe Went Out. (( l-IE conies so often to call upon me, "she mused, "that I can draw but one inference. Where there is so much smoke there must be some fire. Two weeks later she was abashed to learn that he was go- ing to marry another girl. Then she re- called, bitterly, her musings. "The smoke I saw," she reflected, " must have been that from a pipe-dream." Slang is sometimes a balm to a broken heart. Gossip. (( SHOWING HER ANCESTORS. iA ADE their mon- ey recently ?" " Yes. Her father was a promoter. It is rumored that they are going to adopt as a coat-of-arms a water- ing-pot rampant." TOO MUCH TONNAGE. First elephant — " VVliat a sliame lliey wouldn't allow us to sit in the grand-stand ! Second elephant — " Well, tuey had weighly reasons for it." W^\ E U o A US l-< ' -c OH, HORRORS! A certain young person of Bray Was so very homely, they say. Every cluck she looked at Not only stood pat, But prompily went round the wrong way. One Girl's Sacrifice. Madge — " How does she come to give up so many things during Lent ?" Marjoric — "She realizes it It the only way she can save enough money to buy an Easter bonnet." Expressing an Opinion. (( IVO^^'. gentle- men," says the irate individual to the iceman, the plumber, and the coal man, " I wish to voice my opin- ion of you while I have you all three together. I do not wonder at your roobingme. What forces me to stand aghast is your con- summate nerve in dispensing with the conveniij - mask during the operation. Are you so utterly lost to the proprieties?" With a forced laugh, they turn away. i:'''.^H^^^ THOUGH there's no love's I equital. They're wed in a trice ; Foi he has the title. While she has the price. WELL PICKED. '• They picked me down at the club to win the feather-weight championship to-night." " So I see. .\nd the \ did an excellent job. " His Bright Idea. /^HEOPS was building the pyramid. " That was a bright idea of my own," he ex- plained. " I was bound to put some laundry-marks on a thing they couldn't mangle." With a rueful glance at his cuffs, he felt he had outwitted his mortal foe. CAUSE .AND EFFECT. " Musici.ins have such long hair !" " Yes ; it's the listeners who get bald.' I f^ ■< s: — f^ n O ^ n c c Oi rr •-( 1 n P H P rr O- (-) p n N r^ i; =! a 5- o "■ : •i E i-J O C o ft l^ o ■ c ^ o ^ ^'^■A !Z 3 t/i' 5' 2- crq o c n c D o '-s,/ -n I w ^ n &J m p_ ( ) o o -1 n "1 re o 3 D M 2 ^ H m n ^ > ^" r o __. r l/i x: > u p- P- -- ffi > H c c %- <; tj) ^ rr p 3 ft H T ^'' o' ^ > TO Tl 0- P 3 crq 3 ^ &- rr „ c o fi: «. ■^• orq > p. fT > p H irq U) j^ ■-s D Cl- cr; r\) p- ■^ r. 3* i rti »— < 3 w ^ CO 3 5 3 !t p EI 3 3* C 3 5' E n P ■-1 P o ?r 5. P cL p 3 P W3 P a. CO* o • 3 p rt 5" 2l, o 3 ■a 5' "' n 5' S o 3 i 2 rw >=• o D R ?3 Z > H I C/) n O o r a. IT) a. p. c p c P-. C C r c t" WHAT'S IX A NAME? MiiKGENSTERX — " Good-evening, Rosenstcin. I see you've got yoiir new cloth ing-ftictory started — the Rebecca Suit Company, you call it. Wliy did you name it after a wuman ?" ROSENSTEIN — " For luck. It's the name of an old flame of mine." Worse Yet. v^^^HlY dear," said Mr. Penheck timidly, pausing in his ■ W ■ occupation of dusting the chandelier, " did you ■ A k ■ mail those letters I asked you to post for me ? " i^^H I " Of course I did," answered Mrs. Penheck, ' deep in her perusal of the evening paper. " It is strange," commented Mr. Penheck, with a touch of doubt in his tone, " that I haven't received any answers yet. One of the letters was to Brother AVilliam, and " " Maybe somebody forgot to mail the answers," inter- rupted Mrs. Penheck. " Don't alw.ays be hinting that I am the only woman on earth who forgets to mail letters." " I am not hinting, mv angel," faltered IMr. Penheck as he started toward the kitchen; "but I certainly think it strange " " Now just wait," ordered Mrs. Penheck, dropping her paper. '• Let's get this all straightened out right now. 1 O a > r > c o B-y, H o crq ■< =r 5r ^ o o — to o crq -a 3 n o 3- ■n o — ju S 3 ft ju S ctq' n 3 crq w oq C t- t- ta. fc. r> ^ ^ if, S •S S ^ S — ^ to O- V, E" ^ ^ tr, ,^ ^ ^ S ^i s oq [u S. O ? S2. P 3- re o ? "a. § i. "~ 3 £. " 3 re c s; m .— ^ < v; 3- S «. o p » ^ 3- C ^ ra "■ ^ ST ^ 3 1:3 trf S^ w ^ n. . n ■\ a. O 3 ts> ^^. 3 3: r^ 3" ^ n m n - 3 q^ 3- C/) re >< "• re •1 re > ~. a. C/l c: crq D. 2 ST c •T3 p 9 5' crq 3 5 r=: ro fti n rr O) 5' = re re H n i y *^ ; 3 ■1 r m pj u 3 ' T3 3 •<; •< re S- s rj 3 < 3 3 > H With ley're p id quite X -. e 3' ^ thes •agon; ncapa tra of ble H ght an everyt of wro p 3 a. 3 :z j^ ►4 3 =- p. "? £■ 3 3' < arro gth -be p ?1 c P 5. 5 S; D pat 'sb use p 3- p < ^ / ^ 3 £.'-^ V V frisk and mad ^ n "> — 3 n^- ?--g :,>l M' Pure Pessimism. JOMEN go tu cuuking-clubs And always liire a cook ; People go to reading-clubs And never buy a book ; Women go to sewing-clubs And never make a seam ; People join the writing-clubs And never spoil a ream. People go to golfing-clubs And never find the tee ; People lead in boating-clubs Who never see the sea ; People join athletic clubs. And still their strength is weak ; People in debating-clubs Are seldom known to speak. People in amusement clubs Declare this life a bore ; Those in peace-procuring clubs Are always out for gore ; Those who fill the singing-clubs Are destitute of song — That's the look of all the clubs To one who can't belong. Who had the mon, Died to-day at one. A neighbor's son Shot Ciunn With a shot-gtm. lie leaves one Son. Now even.' one Asks every one, '■ Shall we call this son. This Gunn's son, This son ol a Gimn, The heir Gimn ?" Correct Time. Fat — " An' whoy do yez carry two watches ?'" Mike '• Faith, Oinade wan to see how shlow th"' other wan is." IN THE ROUGH. " 5!.^ T'^J °* y°" *° ^""^ '''"' "^'* ^ K"^ ^« if he is a rough diamond." " That s the reason he need? cutting." ^1 Uncle Hiram 'with a sigh of r,!!ief) wuz after me." MIGHT HAVE BEEN WORSE. Wa-al. this is what I call luck. «pl Not Definite. ILEASE print in- structions for smoking sausage," wrote the constan' reader to the " an- swers-for-the-anxious " editor. '■Which — the long or the fine cut?" he w rote beneath the query. Thought sure 'Mandy IJ.4YNE had just writ- ten " Home, sweet home." " Yes," he admitted proudly; "I don't think it is bad. I got my inspiration while I was watching Kelly slide for it." Eagerly he scanned the score to see if the home team had won. Don't Rush the Season. {Rc-member '"Punch's" adz'ice,) |E.\RD a robin on the limb — Took my flannels off to him. Saw a bluejay on the wing — Pitched goloshes with a fling. H^ Saw a fish-worm on the lawn — Winter coat went into pawn. On the fence an old tomcnt — Out of sight my old cloth hat. Saw the merry kids at play — Bought a light top-coat that day. Hurdy-gurdy struck toy ear — Then 1 said, "I know it s here."* That night came a snow and sleet — Ergo, cold and clammy feet. u=r Backache, earache, nosea-whiz — Laid up now with rheumatiz. * The spring-fever. A FELLER took a pig to sea an" give him th' best room in th' first cabin. He fed him on prime beefsteak; he dressed him in th' finest clo'es; he put money in liis pocket. " Ain't you happy ?" he says to th' pig. " No, " says the pig ; " not by a long shot !" says th' pig. " There ain't no mud aooard to waller in, an' what I like to eat is swill." Mr. Jones— Mks. JoNES- dicitis can wait," SETTLED. ' I think I'm going to have appendicitis." '■ Oh. you do? Well, I think I'm going to have a new hat, and your appen- Advertisements in the " Hourly Digest " for 1925. OST — A splendid opportunity to rise by a young man who did not take our cor- respondence course in " air-ship navi- gation." Address Findem & Fal^em. Female help wanted — A cook ; no questions asked about place just left. We have no children, no hobbies, and can furnish recommendations from former cooks. Cook can have every ot'ier afternoon off, and the remaining afternoons can entertain in the parlor. Call on Mrs. Long Sufftrmg. To let — A corner room in the Smoke-stack building on the forty-second floor. Room has four window fire-escapes, six chemical extinguishers, three parachutes, and an asbestos air-ship. Call at building after non-union hours — three p. m. v^ ' L Captain Crumb — '• The kind of bait I uses. Cap'n Blunt, depends on wot I fish fer." '■■ TRUE. "Do you know, Cholly, I could just die yachting." "Yes? I feel hke giving up everything for it." The Classical Bee-keeper. lifE venture to complain to the bee-keeper of the quality of tlie honey he has sent us. "We don't believe the stuff is pure," we declare. " It seems to us that it has been adulterated." " ' Honey soit qui mal y pense," " he quotes dignifiedly. Awed somewhat by the sonorous quality of- his speech we retreat in semi-confusion. For sale — An original and polished monkey. Can be used at dinners. The owner is going to retire from society and write a society novel. Mrs. Will Gadabout. He Stopped. <( IVJOW, there was Jones. He was one oi your methodical men — always boast- ed that his business ran like clockwork." "What of it ?" " Well, that was what there was of it. He thought he could lose all the time he wished and the business would run on just the same. The result was he had several strikes when he wasn't looking for them, and finally his creditors wound him up." " What became of him ?" "Saw him yesterday. He's as set in his ways as ever." Captain Bujnt — "What in the wide seas are ye fishin' fer now, Cap'n Crumb?" ;■ THE WRONG KIND. ■^•^ o CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK. An Old Salt's Observations. I YELLER journalist crossed with me. " ^Yhat do you use such tarnation big head-lines fei .''" I asked of him. " What do you use such surprisin' ' ' big sails far ?" he asked of me. " To make th' ship go," I says. " Same with me," says he. I knew a farmer whose crops was a-sufferin' from drought to git down on his marrow-bones an' thank God when a shower come on. His daughter was at the county fair that day. She come home a-cryin' 'cause th' rain had spi'led her new hat. A ship's caulker, gittin' a dol- lar an' a half a day, might, by doin' bad work with his hammer an' his oakum, be responsible fer the loss of a ship worth five hun- dred thousand dollars an' carryin' a hundred an' forty-eight passen- gers, besides th' crew an' fo'c's'le cat. A brook-trout kicked because th' pool he lived in was too small. I took him an' put him in th' ocean. " There," says I ; " I reckon that '11 be big enough fer you. How do you like it .'" " Lands sake I" says the brook-trout. " It's salt, ain't it ? Take me back home, please, captain." I dropped a ten - dollar gold piece overboard once, an' it sunk like a shot. Very same day I dropped an empty tomato-can into th' boundin' ocean — an' I bet it's floatin' yet. That's th' way with men. I've seen solid merit that seerried to be too heavy to stay at the top. A sailor was cast on a desert island with sixteen hunderd an' four dollars in gold coin, an' jest exactly two hunderd an' seventy- six thousan' dollars in one-thou- sand-dollar bills. He also had a gun an' quite a lot of powder, but he didn't have no shot, an' he was shy of waddin'. He cut th' coin up into slugs fer shot an' used th' bills fer wads. Then he shot a bird fer supper. It was a very nice, fat bird, an' tasted mighty good. " Beats all what money '11 do !" says he. I knew a farmer that had th' reputation of bein' awful careful. He'd spend six weeks considerin' 'fore he'd buy a cow. My ! how careful he would be examinin' that cow's meat an' milk an' dis- • position ! But he married a girl he'd only known two weeks, an' then said marriage was a failure 'cause she couldn't make good butter. Far Ahead of His Time. r\E,\IOSTHENES was practicing with pebbles in his mouth. " How foolish !" said his wife. Russian yet." Perceiving his wasted efforts, his attempt. " Nobody is speaking he at once abandoned Lady [ivho is posing and rather tired) — '• Oh, my dear Mr. Dcolan, haven't you yet got it all right for taking me?" Mr. Doolan (amateur photographer) — " My dear lady, it'll be fine? You're just in the very attitude. Come round, now, and see for yourself." J t "o " m Ferd Sclofferinsky's Confession UPON the fiddle all the day. And sometimes a'l llie night, I with my finest vigor play, And quickly put to flight The grim mosquitoes as they file The air in manner gay About my little domicile In Morristown, Is'. J. I'm worth my weight in gold because I make the skeeter scoot, And more than spike his hungry jaws And beat the burning boot In swiftly knocking him awry ; And so I shout ' ' Hooray ! No skeeter 's fiddle-proof when I A fugue from Wagner play." lUDGIN li from what they have to show for it, some people's time must be counterfeit monev. An iayl of the Street. T was in Broad- way at the cab- stand by Gree- ley square. A foolish questioner, who belonged to the great ag- gregation of the blind to the obvious, came by. She paused and ap- proaclied a cabman on his box. " Are you the driver of the cab ?" she asked. The cabman was cyn- ical, as cabmen grow to be in their profession. •■ No, ma'am," he re- sponded, with a dipping motion of his bent inde.x- finger toward the animal in the shafts. " That's thedriver; I'm the horse." Only a seasoned cab- man could have done it as he did, and tlie lady, with an indignant sniff, woke up. Tactics. Cora — " She didn't tell him that she has been engaged before ?" Dora — "Oh, no. She's keeping that quiet for strategic reasons." A CASE OF JAM. ■• \ ou say you are crying because you jammed your finger, little bov ?" •■ V-yetli, thir ; I put my finger in the jam an' m- miither caught me doing it." THE REMEDY. Dr. Mo.nk — ■ H'm ! No appetite— can't eat a thing, eh ? Diet on tacks and small nails and take a magnet befnre eacl> meal." GOLF DIALECT. His wife — " Sir, you are intoxicated ; your speech betrays you !" Mr. Hibaul — " Madam, 'ahmshamed of your (hie) ignorance ; you're 'way behind timsh — don't you know golf dialect when you (hie) h-h-hear it ? ' From the Spanist [rgaiURING a review I PJ of his soldiers the commandingoffi- cer, observing that he could not see the shirt of one of the soldiers, approached him, unbut- toned his coat and dis- covered that he wore none. " How is this, you dirty fellow," he ex- claimed; " where 's your shirt ?" " Ah, captain," re- plied the soldier, " I sold it to buy some soap with which to wash it, for it was sadly in need of it."" IF YOU want a neigh- bor — be one. D An Eye for Business. DON'T want to do any advertis- ing," growls the merchant when the so- licitor approaches him. " But I am sure you will soon see the advan- tage of having your name and firm men- tioned in our paper," argues the solicitor. " Let me show you our last circulation state- ment, and " "Now, look here, young man ! Can't you take no for an answer ? First thing you know I'll lose my temper, and " " If you do, sir," sug- gests the courteous so- licitor, " try our lost- and-found column. You're sure to get quick results." XN I ^'^ II U£ has a wife in ev'ry port," says they. "No wonder, then, he stays to sea," says I. \ HORRIBLE TORTURE. First burglar—-' We had ter torture de old gent ter make him give up his dough.' Second burglar—" Burn him ?" First burglar — -No ; me partner played Wagner on de pianner." o ^5 't4 ■ctJ S " TO ^ ^t3 4J -i::j 32 < V U m He'd Heard About Them. illTTING before his straw bungalow was Mustafa Dhrinke, king of Cana- bilia-on-tlie-bog. H i s slaves stood like a min- strel troupe in a semi- circle about him, salaam- ing so low that they burned their foreheads on the hot sands of the desert. " By the beard of Pfeffer !" began the king, " here I've been ringing for a waiter for the past moon. Hereafter I swear by the left ear of Bryan that I will deduct a peso from your wajiis for ev- ery kilometre that you keep me waiting. What was that you served me yesterday a. m.? It upset me entirely." " That, oh, Pickleface V began the tallest slave in a sing-song tone of voice, arising and reading from a yellow papyrus, " was a United States senator from Chicago." " Well, the next time you serve one of those things," yelled Mustafa, " if you'll just serve liim without his whisk- AT OUR SUMMER BU.A.RDING-HOUSE. *' The outcry against abbreviated bathing-suits is all nonsense." " I'm afraid you don't look at the question from a high standpoint." '• Lideed, I do. I watch them from the top of the bluff every morning.' ers it won't taste so much like bird's-nest soup. Sabbe ? What have you on the men-u for tu-dhiy ?" " A good missionary," replied the chef. " To fudge with a missionary !" hoarsely replied the chief " My stummique is too weak for that. Besides, these Amerikhans tell us it's hartl to keep a good man down. Bring me a shredded hobo. Avaunt !" And thev avaunted. COULD HE DO IT? NO! ' I want you to recline on that divan, and don't move. I'll give you a dollar an hoiu'. Do you feel equal to it ?" ' Equal to it? Say, miss, stick a pin into me an' wake me up, will yer?" TRUE ENOUGH. Mrs. Grl'mpy — "Joel, I do wish you wuzn't ferever borrowin' trouble." Joel Grumpy — " \Va-al, tUet don't need ter worry ye. I giner'ly pay back wh.it I borrow, don't I ?" The Trouble, |r^g]\'ERY man is the I |p| architect of his own fortune," declares the human quotation- mark. "Quite so," agrees the white -bearded philoso- pher.' " But I have ob- served that he usually at- tempts to build it on plans suggestive of the fashion- magazine hints on 'How to construct a neat sub- urban home for fifteen hundred dollars.' " Their Choice. DROTHER smokes "The ^ Turk's Delight," Uncle. "Golden R.iy"; Hired man finds relief each night In "Sweet Vii^inny Spray." Father chews "Carliny Leaf" And mother chews the rag. This house is just a case in brief Of tag, tag, tag. A Military Necessity in this War. IfSBTlHY," demanded the Russian general of an orderly I A I who had brought news of an engagement in which many were killed and wounded, " did not your colonel send to me the names of the poor fellows who suf- fered in this disaster ?" The orderly saluted. "Sir," said he, " he wished to ; but my horse was weak from over-riding and not strong enough to carry them." "Ah!" said the general. "It is well that we have the Trans- Siberian railroad. Have them dipped to me by freight." Jes' Waitin'. • JES' a-waitin' fo' de robin. Jes' a-watchin' fo' de jay, Jes' a-lis'nin' fo' de hummin'- Bird dat's loafiu' on de way. Gittin' tired ob eatin' 'possum, Giltin' tired ob roaslin' yam ; Nigh a-found'rin' on de side meat. Nebber want ter taste ob ham. Moujhly weary wakin' mawnin's Wid de shivers an' de shakes ; Kind ob achin' fo' spring-feber — Wouldn t mind ter see sum snakes. Jes' a-waitin' by de hen-house Fo' de dominick ter hatch. WTien dese am cum de watahmilyun " Will be ripenin' in de patch. A Wonderful Deterrent. Crawford — " There isn't as much talk about the war in the far east as might be expected." Crabshaw — " That must be because most of us don't know how to pronounce the names of the pliices." o^~ EXPENSn'E. MiST.\H Jackson— " How yo'r son makin' out up in Noo Yawk ? Do it cost moah to' vittles up dah ?" U.NCLE Sambo — "Free times as much Henry sez dat dere ain't a chicking-coop er a »atahmilhi>ii-ii:itch in de whole pi. ice." i/ An Old Salt's Observations. lOST explanations is no good. I looked in the dictionary to f5nd out about fiddler crabs. I found out that they wasn't re'Uy fiildler crabs, but gelasimus pugilators. Then I looked up gelasimus, an' I found out that it was Greek, an' meant some- thin' about laughin'. I also found out that fiddler crabs didn't have no posterior pleurobranchije, an' that anteriors of the same thing was mostly missin' from 'em. Furthermore, th' book said that th' two pairs of pleurobranchise vestigial was also wholly absent from th' critters. Now, that was honest, wasn't it ? There was a sailor who went with me for a number of v'y- ages, an' as good a man to work as ever I had on my ship ; but he would grumble. One v'yage I'd had her all refitted. I tell you, th' Lyddy's fo'c'sle was a palace. There wasn't no work to speak of to do, for th' weather was fine. I see he was unhappy, an' guessed th' reason was that ■ • ' ■^YA^-^1_^K# .A;. NATURAL GROWTH. " He claims to have caught a ten-pound trout." " Why, trout don't grow as large as that." " They (Jo after you've told the story a few times." IN THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. The rose—" I knew the lily bore a bad reputation, but I never thought they would tie him to the stake. I sup- pose they will set fire to him next." there simply wasn't nothin" he could kick about. He got real down- hearted over it. But one mornin' he seemed pretty cheerful an' begun to cuss as natural as life. Oh, he was a-kickin' to beat the band I I asked him what the matter was, an' he growled out, " I'm goin' to quit the sea. There ain't no use of bein' a sailor. Th' seaman 's alius th' un- der dog !" "Why.'" says I. "Look at th' farmers," says he, " an' see what they git from th' government !*' " What do they git that you don't git ?" I asks. " Rural free delivery of mail I" he says ; an' was as hap- py as a clam a-groanin' about it for th' hull rest of th' v'yage. I used to kind 6{ smile when peo- ple talked about the dangers that they'd passed through on land. Didn't seem to me there could be no dangers on land. But, then, one day I was ashore in San Francisco, an' somebody — wasn't that mali- cious ? — got me to try to ride a buckin' bronco pony. My ! how I did pray that God would please let me git back to sea, where every^ thing is nice an' safe ! Tryin' to maintain your reputa- tion on a basis of lies an' false dealin' is like tryin' to hold your pants up with one suspender an' all your buttons off. n - MODELS OF PATIENCE. Mrs. Gaddington — "They have postponed the wedding four times." Mrs. BiFFiNCTox — " WVU. I hope they'll do as well with the divorce." A Practical Connoisseur. Mrs. Cobwigger — " What a beautiful collection of an- tiques you have, my dear !" Mrs. Parvenue — " It should be. My husband knows all about such things, and had them made to order." The Happy Future. Mrs. Waggles — "Everything we have here in the house is so old it is shabby." Wangles — " Have a little patience, my dear. \Vhen they get a little older they will be antique." The Man and the Hour. Mrs. Mason-Lodge (waking suddenly) — " Is that you, Henry ? What time is it ?" Mr.' Mason-Lodge (comfortingly) — " 'Sh, dear! 'S mush earlier 'n us'ly is at thish time, I 'sure you." Logic. Teddie — " Pa, where do we get our milk from ?" Father — " From cows, my son." Teddie — " And where do cows get their milk from ?" Father — " Why, Teddie, where do you get yourj tears ?" Teddie (after a long, thoughtful pause) — " Do they havel to spank cows, papa ?" Fame. First Colombiaii reiwlutionist — " I tell you, we are. putting UD a pretty stiff rebellion this time." Second Colombian revolutionist (proudly) — "Stiff? Why, I understand there was a magazine article written about us last month." HIS PREFERENCE. Sl'M-MER GIRL — " Don't you love the scent of new- mown hay?" Vacation man — "Oh. passionately — but I'd a lit- tle sooner buy it by the ounce at a drug-store !" cr'>j.J^^}>V BOSTON DICTION. Teacher (of Eng- lish) — ■' Michael, when I have fin- ished you may re- peat what I have read in your own words. ' See the cow. Isn't she a pretty cow? Can the cow run ? Yes, the cow can run. Can she run as fast as the horse ? No, shq. cannot run as fast as the horse.' " Future mayor (of Boston^ — " Git JUDGE'S FASHION HINTS. To make tlie latest Style veil, take a plain veil and apply corn-plasters. TRIFLING NOTIONS. Grief is simply joy in the third per- son. It is the listener, not the teller, who makes or mars a story. A man does not usually think twice ^before he marries, but it often happens ^hat he marries twice before he thinks. The flight of time is largely a matter of temperament. Any practical person ■may prove this to another person by at- tempting to disprove it. Mighty is the sovereignty of mind ■over matter. At a low estimate seven- tenths of the world's mental emotion springs from a sore toe or its equivalent. IN TOPSY-TURVY L.\1'ID. Mr. Apple— "Oh, I'm a wise guy. \\'hen I pack a barrel -. -_. 5 a; |< o bfi 0) ■;: .1 ^ •s I O : c 2 E 3 O o •:; 3 C 5 -3 C3 ^ ft ~ a o < E bo rt tao •a u CO OS -i; ■rj «J ~ c U| t» trt ■^ rt rt ?>« o u 3 >, c c O > o -a s: w 3 o o bo bo - rt T3 tn o .^_, u V o 3 C O 3 g < s Assayed. j|HE had a sil- very laugh and golden hair. He had plen- ty of brass. He knew she was en- gaged to another man, but believed he could copper the other fellow's bet3. But one day he met her on the golf-links. Her arms were bronzed and her teeth gleamed as pearls when she smiled at him. " Your lips," he said, " are like ru- bies and your eyes are like great dia- monds." ■'And your nerve," she tittered, " is like steel, but you haven't got enough tin." It was then that the iron entered his soul, he sighed, " she can never be mine." Hfi^iMmn-niy, LOST. •' Geoi^e. dear, where are you ?" '• I'm under this Sund.iy newspaper, trying to find the baby.' 1 Impossible. O, no !" said the smging- teacher who was instructing the class of Kentuck- ians ; " this will not do. You must let your voices blend. Get more of a mel- low effect. Each of you seems to strike out on his own line, according to his own ideas." ■ " Wa-al, c u n - nel," said the first basso, " Ah doan' b'lieve yo' kin git any blend hyuh. Half th' boys has been drinkin' ry-e an' th' otheh half drinkin' bouhbon, an' they woan' blend." Alas !" "HE Lord created woman, but you would never guess it from the evidence of the fashion-plate. Had Heard Him. (( I BELIEVE," said the minister, " that it would be a good idea to have an ' S. R. O.' sign for our church, that we might use on occasion." " Yes," agreed the carping parishioner ; " I suppose it would mean • sleeping room only.' " '^^^ AT THE TRACK. Cholly — •' Now. see here. You lay a bet on Bon Ton and you'll pull out good money." Fekdy — '• Oi course. II I pulled uut bad money the boijkie wouldn't take it." What the Baby Thought. pdngwj »?^^rfaY^ ^P °f f^" a"d '°"g >«l (Ai_) ; .^j; H^iB^ ) o*^ breath, the infant Up ^^1' 'i'jVA "^^Vj. lay upon the couch. * Over it bent the moth- er, who had been given every advantage in musical training. m fact, until she spoiled her future by marrying well, she had cherished vague dreams of enthralling thousands by the magic of her voice. The baby howled for some reason or other. May- be it howled for no reason at all. They usually do. " Bless its little heart !" whispered the mother. " I will sing it to sleep." She lifted up her voice in Sleybach's arrangement of Chogner's fifth lullaby. " Sle-e-e-p, sle-e-e-p, my little one, My little one. my little one ! Ah-h-h ! Ah-ah-ah-a-a-a-a-h ! Tr-r-r-r-r-r-trill-I-l ! Slee-ee-eep ! Slec-ee-eep !" Wonderingly the infant blinked at her. Encour- aged by its show of interest, she bent over it again. The child squalled louder than ever. She resumed singing. '• Now the night — now-w-w the n-i-i-i-ight has come. Sle-e-e-e-e-e-e-ep ! Sle-e-e-e-e-e-ep ! A-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-ah-ah-ali-ah-ah! Closevoureyesingent!eslumber-r-r-r-r-r-r-r ! A-h-h-h-h-li-h-ah-ali-ah-AH-AH-AH-H-H!" But now the infant was redoubling its shrieks. Convinced that something terrible was ailing it, the DRESSED TO KILL She squeezes in her waist until The other girls seem on the shelf She thinks that she is dressed to kill, While merely dressed to kill herself. ENCOURAGING. Cholly — " Before I had sat in the game ten minutes I had lost fifteen dollars ; tlien my luck began to change." Fred — •' Of course !" Cholly — "Yes; and in the next two hours I only lost seven dollars and a quarter, bah Jove !" _^_, distracted mother rushed from the room to seek aid. The infant ceased its weeping, looked about for her, but did not discover her. "Gee !" it murmured to itself. "She must have had a pin sticking her pretty bad." When the mother, accompanied by the papa and the maternal grandmother and tne nurse, hurried to the room they found the chdd peacefully slumbering. Strike Season. THE laborers were standing en masse about the huge rostrum erected tor the present occasion. On the platform, speaking with the emphasis of a full-blown orator and with the allegorical gesticulations of a Demosthenes, was the champion of labor questions. "Strike ! strike ! strike !" he shouted, banging his fist on the rail confronting him. " Strike ! strike ! strike !" he shrieked at the end of each platitude. " No doubt he was at one time in congress," said a smooth- faced individual to the man standing beside him. "Congress nuttin' !" said the tough one in reply. " Dat feller used ter be a baseball umpire." Poverty. .I/r. Newrocks — " What sort of folks are the Bluebloods next door, Mariah ?" Mrs. Newrocks (patronizingly) — " Pleasant ; but they must be frightfully hard up. They haven't got any mechanical attach- ment for their piano and have to play it by hand." UTTERLY WORTHLESS. JoXES — '• How much do you want for that dog ?" Colored man — "Does yo' t'inh fo'teen cents would be too much, bo^s?" Jones — -'Yes. Attything would be too much if you want fourteen cents for him.' Bacillus and the Bugaboos. D ACILLUS had been discovered and sent out into the work! on his mission of misery. He loitered by the way and his discoverer waxed ex- ceeding wroth and said, " Why do you not get busy, oh. Bacillus, anil fill the world with bugaboos ?" Bacillus wept tears of typlioid and replied in a malarious voice, " Behold, I am alone and there is no one to help me. I need an assistant." Then the discoverer found Microbe and sent him forth to the help of Bacillus. The twain soon found Germ, and the three became partners. Bugbears, bugaboos and scares in thousands were planted all over the world and the dis- coverer was wroth no more. But a lot of people were al- most frightened to death nearly every day. Tempera Mutantur. (( VOU used to say," declared the angry wife, "that I was all the world to you." " That," sneered the brutal hus- band, " was before you grew so moon-faced." And he saw stars before he could escape from her orbit. Isolation. THOUGH Crusoe on the island * Our fancy may appall, The berry in the shortcake Is loneliest of all. The Wisdom of the Serpent. Ex'e — "But I don't like apples, any way." The serpent — " That doesn't matter. They are excellent for the complexion." Eve — " Indeed ! Well, per- haps I'll try it." Paradoxical. (< VOUR aunt is shut up in an asylum, isn't she ?" •' Well, she is and she isn't. She is in there all right enough, but they can't stop her talking." The professor — " We owe a great deal to chemistry." Friend — " Yes, indeed. To chemistry, for instance, we owe a great many of our blondes." One Advantage. First deaf- mute (making signs) — " Did your wife complain because you stayed out until alter midnight ?" . Second deaf-mute (chuckling) — " Did she ? You should have seen her ! But when it began to get monotonous 1 just turned out the light." VERY SIMPLE. Ethel — " I don't see how you can tell a wild duck from a tame one." Cholly — " Dead easy. If you can get near enough to shoot him he's a tame one.' 1*7 LITTLE CHRYSANTHEMUM. Cosmopolites who haply go But since they do not bring you back, As far as distant Tokio, Oli. bit of female bric-a-brac. Say you don't need to try to please, We wish you — widow, maid or wife — ' You fascinate with (Japan) ease. y\t home a happy, Jappy life. ^^ Common Fourth- of-July Scene. <' ll/HO is thSt heavy-set gentle- man who is walking up the street alone, carrying his heavy grip ? He seems to be a distta- ACCOUNTING FOR IT. •• What in the deuce ails Scribble? He used to be the noisiest man in the place ; now he never talks above a whisper, and tiptoes around like a kitten." "Why, haven't you heard? Scribble has a baby up at his liouse." guished man, and also seems in doubt as to where he wants to go." The speaker was a visitor to Anyoletown on the fourth of July. " Who — that man over there ?" asked the citizen. "' Why, that's the honorable George B. HoUeran, the eloquent orator. The town 's payin' him ten dollars an' expenses to deliver the oration this after- jioon." " And that other man — that lit- tle fellow with the curly hair, who is surrounded by such a crowd — w^ho is he ? Everybody seems to want to carry his grip for him and shake hands with him. Is he a speaker, also ?" " Nope. That's Senyore Al- phozzo de Ga?zaggeroo, the cele- brated tight-ropist an' hair-raiser- ist. We pay him two hundred dol- lars to walk a rope to-night with a bunch o' fireworks tied to each foot an' a ring o' Roman candles an' sky-rockets on liis head," A Bit of Color. AN ARTIST took his colors To paint a modern youth Who thought the world all beauty And thought all language truth. He got his canvas ready To hold the pleasing scene, Then carefully discarded Each pigment save the green. WILLIAM J. LAMPTON. In Old Kentucky. Thirsty Mtirpliy — "Please, colonel, gimme a dime. Honest, I hain't had a drink fer t'ree days." Colonel Nosepaint (deeply moved) — "My poo' man! heah's the money ; but don't go and squandah it fo' food." A Costly Error. First commuter — " Oh, hang it all !" Second commuter — " What's the matter ?" First commuter (bitterly) — "Let the conductor punch my fifty-serv- ant intelligence-office ticket in- stead of m^y commutation." - >cV SWELL. Dolly — "I like the bathing at this resort.' Reggie — " Why?" Dolly — " The ocean is so swell." A Piscatorial Enthusiast. I YANK from the brooklet with ' verve and with vim. The finest of fishes that wriggle and swim — The perch and the sunfish, the chub and the trout, Within my deep basket are flop- ping about. From sunrise to sunset I fish, all aglow With rapture that's finer than gold, don't you know ; Yea, finer it is than their fizz in the pan, That's heard by the ears of my old inner man. Oh. Eden 's. full often I ia.ncy and wish, A place where I'll have naught to do but to fish Through all the bright day with my bent pin and cork And think I'm up here in old Horseheads, New York. A "BUM" SINGER. Frills. Mrs. Crawford — "Has your son finished his theological stud- ies ?" Mrs. Crabshaiv — " Oh, yes ; but in order to get a fashionable call he finds it necessary to take a post-graduate course in golf." A Problem. Penelope — " I suppose you are going to have an automobile boat." Constance — " Yes. I am won- dering which I should have em- broidered on the sleeve — an an- chor or a monkev-wrencli." li/HEN you see some folks a- comin', pass the " good morn- in' " an' keep a-steppin'. (( ^.Terrible Possibility. VES," said the man from' Michigan, " we are going to- appeal to congress to pass more stringent laws against the wasteful destruction of timber-land." "Lumber getting scarce up there?" asked the man from Georgia. " Lumber?" repeated the Michi- gander. "\Vhat do we care about lumber ? We've got to protect the breakfast-food industry, have- n't we ? And if the sawdust gives out where will we be ?" Cholly^" Darling, say that you will be mine! I worship you ! To me you are as a goddess TRUTH is occasionally, though not frequently, stranger than war- rumors. 2. -on- BUT THE BIG BRE.AKER BUTTED IN. a pedestal." E^=i_^S^^g* Foolish Jap. THE Japanese offi- cer was being court-martialed. "If you have any excuse to offer for allowing your com- mand to be cap- tured," said the gen- eral, " I will hear it now. The man on trial shook his head gloomily. "I ha vc none, sir," he replied. '■ It was my own fault entirely. We had captured a Russian spy, and before we started to re- treat from our dangerous position I asked him to tell me his given name. Ere he had finished the enemy sur- rounded us." The Reply Couneous. ti VOU have the temper of a bear," weeps the young wife when her husband criticises her biscuits. " Weil, maybe if I had the digestion of an ostrich I shouldn't have that kind of a temper," he e.xplains. Still, she is not mollified. "IT'S .VN ILL \\TND." ETC. Rescler — " Hold on a bit ! I may never get a chance like this again." A Diagnosis. «ili/HAT do you suppose is the trouble with those American colonies of mine?" asked George III. while his physician was looking at the gouty foot. " I should say," remarked the physi- cian gravely, " that, from all the symp- toms, the colonies have become affect- ed with independen- citis, and that is a hard trouble to treat." Subsequent events proved that the physician was correct, but it re- quired a great many operations to relieve King George. The Old Question. CHADRACH, Meshach and Abed-nego had spent the night in the fiery furnace. " Good-morning," they remarked when the doors were opened. " Is it hot enough for you ?" With a savage, baffled yell, their persecutors fled the scene. REASSURING. Cholly {nfrv0us/y) — •• But won't this canoe turn bottom-side up?" Boatman (<■*<•«/«//>■)—•• Possibly ; but it 's steadier bottom-side up than any other way, you know.' •z< v: ;i- ^ 5 » a a. T < c -^ > F - 2 T 5 ? o n D As to Nonsense Verse. T was a plodding poet-man. \\ ho wrote some iionseii^t- \'erse — The siirt l)iat frabbled readers hail With curdlous. crushful curse. He sang about a bhjojus jay Whicli dimmed a bushy blunth, And thus gave him a recksome rhyme To blendifv witli month. He gleedled of the jelly-tree Where foodled muggers wink. And tlumght up hip]5<>d(j(i]iu- words Till he ran out of ink. He sent it by tlie whizzous mail. With stampness for retiu-n. It reached a writhous editor. Who swore a dingful durn. And this is why the glinking sun Retains its goldsome glint — The bugsome blob of nonsense verse Was never put in print. '•Don't Jones ?" "Well, hev?" (,)UITE APRurOS. \(ni know, you rascals, that 1 am his honor, Judge den, dis is er genuine case uv honor among t'ieves. The Last Straw. |HERE were some things about the king which his subjects did not like. For instance, he was an inveterate punster. All pun- sters are inveterate ; but as folks have to laugh at a king s puns, he is bound to be invet- erater, and his puns inverte- brater, than any otliers. But, nevertheless, the people were willing to put up with a few little foibles. " Oh, king," said the chief of a large deputaticn of citizens, " may your reign be one long era of sunshine !" " What !" shouted the king. " Won't it be funny to have a long reign and not an umljrella raised .'" It was then that the leader of the hoi polloi gave the sig- nal to sack the palace and bag the king. Served him rioht, too. NO WONDER. Kkf.I'ER (of i/isane-asy/iim) — " Thut patient thinks lie is an automobile." Visitor — " What caused his insanity?" KEEfER — " He fell off a loof and broke both legs, Ixjth arms, ten ribs, his skull and jaw, and injured himself internally." The Peels. PHBtIITH majestic grace IVj the stately ship cleft her way through the fog. All, in- deed, was light and hap- piness aboard. Siuhlenly peel after peel rent the air. Swiftly a tug came to her side and hailed. " Do you need assist- ance ?" asked the cap- tain of the tug. " No," answered the captain of tlie steamer. " It's only these country e.xcursionisls throwing their banana-peels over- bi-ard." CR.\CKING NUT.S WHILE UNCLE lERRV PLAYS THE FIDDLE. An "L" Incident. Y JOVE!" said the e.xcited pas- senger, "there's a vacant seat in the next car." And jump- ing to his feet, he would have dashed madly forward had not his friend grasped his arm. " What's the matter ? Haven't we seats al- ready ?" " So we have !" said the first passenger, sink- ing back. " Upon my word, it's so unusual I didn't realize it." ■vste., WHAT THE CARDS PREDICTED. Muriel — •• Nuxt summer, dear, you will take a long journey abroad aiiJ become engaged to a tall, fair man with heaiw of money." MlLLlCENT — ■■ Fine ! That will just suit me to a t." Muriel — •■ But the next card says that a dark man will come along and cross your t." ^\i) A Slight Correc- tion in Title. [r=«EFORE they were I W married," says the knowing one, " he called her the angel of his life." ■■ Well ?" asked the listener. " Now he says she is the angle of his life." " And why ?" " Says she brought him up with a short turn." Table d'HSte, Fifty Cents. ^K^^/;«a—" What's the matter, Edmund— swallowed some, thing the wrong way ?" Edmund (hastily)— " No ; swallowed the wrong thmg the right way." Paradoxical, But True. H T\0 PECKHAM and his wife get on well together ?" *-' •■ Oh, yes ; they get on very well together they are apart." LET I * » - I) 1 [litfftllll "THEY COME HIGH, BUT WE MUST HAVE THEM." HIS OBJECTION. Mrs. Newlywed— " How dare you object to my bills? Papa pays them all." Mr. Newlywed— " Yes, hang it! But 1 haven't the nerve to ask him to pay any of mine while you are touching him up all the time." Diplococcus Lanceolotus. (Some doctors say that a " cold" has nothing to do with cold itsell ; it is merely an attack ol certain micro-organisms.-iJ--. SINCE modern doctors now declare We have no "colds "—that vicious air Is that which pains our systems so— 'Tis well tills latest truth to know : That vicious air obtains its sway Through millions of bacteri-a. These diplococcus lanceo- Lotus (small imps) are now " the go." For half the folks you chance to meet Upon the cars and in the street Have them quite badly ; but we "re told They are just suffering from a -'cold." The pathogenic critics say You cannot name the thing this way — That it's much wiser to be sure Of the right num-en-cla-ture, Which, bv its tortuous length, explains Much better all these aches and pains. So weather cold and weather hot Are blameless, and should be forgot. What we must fight and drive away Are those absurd bacteri-a Till they are as a story told — And no one henceforth has a '-cold." Should some one ask what harms us so, Say diplococcus lanceo- Ixitus— and more if there be time. For this long word, which will not rhyme. Ought to drive questioners away, And even kill bacteri-a. War on the Mosquito. (A largely-attended meeting was held this afternoon at the rooms of the board of trade and transportation, tlie object of which was to devise ways and means for the extermination of tlie mosquito.— £v^nin^ Sun.} 'fZ^YM ^Ta*< l*w^ AN ECONOMICAL YOUNG WOMAN. Alice — " I thought you were going to marry Miss Gruet ?" Algy — ■•Well, 1 guess not. I pro]iosed to her by letter and she accepted me on a postal-card." Alice — " She's just the girl you want. You can bet she'll be careful of your money." Filled All Requirements. HAVE here," said the poor inventor, " an arti- ficial egg." The purse-proud capitalist waved him away. " Nope," growled the capitalist ; " there's nothing to it. Couldn't find a market for 'em." •' But, sir," pleaded the poor inventor, " by a secret process I have been able to give these eggs the consist- ency and flavor of the cold-storage egg of commerce." That afternoon the agreement was drawn up and the poor inventor went home with his little old ten mil- lions in stock in his inside pocket. The trick is not to invent a substitute for what the public wants, but to get up an imitation of what the public is used to. D j"^^^HLE.-\K January — and each Jersey dune I 9_J With winter's crystal fretwork's glittering o'er. I ^ J And sad-eyed residents along the shore ^~^^*l With fear look forward to the month of June, When the mosquito comes witli siren tune To illustrate phlebotomy once more. And draw full many a quart of native gore With fell intent beneath the gibbous moon. Onward, brave soldiers ! Pour the kerosene In hogsheads o'er the festive swamp until. 'Mid trumpets' blare, you 've finished up the biz. Stamp out the lychnobite that mars the scene. And when the job is done present your bill Before the deadly skeeter puts in his. JUST THE REVERSE. Mabel — " Were you married in haste?" Tom— "No. Philadelphia." 1^ D A Scrap of History. HE New Zealamler was sketching the ruins of St. Paul's when a sturdy Briton approached. " Pegging your pardon, sir," saiil the latter, "do vou appen to know 'ow this 'appened ?" ■■ Don't you know ?" queried the New Zealander in some surprise. " No, sir. The censorship is very strict just now, and ot' course all loyal subjects of his majesty are willing to wait patiently until the news leaks out ; but I tliought as 'ow you might 'ave 'eard something." The New Zealander imparted the desired information. m The Other Side of It. HE amateur reformer is apparently much e.xercised. " Enough money," he says, " is spent in this country annually for fireworks to feed and clothe half the population of the -Soudan." " Yes," answers a smoke-stained person who is holding some lighted punk in his hand ; " and if we didn't send so much money over there to buy clothes and breakfast-food for those savages we could have two glorious Eourths every year." EN who are born great are not always great at the finish. M I A GREAT SUFFICIENCY. Mrs. YovNGHUB — " He hasn't taken his wife anywhere since they were married." Mr. Yoi'NciHl'B — "No. Since he took her for belter or worse he seems to think he has taken her encnigh." 7t Almost a Winner. .1) he win a prize in the matrimonial niarl®S> aSBOKlff- NOT PALATABLE. The vulture—" What's that stuck in your throat?" The tiger — " My last meal had a wooden leg, darn him !" Q His Idea of It. T the theatre the ladies are discussing the attire of those about them, as usual. By and by their attention is attracted to a lady who is the cen- tral figure of a box-party. " Isn't she stunning ?" murmurs one of the fair ones. " She is dressed in mauve satin, is she not ?" " No, no !" corrects another of the ladies ; " it is a pearl-gray satin." "Now," laughs another of them. " let us leave it to the professor here. What has he to say of it ? What is she dressed in, pro- fessor ?" Here the pro- fessor, who has been studying the sights and scenes with all the inter- est of a savant, takes a casual glance at the object of the dis- cussion and ven- tures, "As nearly as I can judge from here, she is dressed in puris naturalibus." Whereat they laugh, thinking he refers to peau de soie, or some such fabric, and has merely made one of the numer- ous blunders which are com- mon to the un- tutored man. What Is Need- ed. ANGRILY the owner of the automobilestares at the wreck, from which the chauf- feur is crawling, a look of apology mingling with the mud on his face. " Didn't I tell you not to try to make that turn at full speed ?" asks the owner. " If I hadn't jumped in time I might have been killed." " But, sir," protests the chauffeur, " I thought " " Don't bother to tell me what you thought !" orders the angry man. " I should think a person who claims to be able to run an autn would have a little horseless sense." m THE OLD MAN'S OPINION. " I told papa yoiir poems were the children of your brain." " What did he say?" " Said they were bad enough to put in the reform-school." The Reai Thing, E listen in rapt attention while the successful novelist tells of his manner and method of composition. Especially are we interested m his exposition of the way in which his charac- ters assume shape and form in his mind until at last they becoii.e living, breathing entities to him, and he feels a deej. personal interest m their actions. " And so all these kings and queens and princes and prin- cesses of your stories are real people to you ?" we murmur, with something of awe in our tone. " Ce rtainly," he responds. " To an author all royalties are the real thing." Explained. Sniff'—" I see that an ancient poem, supposed to have been written by Ho- mer, has just come to light." Shawe — " Ah, he had sent it to some magazine that paid on pub- lication, I sup- pose." The Thought- ful Employer. «JVOW, John," said the thoughtful e m - plover to the as- tute youth whom he had 'engaged as office-boy and general utility person, " while you are resting from the labor of sweeping out the office you might take the rugs out into the area-way and beat the dust from them." " But I am not tired, sir," explained the new boy. " I really do not feel it necessary to take a rest." " All right," responded the thoughtful employer. " You may take out the rugs and beat, them until you are tired, and by that time I will have thought of something elsQ you may do while you are resting^" 1' The Wrong Simile. TE KNEELS at the feet of the heiress. Now, in order to make plain what is to follow, let us state that the heiress weiglis three hundred pounds. True love, however, we will concede, for the sake of argument, knows no waist-lines. And no wo- man is ever so fat as her fortune. Therefore, to proceed, messieurs. He kneels, as we have previously said, at the feet of the heiress. '* You are all the world to me !" he ex- claims. "What?" she pants. " You wretch ! are you aware of the fact that the equator is the largest diameter of the world ?" In vain does he argue that the equator is an imaginary line. This only makes it worse. Metaphorically, she sits down on him ; metaphorically, he is crushed. 1 MEOW! Mart.^ — " Will you love me all your life, darling ?" TmuiAS — '• Dearest. I'll love you all my nine lives." A Bit Personal. OWN !" shrieked the centre rush. The opposing player, who had been flung to theearth, writhed violently; but the centre- rush only pushed his hand the more firmly in- to the face of the foe and cried exultantly, " Down !" Here the opponent wriggled from beneath and caught the centre rush a terrific left-hander on the chin that sent him to the grass and kept him there for the count. The referee, the players, the reserve play- ers, and the police ran to the spot and clamored loudly for an explana- tion, saying it had been agreed that there was be no rowdyism in the game. " I don't care !" excitedly said the offender. "When a man rubs his hand over my chin and yells ' down,' after 1 have been shaving for two whole months, it makes me mad." A WOMAN flatters with her eyes ; a man with his tongue. SOCIETY is human nature on dress-parade. JONES- Smith- A BETTER PLAN. "My idea of business is to put all your eggs in one basket and watch that basket." -" My idea is to put all your eggs in one incubator and heat that incubator." Literary Perplexities. pHE plodding author gazes disconsolately at the heap of manuscript before him. " Is it not yet finished ?" we ask. " It does not seem long since you told us you were at work on the book of the century. " Oh," he answers, " this is another story entirely. I did not finish the book of the century." •• So ? Why not ?" " Why, when I was half-way through writ- ing it some fellow published the book of the decade. Before that had touched the high- water mark of sales the book of the decade JUST AS HE PREDICTED. "It says here, Samanthy, thet Reverend Too- good was a saloon passenger on the Majestic. Heals all liiiw them preachers do cut ii[> when they git away from lium." A Sordid Soul. S Samson Huskiman going to coach D your football team this season ?" asks the visitor of the quarter-back. " Samson Huskiinan ? Don't re- peat tiiat name on the campus." " Why, have you heard anything wrong about" " Wrong ? Listen. Instead of playing with the boys this year, what do you suppose he is going to do .'" " Going into professional athletics ?" " Worse — infinitely worse ! He has ac- cepted the offer of a thousand dollars a week as demonstrator for a hair-tonic." 1. BiNO — ■' Do you think you can make it ?" Bang—" If I do it'll be was in the half-page advertisements. No sooner was the book of the decade on the counters than the book of the year was an- nounced. It was eclipsed by the book bf the month, and that died before the onward rush of the book of the week, and that sank into oblivion under the irrepressible rush of the book of the day, which was hurled into the limbo of forgotten things by the arrival of the book of the hour." He resumes shaking his head sadly. " And," we venture, " is this work you are now engaged upon to be the book of the minute ?" " I had hoped so," he tells us ; "I had hoped so. But who can say ? Maybe before I have reached the last page of the manuscript literature will have struck a split-second gait." -an accident." ir. U J o g > o z z < w X H Q O O H en o Y. ^sr The king — "Truly, retainer, thou hast a goodly wit Chamberluiii, for that merry crack -I will have him knighted.- u -By my halidom I've changed my mind !" WIIV THE KING CHANGED HIS MIND. u ANOTHER MONT PELEE. • The fly — '• Run, boys, run ! There's one of those volcanoes just breaking out' It Got Twisted. HE visitor from Kansas gazes in- tently at the spi- ral fire-escape which winds its way clown the rear of the fifteen-story building. " By jox !" he says, "that must have been a d.irned long ladder a- fore the cyclone hit it." A Good Character. T/!e /cuius — " What sort of a |)erson is Mrs. Newcome, Mr. Hopper?" T/u- general dealer — " She's a perfect lady — doesn't know one brand o' goods from another," n 2 ri o a — 3 — a- ^ a w c '^ o; i-j :3 = O =r 2 > z I Co H O z a: w o w H a; > pel 5 o FULL DIRECTIONS. Old lady — " Little boy, can you direct me toDacey's?" Little boy — " Yes'm ; you walk right up this street till you come to a big drug-store." Old lady— "Well ?" Little bov — '" Well, then you go inside and ask some of the clerks and they'll tell you " POLITICAL POINTERS. Never bet your money early in the campaign. You may have a chance of losing it at better odds. Never work for a candidate with a poor memory. Never argue politics with a fool unless you're a fool yourself. It takes a fool to vanquish a fool. Never write letters during the campaign. Document- ary evidence is hard to lie down. .„..,„.. ..^. „ ^ .„ Never run lor office unless your character will stand the smile the other night and she took it in champagne." witness-box test. Never vote for a candidate who speaks involved sen- Niver judge a man boy his looks, me b'y ; judge him boy tences. He is sure to have an involved head. th' 'ooks av his woman. 5-r ftHUwi., AN EXPENSIVE SMILE. Jayson — " That girl's smile haunts me still." Payson — " Her smile haunts me too. I asked her to have a lo TIME WORKS WONDERS. Jim Jonsing, aged six, and the turkeys. Jim Jonsing and the turkeys ten years later JONES WON THE TURKEY, BUT H.^D TO TAKE HOME QUITE A •LOAD." One Way To Do It. <( "THE problem is this," said the teacher. " I have fifteen apples, which I am to divide among twelve boys. Now, how shall I distribute the apples ?" After considerable chew- ing of pencils and scratch- ing of paper the little Wise I) o y raised his hand. " Well, Johnny ?" "You should giveoneap- ple to three-fifths of a boy." War as It May Be. (Extract from "With Neither Side in the Late War."} (( IT was in the thickest of the battle when the captain's hoarse order rang out, ' Repel boarders !' " Instantly, with that trained precision tound in no other navy, each sailor advanced and offered the enemy a plate of hash." Domestic Tribulations at the Zoo. Mrs. Monkey — " I wish you'd drop in and see our milkman, Charlie, and give him a good calling down." Mr. Monkey — " Why, what's the matter now ?" Mrs. Monkey — " I told him to leave three cocoanuts this morning, and he only left two, and one of them was only half full." Logic. DETWEEN the acts, like ^^ other men. He stole away a while, And when he came to her A Mining Boom. t( Z^* REAT activity in Idunno mining stock to-day !" " You don't say so !" " Ye-ah. Bill Sykes took forty thousand shares and eight dollars cash for that horse he was askin' twenty dol- lars for yesterday." " Well, he made eight dollars on the deal, any way." agam His face betrayed "smile." the " No one will know," he softly said (A foolish thing to say) ; " For every time you turn )uur head It takes my breath away." A Polite Reply. (( pvON'T you think Miss Squairface ought to take more beauty-sleeps ?" asked the dearest friend of Miss Squairface. " Well," answered the young man who was trying to make an impression on the dearest friend, "possibly she suffers from insomnia." ITS PECULIARITY. "My ! what a peculiar style of riding !" " Ya-as ; I s'pose it does seem peculiali ter people wot's neber rid enny ob dese razor- back hosses." A Spirited Expression. irmlOUR eyes," stam- I H mered the wooer, " are intoxicating to me." The heartless damsel laughed roguishly at this. " For your own good," she hinted, " I should advise you to sign the pledge." It took some moments for hit" to grasp the idea that tliis was his congd ; then, resenting her chaff- ing, he arose from his knees and observed, " Pardon me, but you interrupted my remark. I was about to say that your eyes are intoxicat- mg because they have a wry look." The Heroine. IN the drama of existence. Should you take a searching look, You will find the leading lady Very often is the cook. A Public Benefactor. H' ES, I took out an ' Uncle Tom's Cab- in ' company last season and played to packed houses every- where." " Impossible ! With that old chestnut ?" " But I did it just the same." " How did you work it?" " Gave 'em a produc- tion which guaranteed absolutely no Topsys, Lawyer Markses or bloodhounds. This sea- son I'm going to elaborate it, leaving out Uncle Tom and little Eva, and filling .up with a ballet and some Dutch comedians andone or two popular songs." MERCY SAKES ! Dorothy — " Say, auntie, is religion something to wear?" AUiNT Julia — •' My dear, why do you ask such foolish questions?" Dorothy — " 'Cause papa said you used your religion for a cloak.' WILLI.AM TELL was quite heroic. But we'd have less cause to grieve Had lie only shot the apple From the head of Moth- er Eve. A GIVE-AWAY. Photographer — " If 5'ou have a dozen in this style, madam, we present you with an oil-painting enlargement like this — unframed." Madam — " Yes ; but it will cost considerable to have it firamed." Photographer — " Ah ! but if you take a second dozen we present you with a frame." Madam — " Yes ; but in the house I occupy at present I would not have room for it, and I wouldn't know what to do with a third dozen." e rt ^ 'X ^■=1 y. J3 ^ li 1 = _^ 3:3 w u . ^ si > 'f^ J CT3 ^ '>- «, ?; i^ i2 bi c ^ 2 > * r u ^1 il Il = f r A-S, - « *^ ♦ m-Z (J: fe| li o (■ a: ai :.: a! < < IN WYOMING. Eastern sportsman—" Is there any danger of a man g -tting shot out here by mistake for a deer?" Bronco Bill—" Why, tenderfnr.t. how you talk ! No. Who ever heerd of a deer gettin' drunk an' sassy in a saloon ?" Reverend Si Slopper's Bulletin. DAR will be a quiltin' pahtj' At Miss Yokum's Mond'y night Fo' terstahtde 'scripshunpapah Fo' de pastah's ycahly fight. Doan' fo'git de weekly meetin' Ob de amen-cu'nah set ; Reckomcmbah dat yo'r pastah Got tcr rise dat mawgedge debt. Raffle-pahty git togeddah Eb'ry Choosd'y night at eight ; Any offerin's dat yo' min' ter May be left at pastah's gate. Convu'ts cum on We'n'sd'y ebenin' Wid deir weekly sacerfice ; 'Membah dat de pastah need it When he cut de debil's ice. Thu'sd'y night de pickaninnies Christen'd by deir rightful names. Dar should be sum conterbu- shuns Fo' ''e pastah's chillun's games. Frid'y night de ole folk gaddah Fo' ter 'range 'bout buyin' wood Fo' de chu'ch an' fo' de pah- s'nage An' de pastah's gen'ral good. Sat'd'y night de chu'ch choir 'sembles — Tune yo'r voice ter sing de praise When de ushers Sund'y mawnin' Shoves de plates ter maik a raise. CLOSE TO THE IDEAL. Pat — " Casey 's the model husband. He thinks ivirything av his woife." Mike — " He do?" . _, Pat—" He do. Iviry toime he blacks her eye he goes out an' gits a sirloin shteak to put on it. The Unending Problem, «as examined in supplementary proceedings the papers only gave her a paragraph when she ex- pected a column." The New Literature. Friend—" What is your new- novel about ?" iXovelist — "Oh, 1 couldn't tell you that. You see, the publishers are going to offer a prize to any one who discovers the plot." A Give-away. RY a radium cocktail," suggests the bar-tender, giv- ing the mirror an upper-cut with the towel. " I guess not," says the man who is eating cioves. " If I drank one of those things and then went home rnd put up the usual excuses to my wife for being out late she would see through me in a minute." A Quanette of Ifs. I'D LIKE to hear the mauser crack, * The cannon's thund'rous tone. If I could do the hearing by Long-distance telephone. I'd like to fight the Russian bold With wild and fiendish grin If I could wear some armor-plate And uniform of tin. I'd like t© help the Japanese At morning, night and noon If I quite ©ut of reach could fight Afloat in a balloon. I'd like to camp out in the fields With all the men of might If I could eat' at a hotel And sleep at home at night. An Inquiry. He — " I don't see why you shouldn't believe that you're the only girl I ever loved." ^Jie — " Why ; did all the other girls believe it ?" IF that Panama canal could only be dug elsewhere and shipped where it is needed, its construc- tion would not be delayed. A "CLENCHED" HAND-OUT. Tramping Thorlev — '■ Did yer git de hand-out ye expected uv de lady ?" MiRV S.MOLLETT ( growling) — " Naw ! I got a hand-out I didn't expect, consistin" uv bones and knuckles. Blamed if it wuzn't almost a knock-out." It, -, n D a> 3 rt rr n n V CUM C n •-1 O-^ rt » 1 u 3 o n ° 3 ^ 3' a 1 V Ul n f ?■ r Ml H > > p* 8^> ' i ft < S^ = 1 o ^ c ■^ -1 S; " p- rr. p o ^ o t-i V, usly overest o ;»> c tl- p -1 O c ■^ < H 3- o 3 O 5 < cr 3 n (T n o O P 3 3 < ^ 5 3 w p re rr ft o o ^ 3 ?T- : c a. 11 uv c 9 •a o w 3" O ■-I p •-1 P p 3 =r o P ^ = ^ re D. r n p z > c ;r M ?r ^ c. ;;- S 5 C 3 IS ' ■c ^ p Si C O =? tfl 3- o p a- -1 i 3 3 «-j s n P o 3 P :; u 3 O y H ^ n ? ^ r 3 < a- p <; S o =5 2- H) TO p ? o ^' s ^ o a- o s. =- O < c — o n Z a r' J o 2 !" -o Z; -• =". i o r> „ - E^ 3' 5^ (TC rt o c S' " O 1^ CO 3 I 3 - 2 0„ 3 'i^ •a O O c H c "1 3 ft CL o c 3 > 3* !!L 3 =-S^?o 3 ^ o ~ !£ Si r ^ 3 3' o 3 9q fT p o C/J p o" ^ 3 <: ^ s r" 3- 5. o p I 5 2- n f^ O CO 1 "> * O 3 ft tp =^ z > 3 M 3 en o .. !U - 3 a. O o s i " o 3- 5 o c- 3 — 3 "-ft O ? 3 c » o o' £ 3 3 f ?3 ii, _ p — . J — ^' re cr • re 3 S' ^ § w 3- 3- O — C _. Lfl O ft 3- 3 W re 3 3 o -< cr 3 c to 3 O. ft - E C r* n r* o » ■^ f'^tid/ jy^cL,?.^ tU r^^Z-J^ 3 TK^ m A BARGAIN. Keeper — " Yes ; it'll cost de state free hundred dollars to electrocute you." COHENSTEIN — "I tell you vat I do — I'll shoot mysellul fer a hundred an' fifty." The Song of the Chauffeur. (St^ntprt- con gasoline — Molto veloce.) T cloudless mom, with ceaseless horn, My horseless reckless speeds. If thoughtless men stand careless then Their wives wear widow's weeds. Remorseless pace, this goal-less race, But lawless on I steer. A hapless cow is legless now And spinneth on her ear. In helpless wrath my heartless path With speechless folk is filled. A guileless child — its name is filed Among those "also spilled." A luckless goat, a hairless shoat, Run senseless, tactless, by. The pig is pork ; the wingless goat I make a butter fly. With toneless toot and fearless scoot I drive the heartless car. There's no redress, methinks — unless It be the gates ajar. To Doris. pvORIS, empty now the place is *^ Where my heart was wont to be. With the skill of all youi graces, Won't you fill it up for me ? His Satisfactory Status. SUCCESSFUL man, eh ? Has he held some high office, achieved a great commercial victory, won a name in any of the arts, or become lamous in some certain direction ?" " Well, no ; not exactly. But he is the solidest farmer in the county, lives within his income, is never bothered by autograph-hunters, don't know he's got a stomach, has sense enough to be aware that he's not a logical candidate for anything, cares even less than he knows about good form, has a wife who is uncursed by social aspirations, trains up his children in the way they should go an' goes along with them in it, is not distantly related to any great man, can swap horses without skinnin' or never called bein' skinned, is prominent or stigmatized as ' colo- nel,' owns a roadster that is just a little bit faster than any other in the region, an' has a son-in-law that he's abundantly able to lick if they ever have a quarrel. Them's some of the reasons why I call John G. Fullen wider a successful man.' The Up-to-date Boy. << \l/ILL your employer be in after dinner ?" inquired the visitor of the office-boy. " Nope,'' was the laconic reply. " What makes you think so .'" was the next query. " 'Coz," replied the boy as he prepared to dodge, " that's what he went out after." HE that would have an oyster from the soup must have a long spoon, a stout heart, and the eye of faith. WILLING TO PLEASE. Mr. Medders — "Yes ; it's a tony hat, but it's too blamed big. It comes down over my eyes." Mr. Cohenburger — "Rachel, get the scissors qvick, an' cut der chentleman's two eye-holes in his hat !" Poor Judgment. HOUR proposal," sighed the young woman, gazing upon the man who knelt before her, "is very beautiful ; but it sounds to me like the one Hec- tor de Bauvilleine made to Genevra Colincourt in ' The Romance of Old Chizzlewick Castle.' " " It is," confessed the swain ; " it is almost word for word the same proposal. You see, it seemed to me that it was the best form I had ever seen, so I adopted it." " Well, did you read the rest of the story ?" " No ; only to see that she accepted him. That's as far as I read." " You do not know, then, that Hector de Bauvilleine ran away with the cook after steal- ing all of Genevra's jewels and I shudder when I think of what MUST BE DRY. " Have yez had yer breakfast yit, Muike I" "Not a dhrop." money ? Please go away. " Intoxicating ?" sniffs I have escaped." saw her. The dress was Literary Names. HES," says the fond mamma; " I think we picked real pretty names for the twins. Pa got them out of a book. I always did like a name with a literary tone to it." " And what do you call the little darlings ?" "Fauna and Flora. It's from a book in the library down town that tells about 'The Fauna and Flora of the west- ern hemisphere.' " << Spirited Criticism. UABEL SNOGGS wore a claret-col- ored gown with ver- mouth braid and rye ribbon and bourbon laces," says the first young woman. " And I heard Orville Bings tell her she was perfectly in- toxicating. Tee-hee !" the second young woman. " I a mile too tight for her !" SEVERELY PUNISHED. " So Silas was charged with havin' seven wives. Was th' judge severe on him ?" " Awful ! He discharged him with all seven of his wives waitin' fer him in th' corridor.' A Musical Confession. PLAV oil the fiddle from morning till night, To gather the touch that is airy and light ; I play to the daisies that bob to and fro. And seem to be dancing with rapture aglow. T play, and the pussy-cats on the back fence All caper about with a joy that's intense ; And spotted old Carlo, quite lost in liis mirth, Sits up and barks gayly for all he is worth. ■ Good friends, let me tell you that this is the way I practice all night and 1 practice all day ; And ^^•llen I can rattle the rag-time so sweet That quick 'twill get into the wayfarer's feet I'll go for a job on the Rockaway boat. And saw the four strings with my ringlets afloat. And hear the folks shout, '• He's a genius most rare ! Ye gods ! and he hasn't chrysanlhemum liair," Appropriate. 4 x: ^ u o V g bo o & S «^ ^- = II (/) b/) -;J £ M u ii „ w c U) V T3 C c o ID o ho c OJ o U S > 'So tn fl) >, >, JZ t/1 w s s^ 3 o OJ '^ O E ■3 JZ V u OJ '" "rt u j: t- rt D c 3 bx; 3 o ' o >1 x: a. -a c 'S Q. O -3 3 O : -= °- 5 o rt -' H S 3 (v; r o ^1 bo_i. o o o ■" c 11 c bfl 2 o o o V V bo c u: > « rt n: <: 5 - o £ a. I :,2 B. o J= o r- - J^ rt i _ P3 HH O ■15 •O 3 < g f- .13 u o _ < - o g -3 - ^ -3 ii — c D. O -a > cfl 3 C. bo bo c >< bo c o C/2 ;£ rt ~ E C x: ? -5 o o ~ -3 >^ c O ■—; - u ■— 3 C cti J2 J= J= c • "^ bo 3 *J u -a ° "S to J 3 U in T- O o i; bo 5 o ii o o _- .5 -So 3 O U (J ^ v. J= -° S IS E c o £ .c r= ^ CTJ nj "U O = H ? -5 2 -5 ..r' - 1) *^ u rt f u S r-. V u (/; OJ D >^ c o u O > o V 3-3 "= 5 £•« bjo O 5 I u a 7i £ :: c ft. *r ^; <; S 5= O D C < K a c Q Pi H C>i tn ►4 < H K D His Dream of Joy. LL soon be on the bleachers And watch the zipping ball A-cutting down the daisies That whisker all the mall. I'll perch there like a shanghai Upon the moonlit limb And eat the bun-bound, varnished Frankfurter full of vim. I'll root for all the " giants," And stamp and clap and cheer, And punctuate my gladness With now and then a beer. Hurrah for good old baseball That soon will be on deck From Brooklyn to Chicago And back to Little Neck ! 'Twill see me. like a monkey, Upon the bleachers sit. As happy as a king, while The sunny moments flit. The while I chant serenely, '• Oh, never, never fret ; One baseball makes a summer In first-class style, you bet !" 'HE man who is his own worst enemy should declare war m For the Picnic. ND when I return," says the home-going mission- ary to the converted can- nibal chief, " we shall get our little flock together and have a church picnic, as is the cus- tom in my native land. Now, is there anything I can bring back with me that would please you ?" " Well," said the cannibal chief, " suppose you bring a few sand- wich-men just for that picnic." Quid Pro Quo. (( A NOTHER fifty-dollar hat this spring ?" asks the irate hus- band. " Why, you got one last year and only wore it once." " What if I did ?" asks the argu- mentative wife. " You only spent the fifty dollars once last spring, didn't you ?" No Cough for Him. »WHEN Bliggers had a cough he '• Was told to drink no coffee ; And now he's sued. For he is rude And won't cough up his cough fee. THE USUAL TIME. Pat—" Would ye accept me if Oi should propose, Norah?" NoRAH— " Y-yis ; but Oi should want at least two weeks to consider th' matther ' All Are Skaters. IN BOHEMIA. "Has van Dauber finished that painting of a ten-dollar bill?" .. No. l^ie poor fellow couldn't resist the temptation of painting the town with his model. 0LL the world's a lake Of ice. begirt with snow. Many skaters take A header as they go. Some stay on their feet If they heed advice ; Others take a tumble Trying to cut the ice. The Obstacle. (( IT'S a wonder Mr. Henpeck doesn't stand on his rights." " He can't. Mrs. Henpeck always sits on them." The Limit. Blibson — " Foggs is becoming autocratic." Glib son — "Worse ; he's becoming automo- obilistic." Graduated Eyesight. HES, SIR," said the Den- ver hotel-clerk to the new arrival ; "that white- capped mountain away off there is in the Rockies, and it is a hundred and fifty miles from here." " Who would have imagined it was so far ?" commented the guest. " Oh," was the airy response from the clerk, " if the atmos- phere was only a little clearer it would be three hundred miles away." i :: ^1 * a. §. H n rt rt 5: ►n p. C O <-. 3 =1 r "S [/! C ^ o >r s p> K s- c ^'^ I ■4 -•■ ^ A Business Head. HE interviewers ask the nobleman who has just arrived, why he is carrying the neat little savings-bank among his baggage. " I wish." he explains, " to apply American business meth- ods to my love affair — if there should be one." "But we thought that would be perfectly understood," murmur a few of the interviewers. " Ah, gentlemen, I see you do not understand. You see, I read the .■\merican papers. I observe how one may buy a piano, or a house, or a set of books, or anything, and take possession of it without paying in full. The dealers supply him with a small savings-bank, similar to the one I have. Then each day the purchaser slips a dime or a quarter or a dollar into the bank, the dealer retaining the key. Presto ! Before you know it you have paid for what you bought and do not notice the expense.'' " And you — how will you apply this method to your own case ?" •' -And I — if I marry an heiress whose father is temporarily tangled in the markets I shall install the little savings-bank in my home, retaining the key, of course, and my wife shall place each day a small sum in the bank. You see, messieurs, it will make it pleasanter all around " \- NOT INFECTIOUS. Customer {wAo has ordered a book) — -'Have you got the encyclopaedia?" New assistant — "Oh. no. sir ! It's something you can't ketch." The Woman of It. li/HEN Mrs. Pot met Mrs. Kettle "' the memory of the 'little dis- pute of their husbands was fresh in their minds. However, jdrs. Pot got over it gracefully, and the other members of the club said no one could have been nicer or more thoughtful about it. Mrs. Kettle advanced cordially, took Mrs. Pot's hand, and murmured her pleasure. Mrs. Pot cried, " So glad to see you ! And how well you look ! Black, my dear, is so becoming to you !" A Smoker's Joy- I WALK the quiet thoroughfare, As if on breezy springs, And blow serenely in the air These flor del fumar rings. I see them slowly drift away While I cavort in style And heave my chest in manner gay And wear a happy smile. And as my arms about me fly And in the zephyr wave, They envy me the weed that I Puff on the purple pave. And j'et I have a little joke While on my way I dive — The flor del fumars that I smoke • Are always " three for five." Spring Bulletin. THERE'S a most excited twitter ' Going on just overhead, For a newsboy robin shiiuted, '• Extra I Extra! Winter's dead!" IT is a wise leap-year girl that looks carefully before she leaps. AN -AJfNIHILATOR OF "TIME .\ND .SPACE." 1%, il^^^ 3 > u X — J2 Z tH i ^ c ^ « a. u ?^ is a: of The Horrors of War. TWO men sat in the smoking- room. " Have you read the account of the capture of Seoul ?" asked the one witii the newspaper. "No ," replied the other. " Let us hear it." He of the news- paper began to read. " At dawn the Russian column moved on the out- works, under com- mand of Gener- al lanovitchkiple- venovetskyovitcli. When within seven hundred yards the enemy opened fire. The Japanese exe- cution was terrific — seventeen Rus- sian officers fell al- most immediately. Among these were General lanovitch- kiplevenovetskyo- vitch, Colonel Og- oroffak 1 i eff ravone vitslnoff, Captain Romaniefflaysklergnopieff, Lieutenant Veranolieherallieff- kjonakoff" The reader's voice suddenly ceased. r ■ — - ^^ ' >' .^^^Kji ' • ■ i ^^1 i>; ^s \ ^^liy ^H vv^. vflfll^B jH ^^HIR."". HjjAH ^H 1 'iHHy ?r^!H^^?^^i9^^^^^| H v^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^l Bpi^ ^1 JPHPiSl 'M FrajNankivei. ^ NOT ON THE J.WV. Mrs. Kelly — " It sez here thot if wimmen wor prize-foigliters ye wouMn't be able to knock thim out." Kelly — " No ; there's no use thryin' to put a woman to shlape be hittiii' lier on th' jaw." Mrs. Park — " No. I am sure he hope that I wouldn't ask him to buy m He fell writhing to the floor, and a physician was has- tily summoned. The man of med- icine was shown the newspaper ar- ticle. L^pon seeing it he shuddered and shook his head sadly. "Seven this morning," he said in a choked voice. " Send for the cor- oner." Why He Knew. n /""AN no child tell me what kind of a bird Noah sent out of the ark ?" asked the superintend- ent. " " Billy can," vol- unteered the chil- dren. " His father keeps a bird-store'." Diplomacy. Mrs. Grainercy — " Weren't you pleased when your husband said you looked pretty in that dress ?" just said it in the e a new one." .\NVTniNG TO BLAME IT ON. Mother — "Johnny Jones, did you get that awful cold out skating ?" Son — "Molher. I think I cauglit it washing my face yesterday mornino. ONE UF THE MAC'S. Patrick — " Phwat's th' name av th' bur-rd, Sandy ?" Sandy — "Macaw." Patrick — •• G'lang widyezl A bur-rd wid a nose loike thot named McAugh .' R^de th' soign ag'in, Sandy." QERHAPS the reason we are so prone to find tault with our neighbors is that it helps us to forget our own shortcomings. One Reason. <« ALSO," con- tinued the portly la. n O c J= c ift o X nj V o a; 5 tft . p. -5 JZ ^ i2 '= rt (ft - g ♦J 3 x: be ^ wan thot t a harse c o Iroad. , " can y d Mr. O' e road ?' ■- > E bib ale Rai O'TooIe '■ asserte oad a ral ale road is th' fact tho rale road.' to 3 ■a -■ E — u ■> ■S bo a: c --i B Cl. c (ft ..- The " said M e nor tho Is a rai le. A r; aison of : has on a fcH (ft i5 3 — ■ C (ft lU — (U a, J3 r X- o u u _ C«S o -•- 3 -■!_ w E :h '^ 1^ TUND tell ye :11 me t o „-i 1L> V tl o I- impr I W with E tj o j= . J ■3 > be bo „ (ft « b, (U OP— u -S o u T3 C -E: ^ nj JZ X3 (ft (Tl u i2 («' > ^^ > " u ^ u QJ .S - c .2 •• 3 — U W3 O U (ft O E^^ ^ : f .2 i 2^ ^ 1 -s S ^ .ti « ^ bop ^ bo >,-^ c report 1 just i that th( (ft (J _ cc ■the We'l ting ".5hJ!£ (ft . (ft ave been ondayed me and aturdayei sked the They rtainly d one : u c 1 O ■« ES, I h; "I M at ho ne and S Yes ?" a •>!. : *.- ssistan ditor — rming i B^ ^ : ^ kJ (C 1^ 1 o c ym s o ^ i _l ii' = o ■S S 'S T .:= = J3 £ .= i •5" 'H ■" t? . rt .^ ■= "5 i « - S T3 i! u j; ^ I * -^ J g> B -I i o — 'i D - " g C •O 13 2 5; > s -5 - -5, = " * 5 J- j= c < H r H < u -a a. '■5 ^ Ji ■S -a = K « 3 . a -S >^ p3 *^ rt W 3 •3 "^ -^ T? -^ -C < o < O 4) O o 5 O 11 (u *■ •« -2 o (^ a. •a C *- c< CO c ^ 'C "u 1> bo 3 O e>£ 3 u 'o O (U « XI ^< a. 3 s -j; rt O -r I. _^ s 3 -a ™ Os: ^^ o S = .= m ii = .= r - E "O S -"6 C 5 S S S g £ - -o .= -c = si. ii ^^ j: a 3- .= '5 ;^ .. = I. '^ « tic :S = £ ^ .- I i ^ Si -^ " "k '5 _ 2 "O == >^ < H < " > A Rural Pessimist. HILE A Celestial Conversation. [VERY now and then the newly -arrived spirit was rather ^^—^—^ inclined to throw on style, which, considering his abiding-place, was un- called for, and w.ts naturally distasteful to the rther spirits. He was rlway-. talking ab lUt how many things had hap- pened to him wh le he so- journed on earth. One day he fell in with i mild-manner- ed spirit who listened patient- ly to his boasting. " And so you think you are entitled to some special distinction because you en- dured so much in your other life ?" asked the mild-man- nered spirit. " Oh, I don't say that, ex- actly," was the airy, noncha- lant reply; "but of course anyone who has gone through what I did is of necessity en- titled to ^ome distinction." " Um-m-m I Well, what was the most trying ordeal you suffered ?" " The very worst, I should say, was being operated upon for appendicitis." The mild-mannered spirit laughed satirically. "Appen- dicitis ?" he chuckled. " My good fellow, you don't know the least thing about critical operations. I've got voit IWHILE good folks are "' shoutin' I am very glum. All these dancin' blossoms Do not mean a plum. On the peach's blossom You can never bet Thet a peach fur certain You will ever get. Folks may;take ter dancin'. Bui your Uncle Cale • Bets his bottom dollar Thet the crops 'II fail. A Sign of Spring. Cobwigger — "What • 10 you want with a set of wheels .'" Freddie — " Want to make an express-wagon out jf the bobsled." double discounted." And he floated away, with a trail of sardonic laughter in his wake. "Who is that old boaster?" asked the new spirit of a by-flyer. " The one you were talking with ? Don t you knew him ? That's Adam." He Was Flourishing. (( I HEAR that Jimpkins is getting along fine in the city," said Blobbson. " I suppose he is, maybe ; but I never thought he would," commented Niverly. " His father told me he was flourishing, though." " Yes. he is. He is teaching penmanship." THE royal housekeeper found King Midas in the cellar ' weeping golden lears that were rattling down on the floor like hail. ' "Good master!" cried she, "what is the matter?" " Alack, alack !" cried the unlucky king. " It was darK down here, and 1 have put my hand in the coal-bin by inistake." A GOOD SIGN. The cabby {soliloquising) — " Shure. Oi knew from th' shtart 'twould be a match. He niver mintioned a wur-rd about th' price av' tli' fare, bless his heart I" WILLIE BACKBAY'S COxNFESJION. 1 lope on the flagstone at morning and night. And peddle the jV^vs with a grin of delight ; I yell of great battles that never were fought, And all my big pack in a jiffy is bought. I shout like a war-painted Indian, you bet, And smoke, while I'm shouting, the gay cigarette, And whirl in my flight like a der\'ish of song, Until my staccato is heard in Hong-Kimg. And then when my coins in the twilight I count The cliarger of rapture instanter I mount And glide to my chateau upon the Back bay. And fancy I lounge on the sward in Cathay. And that's why I'm ever alert and elate, AVhile dancing and snapping my fingers at fate, And filling the ambient zephyr apace With news of the battles that never took place. Not Always. (( \J0 ; the models are not a bad lot," says the artist. '^ "I hardly thought they could be as bad as you paint them," comments the friend. TOO GOOD FOR HIM. Casey {from his hiding-place) — " Whist, Muldoon I How's th' Or-rangeman Oi shwatted yisterday ?" MuLDOON — " He's in th' hospital, hangin' betwixt loife an' death." Casey — " Hangin' is he? Shure, thot's too good fer him." BOXING HIS EARS." I "^ AT THE SEANCE. Widower — •• Are you happy, Sarah?" Sarah (or her spirit) — "Yes. Henry; perfectly happy. leen-incU corset, and the smallest size shoes never pinch." 1 can now squeeze myself into a six- Fortune-telling. H^O YOU think you '■^ could read my future if I would let you hold my hand ?'' asks the maiden. " Well, don't you think it shows more consideration for you than to go out and fig- ure on the stars ?" he asked. Ten minutes later he was holding her hand and his own fu- ture had been settled. Defined. Jo h n ny Wise — ' ' Pa , what is a prospective bridegroom .■"" Mr. IVise—'-V^eW, my son, a prospective bridegroom nowadays is a young man pros- pecting for an heiress." m Her Falseness. ND so," ejaculates the wild-eyed lover, " you will not be my valentine ?" " Why, the idea !" titters the fair young thing, smiling in derision and revealing a row of pearly teeth. "You laugh at me ?" cries the youth. " At last I see your falseness !" With a start the girl ceases smiling, closing her lips firmly. S! e also nervously clutchts her top hair. " Ha, ha !" is the bitter laugh of the re- jected one. " I only meant to refer meta- phorically to your heart, I had my suspicion^, however, as to your teeth and hair." M aje sti cally he stalked from the room, while the woman, ut. terly crushed, fell to weeping before her mirror. A 'Prentice Hand. jiTH.^T man you had doing some carpenter work is a fraud." " How do you know ? He did good work." " That may be ; but he's no carpenter. He cleared up the mess he m.ide." UNFORTUNATELY the things that are too good to be true are a good deal scarcer than the things that are too true to be good. BETWEEN ACTORS. William — "I say, Joseph ; what's the good word?" Joseph — " 'Sh I Don't bother me, my boy. I'm getting my part for to-nightr /^^ Their First Punishment. j]HAT are you doing, Cha- ron ?" asked one of the shades who were loaf- ing on the landing-pier at the Styxian ferry terminal. " I'm rigging up a lot of straps on a rail over the centre of my boat, ' explained Charon. ' Its a new wrinkle we 've in- vented for the benefit of street- railway barons who do not run sufficient cars to accommodate their patronage. We '11 make 'em hang on to these straps for fifteen round trips before we let 'em off the boat, and I'm going to stand close to 'em and holler ' Fare !' right in their ears about every two sec- onds." A Gilt-edged Outlook. ^liE crops are all o. k. ; They're comin' mighty 1 fine. An' with the millionaire I'll shortly be in line. The cabbage an' the squash, The turnip an' the bean, Just bust to beat the band An' make the future green. Oh, soon I '11 find tliat they Are just as good as wheat, An' sell them for the price They're gettin' now fer meat. An' then a millionaire 1 '11 caper, don't you know, An' hang forever up The shovel an' the hoe. HOW HE KNEW. • How can you tell that tlie Shamrock is an Irish boat?" • By the wake." CA'EN Christian science ^ would hate to tackle error on the ball-grounds. UNAVAILABLE. Frayed Fagin — '• Wof's good fer a dog-bite ?" Sunny Beam — " Git a hair uv de dog dat bit yer an' " Frayed Fagin—" I ain't got a chance. Dis wuz a Mexican hairless dog n Pierce. HERE'S Gabb- sey over in the corner with Popsey, telling him all about the smart things little Willie has been saying," re- marks Migglebury. " Yes ; and just notice what an inter- est Popsey is taking in it," answers Fa- doogus. " 1 don't see how the man can stand it." " Oh, he'll get his evens all right." •• How ?•■ " Why, didn't you know that Popsey has a set of triplets, and they are only be- ginning to talk, and they all three say bright things at once ?" D fluiKCU 6c^t~ POOR THING! Why weeps the cow ? Why don't slie give The fly a swishing shoo? See how the artist drew her tail — Whai can the poor cow do? A Reminiscence. T IS the tenth year of the world. Colo- nel Adam Adam, the popular farmer of the land of Nod, is busy in his field, when a political del- egation calls on him. By way of open- ing the conversation, the chairman ob- serves, " We are having an early fall, this year, colonel." " Not half as early as we had in one," snortsColonel Adam, turning his back on the delegation. Realizing that they have fractured the entente cordiale, the visitors silently with- draw. r\ID you ever see a newsp per portrait of a man who A PENNILESS man is always telling you how charitable was in politics for his health ? he would be if he had the price. HOW'S THIS FOR LOGIC? '■ What are you plunging back in the water for? You just swam ashore.' " Shure, Oi had to save meself first ; now Oi'm goin' to fetch Moike." He Knew. 14 THERE is a good deal of illiteracy around here, isn't there?" asked the man from the north, who was journeying through the wilds of Arkansas. •' Thar used to be, stranger," replied the native to whom the inquiry wasaddressed, " but them confound- ed revenue officers have done busted the business plumb up." His Role. ((I SEE that de Ran- tem is going to be a star next season," observed Brutus Fut- lites to Beatrice Lite- futes. "A shooting -star, no doubt," comment- ed Beatrice with that spontaneous wit which has made her press- agent famous ; " for 1 understand he is to have the leading role in a wild-west drama." The Merry Mag- nates. «I-IA, HA!" laughed the first street- railway magnate, who was going through his mail. " Here's a funny let- ter." "What is it?" asked the second street - railway mag- nate. " Oh, the usual bunch of complaints about the service," explained the first speaker ; " but it is signed ' A patron of twenty years' stand- ing.'" HIS DEFINITION. " By hookey ! thet must be tlie lire-water I've heerd the Indians tell so much on but never seed before." Mc Jigger — " I saw Markley blowing off that theatrical man- ager to a ten-dollar dinner yesterday." Th i n g u in b b — " Yes ; a scheme of his, and it worked beautifully. He was working him for a couple of passes." HOW THE UP-TO-I>ATE PROrRIETOR OF MANI.ESS BEACH UTILIZED THE SEA-SERfENT. In the Gro- cery. BSaMES," said '==' the honest grocer to his in- dustrious clerk, " I find that you have taken in a counterfeit dollar and two or three lead quarters this week. You must be more careful. I have spoken to you several times about giving bet- ter attention to your work. Now, hereafter you must notice tlie money that is handed to you, and not let these swindlers palm off imitations on you. While I am on .the subject of your inattention — 1 might say carelessness, but let's call it inattention you not to pour any pure cider-vinegar. It complaint, and it will ■RASTUS'S INGENUITY. 'Say, boss, I bet dis yere combinashun 's gwine ter ketch me sumthin'.' to duty — I might as well tell more water into that barrel of 's almost too weak now to avoid not do to reduce it further. Where's that 'pure country butter' sign? Hunt it up and put it on this tub of butter that has just come in from the packing- house. You ought to have done that when the goods came in. And what have you done with the ' new-laid eggs ' card ? Get It right away and place it on this crate from the storage-house. Oh, yes ; and don't forget to push this genuine maple- syrup to the customers. Here's a couple of bottles I brought back from home. We can't eat the stuff. Put the bottles in stock ,and get rid of them. Now, move a little ivelier, James, and look out for bad money, and you'll be all right." Useful Piece of Furniture. THEY are going to have a bureau of information at the corner drug- store during the convention," said Mrs. Perkins. " Wonder if we couldn't get it af- tertheconvention is over," mused her husband. " Get it ? Get what ?" inquired Mrs. Perkins. " The bureau of information. We need one in the house. I could keep my handkerchiefs in it. Nobody ever knows where they are now." '•THE TIE THAT BINDS" Farmer — -' Mutlier, I hain't got the heart ter do it. It 'd seem too much like killin' one o' the family." CO •fl c ■^ r M o I I O 15 =-3' 5 3 -=- n H r M H a-S. O p. 2. c go. n -3 =r f S 2. ft r* 2.179 •1 ►^ o c 3 : n c. CTQ '^ WHEN A FELLOW Helpful Hints. IHE anxious mother rings up what she thinks is the day- nursery to asl< for some ' ' advice as to her child. She asks the central for the " nurs- ery," and is given Mr. Gottfried Gluber, the florist and tree-dealer. The following conversation ensues : •• I called up the nursery. Is this the nursery ?" •' Yes, ma'am." " I am so worried about my lit- tle Rose." " Vat seems to be der madder ?" "Oh, not so very much, peniaps, but just a general listlessness and lack ot life." " Ain'd growing righd, eh ?" "No, sir." " Veil, I dell you vat you do. You dake der skissors und cut off apoud two inches vrom der limbs, und" " Wha-a-at ?" " I say, dake der skissors und cut off apoud two inches vrom der limbs, und den turn der garten-hose on for apoud four hours m der morning " " \Vha-a-at ?" " Turn der garten-hose on for apoud four hours in der morning, und den pile a lot ohf plack dirt all arount, und shprinkle mit inseg'-powter all ofer der top " " Sir-r-r ?" " Shprinkle mit insegt-powter all ofer der top. You know- usually id is noddings but pugs dot " '• How dare you ? What do ,ou mean by using such language ?" " Noddings but pugs dot chenerally causes der trou- bles ; und den you vant to vash der rose mit a liquid WISHES HE IL\D NEVER BEEN BORN. m H.A.RRY Upstart — '• Well, this is the day I throw up my job. I realize ihat it will be hard to fill my place, but you have never appreciated my ability ; so I am goi;ig to make money for myself instead of piling it lip for you." breparations I haf for sale " " Who in the world are you, anyway ?" " Gottfried Gluber, der florists." "O-o-oh !" weakly. " Good-bye !" Sambo in the Storm. jlHEN de big clouds dark de sky, An' de crows begin to fly ; When a mewl prick up his ears — Dat's de time a niggah skeers. \\Tien de lightnin' make a streak 'Crost de fiel' an' down de creek ; When de thunder growl an' roll — Good Lawd, save a niggah's soul 1 When de screech-owl bulge his eyes Ten times bigger dan dar size ; When de tree-tops swing an' bend — Good Lawd, be de niggah's friend. When de winds in canebrakes roar, When de rains break loose an' pour. When de debit turn out wild — Good Lawd, hope dis niggah child. <( His Estimate. OU used to tell me I was birdlike," complains the fond wife. The brutal husband continues to bury his nose in the paper. " You used to tell me I was birdlike," repeats the fond wife, " but now you never act as if you thought so." " You're still birdlike," growls the brutal husband. " One wouldn't think you thought so, to judge by " " Isn't a parrot a bird ?" WHEN the red-haired young lady goes out for a stroll No longer a white horse with dread fills her soul. But oh, what unspeakable joy does she feel At the sight of a snowy-white automobile ! In business for himseJl^ A Costly Oversight. Kir by — "Poor Benedict thought two could live as cheaply as one." Corby — "Dis- covered h i s mis- take, eh ?' Kir by — ' Sure ! He entirely over- looked the bar- gain days." Misnomers. ^^s^ How often do we ' ' witness Quite a run on walking-canes! And who finds ac- commodation In accommoda- tion trains? Harry Upstart (a year later) — " Are you in need of an office-boy, sir?" r At a Revival. THE parson, after a sermon of fiery eloquence, exhorting the congregation to accept the spirit of the Lord and be saved, concluded his ser- mon by inviting every one to come forward for prayer, and all did so except Farmer Jones, who remained in his seat. There was a moment of awkward silence. " Mr. Jones," said the parson in his mos persuasive manner, " won't you come forward for prayer ?" " No ; guess not," said the farmer quietly. " Don't you want to be born again ?" queried the parson. " Xo, I do not." •' And why not, may I ask ?" " 'Fraid I shoild be a girl." BASEBALL IN FROZEN DOG. Bron'CO Bill — "Lord! Jack's made a glaring error." Grizzly Pete — "Why, de game ain't started yet !" Bronco Bill^— " Nope ; but he's going inter de game without his gun !" BICYCLING TERM, " A paced race." Preceptress (to fair one beginning Virgil)—. " Miss Jones, you may begin." Miss yones — " ' I sing of arms and tlie man' — let me see — ' I sing of arms and the rnan ' " Preceptress — " Well, Miss Jones, what fol- lows ?" Miss Jones (with confidence) — " Oh ! an engagement, I am sure." A Bud of Passage. IJE JOYED that she * ' was back in town. He had resolved to tell his love. To meet her train, he hurried down In ardent haste his fate to prove. "You're glad to be at home ?" His pause She filled as fast as she could speak — " Glad? yes, I'm awfully glad — because We sail for India next week !" Correct. Joties — " In what time does McGovern usually win ?" Bones — " Jig" THE CRY OF THE WEARY. MagGiE — " Ain't it orful de extravagance uv de rich ?" Nora — " Sinful ! I'll bet de money dat young guy wastes on champagne and cigars would keep two or three poor families in mixed ale and terbacker !" His Mission. |m|E gayly sports lUI About the lot. And oft cavorts In joy red-hot To keep in trim His kicking gear For lifting him That ventures Around the bland Sky to gyrate. To scatter and Disintegrate. Friend — " Mar- riage is a lotter)'." Confirmed bach- elor — " Take no chances." (( A RE you a good all-round girl ?" " Shure, mum, it's all round the town Oi've bin in the lasht two months." Mrs. Flynn — "It must hov bin a great blow whin Dinny died, Mrs. Murphy." Mrs. Murphy — " Yis ; but Oi r-remimbered we are all in the hands av an unshcrupulous providince." AN INDUCEMENT. '• Don't cry, litUe boy, and I will give you half of the worm out of this apple." Blibson — " I understand that South American general has resolved to sell his life dearly?" Glibson — " Yes ; he wants ten dollars for the library edition." THE HOG-TR.UN. Tatterden Toran — " Bill 's on de hog-train all right." Westward HoE — -'He is?" Tatterden Toran — " Yes. He's a brakeman on de elevated railroad, down in New York.' (^ -1 3 t- H g g-3 7^ S g about th' ! What do ass buttons TO % 3 O -, c < i: a O^ w p t 3 ^•^ 5 o :: 2 jr c ^»-' s^ G- t; p •-J o ? ^' 9 p^ ^ ? "1 ?? ?^* ^ ft ■^ 2. r»' &. £. ^ H 1 H r] 0) L ^ > 1 ■ h y^ f^ 1 d =^ H rn ^ ^ 3 re fS n H ?r ? K -f c 2 ft ?3 3 W) "' ^ - C/3 :j G- rn "n C ^ =r c n rt) •-h crq o -1 3 Tl C 3 ■-t % a ' 5' °. C ^ 3- 3- cr j; > -■ r --^ cr 'm o a» c c — 3 3 . O O O =r G P [-H a D 3 ST ^ ^ ^ /^ S3" ^% o " " a: Z 3 g s. ^-^'^ o J, T " TO 3 C C S- « P — O TO < — ^ < s ^ ^ 5- 3 5 ?i- S. ^ 3 &= •-1 c (/) I at/) — d c z ■ "TJ ji — a "I cr a* o_ o f > 1-0 P d ?r ^ ;i o 5* CTQ Q, 3 ;? si H £i- ~ = - o c» O ■o ft ? a-^ i4 " m o -J 3 3- I r o O 3 ^ O 2 n •X. W p X rr i-D 3 J— O U) r? =r o •- cr 3 § •-< s; 3 . H M K^ •?■ "E. " -. w 3 p 3. 3 ►Tl ? 3 " ». o 2. x" S^ — "■ — 3 TO V- !" (T) p -^ 3 3 „ (^ -r -" S ? & o :5 rr 3^ a a t ■ ■1 E ■ V3 O < s ■ I rr ^j ay CL C 3_ r ) p Si P- •i' r c o •-1 P rfi "-( a. ^ P 3" P 3 G- 3- c" p a. 3 c o 1 o 3, 3 w q fti ^_^ -r a w m -I Oi 3= n ;S. O O a- 3 crq rp p n fD 3- Hi 2- c 3* 3 r 5- 3 r Q 3.. 0. 3- 8 o 3 t« s v^ ^ 1 5" 3 o rt HH . rrc "" - s ^ ^ a = S2- S^ ?- 5 C ■ ■a p a- o c 0>3> A RELIEF. Tramp — " Lady, I hev no place ter lay me head" Lady — " Pcwr man ! Here is fifty cents for a sofa-pillow,' The World's Cold Wave. Mr. Quiller (the law- yer) — " By the way, I wonder what became of little 'Scrappy' McGin- nis, who used to play ' hookey ' to play baseball when we were back in the little stone school- house ? I'll bet he came to no good end." Dr. Poorpreach (re- gretfully) — " He's now getting ten thousand dol- lars a summer as a base- ball pitcher." From Stake to Steak. jjTHE horse must go." I Full soon he '11 be A figment and a fable. The auto on the road we see. The equine on the table. D Conflicting Emotions. HE two girls — they were schoolmates once and ate ol- ives from the same jar and made fudge over the same gas-jet — the two girls meet after the lapse of years. " Oh, you dear old thing !" is of course the first ex- clamation from each of them. The first confesses, with some embarrassment, that she has not yet been married. " I am married, though," acknowledges the second. " How sweet ! Whom did you marry ?" " Tullyrand Stitchem, the famous ladies' tailor." " Isn't that just grand ? Now you can have your frocks made for nothing." " Yes ; but think what it is to know that your husband is making gowns for other women and may make one of them a handsomer one than he makes you !" At this the first girl is properly sym- pathetic. ES An Acquired Taste. T A luncheon to which little Mary and her mother were invited a peculiar kind of cake, new to the three-year-old, was served. After tasting it thoughtfully she said, " Mother, I wish you'd get the recipe for this." " Why, darling ?" said the gratified hostess. " Do you like it?" " Not at all," answered the cherub decidedly ; " but if mother 'd make it and make it I might learn to like it." He (enthusiastic- ally) — " How true to life Miss Warble sang that coon- song !" She (acridly) — " Well, I should say so ! Why, she was black in the face." HIS SEAT. MosE — "Dat's de bull Jeff swapped his ole mule fer." Pete — "Huh ! Jeff 's got a seat on de stock-exchange.' THE SMART SET. " How am vo'r bloomin' bride segastiatin' dis mawnin', sah ?" , ,, „ •^ She am fe'elin' quite preposterous, sah. In fact, she am de only toad in de puddle. EXPOSED. There had been a high time at the fashionable sum- mer resort for some weeks, and the hero of it was a man of fascinating appearance and all the usual qualities to be found in the hero of modern fiction. When he smiled all the women were at his feet, and not simply because he was the only good-looking man in the place. The gossips were already be- ginning to whisper and to predict an engagement between him and the belle of the town. They were constantly together, and the story of her heart could be read in her eyes. But the end came at last. One day they were sifling to- gether in a secluded corner, when he pulled his handkerchiet from his pocket and something fell to the floor. The adoring girl immediately grabbed it, saying that she would keep it as a souvenir of him, but when she looked at it their romance was ended. There was no need to be a Sherlock Holmes to know that he was a family man, and, what was even worse, that his home was probably in Brooklyn. The souvenir that she had picked up was a safe- ty-pin. ACCOMPLISHED HIS WISH. To be a big gim Was what he desired, So first he got loaded And then he was fired. ANYTHING FOR A RIDE. Some fresh-air children were staying in a large farm-house on the outskirts of a pretty town. One of the little girls had a bad toothache. It was found neces- sar)- to drive into town with her and have the tooth removed. Next morning two more of the children announced that their teeth ached. They were taken in for treatment. Coming back the older boy was overheard to say, " .Ain't this bully ? I told Jim to come, but he was skeered. Didn't hurt much." Tears sprang to the eyes ot Mrs. A. as she realized, with a gasp, that for the sake of the ride into town the boys had sacrificed their teeth. An omnibus was provided to take the children driv- ing every day after that, and there was not another case of toothache. BUILDING ON SAND. Freddie — '■ What is circumstantial evidence ?" Cobvjigger — " As a general thing it's the theory of an expert, which is proved to be entirely wrong when the truth comes out." IX THE SWTM. "Dat -feller wid de four-in-han' run me off de bridge an' make me 'take water,' an' iaf« som'thin' I neber do if I can help it." I f'> ^:7<:<^7!^;^i THE FIRST LAW OF NATURE. First cucumber — " I say ! what the deuce are you getting into that pickle for?' Second cucumrER — •' Merely as a matter of self-preservation." The New Ceremony. (( IF ANY person," says the judge solemnly, " knows of any reason why this couple should not be divorced, let him now speak or forever after hold his peace." The plaintiff and defendant gaze nervously about the court-room. '■ I object to this ceremony going any further !" cries a person in a rear seat, who springs to his feet. " Why ?" asks the judge. " The woman has no histrionic ability whatever." Sternly the judge orders the bailiff to escort the baffled pair to the door. Culinary. li/HEN first upon a platter ' ' My heart was served to you, The cooking you did flatter Because the dish was new. My heart again did Cupid Serve as a r^chaufce. ^'ou said the cook was stupid To serve it every day. Convinced that he must hide it (ISase use for hearts to stoop), He cut it up and fried it And served it in the soup. Works Both Ways. {< |F ^VE had more money at our command," declare the polar explorers, " we could find the north pole in no time." "If you had more north poles," retort the plutocrats, " you could discover one once in a while, too." Whereat the explorers dis- cover that their compasses have been deflected by the wrong bank-account. (< Did Not Appeal to Him. \JO," SAID the cannibal king ; " I take great pleasure in informing you that I have abandoned my former custom of dining on such sailors as should be sliipwrecked on my island. 1 have lost all liking for them." " Ah ! ' mused the missionary. " The salt has lost its savor." No Trail. (I'THE crime," declares the great detective, " was evidently committed by a woman." •■ Ah !" says the listener. " And do you expect to dis- cover her trail ?" " No," asserts the wise sleuth " And I will tell you why. My deductions impel me to the belief that the w Oman wore a rainy-day skirt." The Difference. I TFE is light as any feather " If we're steering clear ot fogs ; And 'tis only " beastly " weather When 'tis raining cats and dogs. THE SUM.MER MAN AT THE BEACH. He has an eye that seeks the light That shines in lovely faces. And an arm that is successful quite In getting round waist places. ly? MISS KITTY'S PROPOSALS By W. W. AUUCK T HE place is too pitifully prosaic for words," complained Miss Kitty Kildare poutfuUy, tracing on the sand with the point of her pink parasol a most affrightingly grotesque figure ; " here three days and not even a proposal !" She stabbed the beach savagely with the ferrule of her sun shield, then suddenly sat bolt upright in the stationary chair which was hers for the season. The ever-dancing light in the big brown eyes flashed with a swift accession of fire, the parasol dropped from her dimpled fingers, and she sat with her bare elbows resting on her knees, staring intently into the boisterous sea. Then slowly she rose, gathering up her skirts and tread- ing daintily across the strip to the short boardwalk which led to the road, noting not the laughing bathers in the surf or the tanned loungers on the shore. "Not a bad-looking girl, that Miss Kildare," mused Montgomery, the big-bodied young broker, watching her from his seat 'neath the arbor. " I must find more time for cultivating her." " Regular picture-girl," decided little Stewart, the law- yer ; " she blends beautifully with that gentle ocean breeze. Guess I'll see a bit more of her." Meantime, Miss Kildare gained the roadway and stepped into the dog-cart drawn by the fat little pony Pronto, so called on account of his undeviating dislike of fast motion. It is to be said of Pronto, the pony, that not only did he regard the frequently posted warnings as to illegal speeds — he actually anticipated them. And so it was that Miss Kildare reached the hotel not so soon as she wished, and jumping hastily from the cart, bitterly reproached Pronto for his deliberateness, to the which Pronto responded by showing his teeth in a smile of faint derision. Miss Kildare hurried to her room, sought her writing- desk and wrote rapidly for ten minutes. Then she stretched back in the chair, chewed abstractedly on the end of the penholder and read her composition. In all. she had written two letters, and the first of these was thus: " My dear Mr. Montgomery : I scarcely know how to set about answering you, because the task is certainly the most distasteful I have ever had put to me. The words I should like to use will not come freely, and the words that do suggest themselves are much too hackneyed to be used on such an occasion. Of course I might tell you that I am immensely honored by the offer you have made me, and sincerely regret that I am not able to do as you wish. And, after all, I fancy that is the best thing for me to say. The expression is not new, l)ut it is won- drously true. I do greatly respect you, Mr. Montgomery, and I do very earnestly thank you for asking me to be your wife, but I cannot marry you. You have been so frank and manly with me that I feel a like candor is due you. When I say I do not care for you in that way, it is because I do care for some one else in that way, and this makes me the more considerate of your feelings because that some one has as yet given no sign that the sentiment is mutual. He is all things that are worthy — as a matter of fact, he is staying here for the season, and you must know him and his many fine qualities — and he has won my heart. I do not say this in the spirit to exalt him at this time, but rather because I wish you to know just why I cannot answer you as you wish, and also to prove to you that others suffer in afTairs of this sort besides yourself. I trust that things being as they are will not make any change in our friendship. I respect you highly and shall value your continued acquaintance — but my love is no longer mine to give. Believe me, " Very, very sincerely yours, " K.\THERiNE Kildare." The other letter occupied the same number of pages, as indeed, why should it not, seeing that, word for word, the notes were indentical ? The only difference was in the address. The second epistle started, " My dear Mr. Stewart." Miss Kildare addressed two envelopes, following her critical inspection of her product. The one superscrip- tion was, Mr. Martin Montgomery, The Twiggeries, Iiitportani. Town. As for the other envelope, the legend ran, Mr. Donald Stewart, Hotel Hollyhock, Important. Town. Whereupon, with an inscrutable look in the still danc- ing eyes. Miss Kitty Kildare folded and properly creased the note of rejection to Mr. Montgomery and inclosed it in the envelope directed to Mr. Stewart. This leaving one note and one envelope, Miss Kildare effected a com- bination by placing the letter to Mr. Stewart in the wrap- per marked for Mr. Montgomery, sealed the correspond- ence, and, tripping lightly to the reading-room, dropped both communications in the mail-box and sighed raptur- ously. Mr. Martin Montgomery, at jreakfast next morning, devouring the stock list in the city paper with almost as much relish as he did the porterhouse and grilled eggs, grumblingly laid aside the market report as an attendant handed him a letter. The momentary ill-humor speedily gave place to curiosity as the young broker regarded the envelope. ' " Postmarked here," he commented, " and in the hand- writing of a woman. And "town, too. I don't believe I know any girl here who writes to me." He tore open the envelope in a puzzled sort of waj-, and the air of mystification with which he had received the note heightened as he read the first few lines. Then he laid the letter down and picked up the envelope, which he e.xamined with the utmost care. This, too, he laid down, and for a full minute he regarded the ceiling with an in- tentness which drew out the respectful alarm of the head- waiter. Then he put4he envelope in his pocket and read the letter slowly and painstakingly. After breakfast he walked out in the sycamore grove and dropped into a shaded arbor, where again he read the letter written by Miss Kildare and rejecting Mr. Stew- art. Finally his thoughts took shape. "So little Stewart has been proposing to Miss Kildare, eh ?" he mused. "And been properly turned down, eh ? Well, why not.' What could a goddessy creature like that girl see in a little two-by-four lawyer ? When she marries, I'll bet she marries some man she will have to look up to, a big, athletic fellow who can protect her, a fellow like — well, well, what am I thinking of ? Now, I wonder who the man is she's in love with," thus ran the thoughts of Mr. Montgomery. " She says he's staying here. Why, she's only been here herself three days. She can't have become acquainted with very many. Let's try the process of elimination." Mr. Montgomery thus indulged himself for a few min- utes, when a strange look came into his eyes, a look as of appreciation and quasi-pity and speculation. Gradually the specul?.tion passed away and smug satisfaction reigned. He re-read that portion of Miss Kildare's letter to Stewart dwelling on the loss of the lady's aflTections. " ' He's all things worthy,' eh ? Well, she's a fine little girl, and I'm really sorry for her. Thinks I haven't given any sign of returning her affection, eh ? Poor little thing ! I'll have to be more considerate of her. Of course she is quite right about the sentiment not being mutual, but I can't see a girl like that suffer. 1 11 pay her a little more attention in the future, and I do hope she will get over her infatuation." It will be seen that careful self-examination and a studious reading of the note to Stewart had brought Mr. Montgomery to a position where he could not very well ignore the regrettable effect of his charm. " Now, about this letter," ran on the big bro- ker, " I can't very well send it to Stewart after the seal has been broken, and I don't feel like hand- ing it back to Miss Kildare, because the poor child would be frightfully embarrassed if she knew I had learned her feelings toward me. I fancy Stewart will be hanging around her, any- way, and will get his refusal orally." And with this reflection Mr. Montgomery stuffed the note in his pocket and strolled down toward the beach, where Miss Kitty might rea- sonably be expected to be found. About the time Mr. Montgomery, in the break- fast-room of The Twiggeries, was reading the rejection of .\lr. Donald Stewart, that rising young lawyer was performing a similar service tor Mr. Montgomery. "There is one thing to be said of her," admitted Mr. Stewart, after he had grasped the substance of the note and comprehended that the lady had made a mistake in the inclosures, "she is a girl of a good deal of sense. I am right glad she has sent that long-legged ass Mont- gomery about his business. Now as to this other refer- ence " The legal mind worked fast, the circumstantial evi- dence was strong, and the inevitable conclusion warranted Stewart in stealing a glimpse of his features in the dining- room mirror. "She's just like the rest of them," he thought on, with the petty vanity of a little man. " I can't pay them the slightest attention, but — oh, well, what's the use ? The damage is done now, and it is my place to undo it as far as I can by treating her ir. the manner best calculated to show her the case is hopeless. She will be wise enough to see that it is all for the best." Then another suggestion occurred to the apostle ot Blackstone. If he had in an envelope addressed to him a letter intended for Montgomery, it was logical to suppose that Montgomery had a letter intended tor Stewart, and the latter wondered what it was Miss Kildare had been writing him about. This he would ascertain, and then set about reconciling Miss Kildare to the renunciation she must make. As for Montgomery's letter, Stewart- would retain that. He was too good a lawyer to voluntarily part with important documentary evidence. Having settled THE ONLY CONTINUOUS VAUDEVILLE. ^? THE UNCERTAINTIES OF GOLF. ' I drove a ball over in this direction. Did you see where it landed?" ■ No ; but I can put my hand on the spot." i these matters to his satisfaction, he climbed into a Hotel Hollyhock vehicle and was driven to the beach. Miss Kitty Kildare sat in her beach-chair, just at the ^i\^ft of the arbor, tracing in the glistening white sand with the point of her parasol, the subjects being Cupids and hearts and doves, with due allowance for the lady's originality of conception and limitations of e.xecution. A few chairs away, pleasantly out of earshot, taking into ac- count the friendly murmur of the sea, Miss Kitty's aunt, Mildred, dozed luxuriously and decorously. Miss Kitty was not bathing, because one cannot be beautiful and bathe at one and the same time, no matter what the sentiment- alists maytell you. If you have hair and let it fall down your back, you will be a spectacle two minutes after the sea has drenched you. And if you confine your hair under one of those red, white, or blue rubber caps, the effect is not inspiring. It is far and away the part of wisdom to sit daintily on the beach, clad all in white, from ties to straw hat, looking as fresh as the morning and as cool as the waters of a mountain spring — that is, if there is a task before you requiring delicacy of handling. And, as a matter of fact, such a self-appointed task lay directly ahead of Miss Kitty Kildare, and even now ap- proached her, in the somewhat puffing person of good Master Donald Stewart. The young man gave an execrable imitation ot surprise at the sight of the all-white vision in the beach-chair, paused as if he reallv had been intending to pass on to the other end of the bathing-ground, and then remarked that the day was fine but a bit sticky. Miss Kildare explained that this was the humidity, and expressed the opinion that the proper place for water was in the sea and not in the air. Mr. Stewart agreed with this very reasonable view and was invited to sit beside Miss Kildare. " In fact," said the lady, " I have something to say to you. I alinost wrote you a note about it yesterday. I got as far as the envelope, then I thought I would wait until I saw you, for there really was no need of haste." " So she directed an envelope to hrie and it lay there when she had finished Montgomery's letter," thought Stew- art. "That accounts for it." Then he asked what had been the purport of the note that was never written. " Aunt is going to get up a yachting party for me," explained Miss Kildare, " and she doesn't know very much about these things, for nearly all her life has been spent in inland cities, where they do not yacht. And I don't know much about it, either. So we thought we would ask your advice, because everyone says you are such an experienced sailor." "She has noted every one of my likes and peculiari- ties," thought Stewart compassionately. "She is really a very pretty girl." Which utterly disconnected ideas were followed by his reply that he would consider the major domo-ing of Miss Kildare's yachting party the proudest privilege of his life. Miss Kildare thanked him very prettily and smiled, and Mr. Stewart noted that her teeth .were as milky and regular as the white keys on a piano. " See here, boy," counseled Mr. Stewart to him- self, "you've been losing a lot of time. This young lady is worth the most assiduous cultivation." Whereupon he made himself very agreeable, and in thus pleasing Miss Kitty immensely pleased himself, which is ever the aim of his kind. So absorbed, indeed, were the merry pair that they did not notice that for the last quarter of an hour Mr. Martin Montgomery had been stalking up and down the sand, casting now and again a furtive glance in their direction. " Silly little'shrimp," growled the broker ; " he wouldn't be laughing quite so heartily if he knew what I have in my pocket. And how well the girl carries it off. She must be surprised that Stewart has sought her out after she had dismissed him, but she is such a thoroughbred she accepts the situation with the greatest grace. J sup- pose she thinks Stewart has decided to accept the advice she gave him about friendship and all that. But I'll bet I wouldn't go hanging around a girl who had turned me down. But oh, lie doesn't know he's been refused," thought Montgomery, with a start. " Say, this is getting somewhat complicated. I wish he'd get through. . I want to talk to her myself. She looks glorious this morning. There, some one has called him away." And the coast being clear, Montgomery, without too much haste, made his way over to where Miss Kildare sat, a picture of demure serenity, with the possible exception of a light which danced out now and then from the glori. ous brown eyes and transformed her into a veritable imp of mischief. Kitty greeted the tall broker cordially, and expressed a growing belief in the hidden, the mystic, and the incomprehensible. . THE ALTAR. Said the sweet and single maiden, ' ' Will you tell me, if you can, Why the lovingest of lovers Is no sooner wedded than He becomes the careless husband Of the niatrimonial plan?" " Oh, it is the marriage alter!" Said the bitter married man. THE OBJECTIONS OF A CANNIBAL. '• Brother, why do you object to Christianity ?" " Because I 've always found it hard to keep a good man down." " Because," she said, " I was thinking of you at the very minute you appeared. Is that mental, telepathy, or thought transference, or Christian science, or what ?" " I don't know the scientific term," said Montgomery, with easy gallantry, " but I should unhesitatingly charac- terize it as delightful to be thought of by MisS' Kildare." " Yes, indeed," went on the lady, ignoring the compli- ment ; " I was thinking about you just now, and I was thinking about you yesterday. There was something I wanted to ask you about, and I even set out to write you a note. I got as far as the envelope, and then something distracted my attention." " That was hardly fair to me," suggested Montgomery. " It was a letter just handed me," said the girl, " an.d it required an early answer. When I remembered about you, I decided I would wait and speak to you, as I thought surely you would be on the beach." " With such an attraction," said Montgomery, " the beach ought to play to capacity. May I ask what it was you were going to ask me ?" "Why, you see," said the girl, "auntie and I want to get up an amateur theatrical entertainment for charity, and we don't know much about the details of manage- ment. Everybody says you're a splendid amateur stage manager, and we wanted to ask if you would take charge of the affair for us." " You are doing me a positive favor when you suggest it," said Montgomery warmly. And he added mentally, " How graceful she is ! she would make an ideal Juliet — and I should like to play Romeo to her !" Then they fell to discussing the plan, and were deep in the details when Stewart came hurrying away from the interrupting friends. "Well," he stormed, "just see that lumbering Mont- gomery paying attention to that pretty girl ! I never saw such assurance in my life. I fancy a sight of a certain letter would take the conceit jut of him." And the little /^/ lawyer walked over to the pair, because he was not going to resign any of his rights to a man who was not even a rival. The gentlemen greeted each other with distant po- liteness, and the talk, perforce, became general. When Montgomery caught a darting glimpse from the big, brown eyes he read the message, " What an awful bore this little man is ; I wish he would go, so we could resume our intimate talk." And when the brown eyes favored Stewart with a swift, comprehending glance, he interpreted it, "Now, why couldn't that fellow have stayed away? We were having such a delightful time together." Neither gentleman showing signs of retreat, and the conversation by now having become practically a mono- logue by Miss Kildare, the situation was rapidly becom- ing strained, as they say in diplomatic circles, when Aunt Mildred providentially awakened, and the girl, excusing herself, hastened over to her relative. Then Mr. Mont- gomery strolled south along the beach and Mr. Stewart strolled north along the beach, and Miss Kitty Kildare explained to her aunt that they were going to have a de- lightful time, for Mr. Stewart was going to arrange a yachting party for them, and Mr. Montgomery would get up some amateur theatricals. The yachting party was a merry affair, particularly for Miss Kitty and Mr. Stewart. The latter was full of im- portance in his new flannels, and looked more than ever like a fat Brownie. He moved over the boat with an air of proprietorship, tenderly solicitous of the comfort of all the ladies, with an especial watchfulness as regarded the wants of Miss Kildare. Of all the party, Mr. Montgomery alone was gloomy. He stalked about like the ghost at the banquet, and experienced Cain-like feelings as he beheld the favor in which Stewart was esteemed. " Of course I'm not in love with the girl or anything like that," argued Montgomery, "but still I can't bear to see her wasting her time on that little apology for a man." In the blue and white of her yachting costume Miss Kitty looked ravishing, and there was small cause for wonder that she should be the centre of attraction. It was long before the chafing Mont- gomery could manage a word in private with her, and then, throwing caution to the breezes, he spoke freely of the situation. " I have been trying all day to get speech with you," he said, " but you have been so busy listening to what Mr. Stewart has been saying you haven't had time for any one else." " Oh, but you mustn't say anything against Mr. Stewart," said the girl gently. " Now, see here," said Montgomery masterfully, " you don't care for Stewart, and you know it." " But Mr. Stewart — ca — that is, Mr. Stewart is very nice to me, and you have to be nice to persons who are nice to you. don't you ?" "You mean Stewart cares for you," said Mont- gomery rapidly. " I know he does. But what then ? Others care for you, too." " Oh, I don't know," said Miss Kildare dreamily. "You do know," contradicted Montgomery. "You must know. Oh, Kitty, I " • "There," said Kitty, moving away, "my Aunt Mil- dred is calling me," and she left Montgomery savagely kicking an unoffending coil of rope. Next day Montgomery proposed, and was told to wait ; he should have his answer in a little while. And very impatiently he waited. The preparations for the theatri- cals helped some, just as again they combined to fill the soul of Montgomery with added anxiety. The rehearsals brought Kitty .very close to him, and of course this was most desirable, but at the same time there was the un- certainty. If Kitty should refuse him the present propin- quity would have been but an extra cause for regret. On the whole, however, Montgomery, in daily possession of Kitty, was in a position more enviable than was Stewart. The lawyer, since the day of the yachting party, had come to regard Kitty's affection for him as an understood thing, else why should she have elevated him as she had dono ? But now, here were these confounded theatricals coming on and taking up all her time, and throwing her constantly into the society of Montgomery. Finally Stew- art pocketed his pride and applied to the stage-manager for a place in the cast. " All right," said Montgomery cheerily, " I've got just the part left that will suit you." " What is it ?" asked Stewart eagerly. " Well, you know," said Montgomery, "in the second act there is a scene on the dock of an ocean liner. She is just about to sail away. There are a number of bearded A FONETIC ADVANTAGE. " There's wan foine thing about this focmatic shpellin' — a man kin come home full as a goat an' wroite jist as siiisihle a siipelt letter as he kin whin he's sober." THE BACHELOR'S WONDER. Fair maid, in all your many guises, In any hat, whate'er the size is, In winter garb, chic, tailur-shaped. Or summer frou-frou, gauzes, draped. Your charm ne'er fails. One thought arises- We wonder, wonder what the price is, And if we Could finance so much finery. the slightest' regard for grammar ; " me be a bearded old salt and let you knock me over the head ! You must think I'm crazy 1" and he walked away muttering strange things. "Now, there's an unreasonable fellow," murmured Montgomery; "give him a nice fat part that anybody would jump at the chance of playing, and what does he do? Goes up in the air. There's no pleasing some per- sons." " Going to play the hero himself, is he ?" thought Mr. Stewart, smarting under his wrongs. " And that will give him the chance to make love to Kitty." For some time past Mr. Stewart had been thinking of Miss Kildare as " Kitty." " He doesn't seem to understand that his society is distasteful to the lady and that she loves an- other. And she, poor girl, thinking he knows her senti- ments, is just treating him with common politeness." Mr. Stewart's steps led him to the hotel where Miss Kildare and her aunt were staying, and though the young lady was very busy reading her part, she gave him an audience. Wasn't Mr. Stewart going to be in the play ? No ; Mr. Stewart wasn't going to be in the play. And without more ado Mr. Stewart gave it as his opinion that Mr. Montgomery, in the allotment of the parts, was guided less by motives of art than by considerations of crafti- ness. " Now, please don't say such things," begged Miss Kildare. " Mr. Montgomery is a very nice man, I'm sure, and always doing things for people." " He may be always doing things for you," said Stew- art ; " but that is very easy to understand. But you don't care for him. I know you don't." " I don't see how you can know that," said Miss Kil- dare. " Besides, I have just told you I thought him very nice. " " Other persons would be glad to be always doing things for you," went on Mr. Stewart tenderly, and then his soul rushed forth, for he said, " Oh, Kitty, dear, they won't let me play the hero in this stupid little piece, but won't vou let me play it with you for ail time .'" " Are you asking me to marry you ?" queried Kitty. "Why, yes," said Stewart in some surprise. And he, too, was told to wait. old salts sitting on the string-piece. Just as the last warning whistle is being sound- ed the hero appears and dashes toward the gangplank. One of the old salts has risen to walk away, and the hero, in his rush to make the ship, collides with him and topples him over in the water." " Ah," said Mr. Stewart amiably, " my part is the hero, eh?" " Why, no," explained Mr. Montgom- ery ; " I have been cast for that part my- self. You are the old salt who gets top- pled over in the water. It's a splendid, comedy part and good for a big laugh." Mr. Stewart wondered if he had heard aright. " Who, me ?" he sputtered, without FELLOW clTi2.eMi,i VrtweeFO' ME A VAST SEA OF BRIGHT FACES :; ' : *ar^^ GEOGRAPHICAL— THE BLACK SEA. ' "+ ^ After the amateur theatricals each man was more hope- lessly in love than ever, and even Kitty began to experi- ence the qualms of pity. "Of course they deserved it," reasoned the girl, " but I think they've been punished sufficiently." So she wrote a note to Stewart, making an appointment at her hotel for three o'clock, and a similar note to Montgomery, appointing ten minutes past three as the time she would give her decision. Then, to carry the little comedy to a conclusion, she wrote two other notes and left them with the clerk at the desk, saying one was to be handed Mr. Stewart, and the other given to Mr. Montgomery when those gentlemen should call. The note to Mr. Stewart read : " At the last minute I find I cannot say to you what is in my mind, and I am going to ask you to speak with Mr. Montgomery when you see him. He will explain to you' certain things which have a direct bearing on your offer." The other note was the same, save for the transposi- tion of names. Mr. Stewart, promptly at three of the clock, appeared at the hotel, and was given the note by the clerk. He couldn't quite make out the meaning of the communica- tion and retired to a corner to re-read it. As he was puz- zling it out Montgomery hurried in, got his note and looked properly mystified. Then he caught sight of Stew- art in the corner, and advancing, opened the conversation in the most direct way. " Mr. Stewart," he said, " I have called to-day to get from Miss Kildare an answer to a question I asked her some time ago. I find a note from her saying you will give me that answer." A slow grin widened the cherubic face of Mr. Stewart as he listened. Then he said briefly, " I will," and he searched through his pockets till he found Miss Kildare's letter rejecting Mr. Montgomery. SOMETHING HARD TO BEAT. Montgomery read with a clouded brow. The commu- nication bore the date of a month ago. As he read Stew- art's grin grew even more expansive. " Now, you see," said that gentleman, the thought of the offer of the part of a bearded old sea-dog strong upon him, "now you see why Miss Kildare can't marry you." " I don't know how you got hold of a letter addressed to me," said Montgomery, "and I don't understand why the date " " Don't try to," advised Stewart. " But see here ; Miss Kildare has also written me that if I ask you, you can tell me something about her sentiments toward me." " Oh, yes," said Montgomery slowly ; " for a minute I had forgotten. Maybe you will be interested in reading this," and he handed the lawyer Miss Kildare's rejection of the month before. For fully five minutes the men sat and stared, then, " Stewart," said Montgomery, " there's a train into town at four-fifteen. I think I'll take it. Do you want to come along ?" "I'll go you," said Mr. Stewart, and they left the hotel together. Modern Therapeutics. I WENT to a modern doctor to learn what it was was wrong. I'd lately been off my fodder, and life was no more a song. He felt of my pulse as they all do, he gazed at my outstretched tongue ; He took off my coat and weskit and harked at each wheezing lung. He fed me a small glass penstalk with figures upon the side. And this was his final verdict when all of my marks he'd spied : " Do you eat fried eggs? Then quit it. You don't? Then hurry and eat 'em, Along with some hay that was cut in May — There are no other foods to beat 'em. Do you walk ? Then stop instanter — For exercise will not do For people with whom it doesn't agree — And this is the rule for you : Just quit whatever you do do And begin whatever you don't ; For what you don't do may agree with you As whatever you do do don't." Yea, thus saith the modern doctor, "Tradition be double durnedl What the oldsters knew was nothing compared to tlie things we've learned. There's nothing in this or that thing that's certain in every case Any more than a single bonnet 's becoming to every face. It's all ni the diagnosis that tells us the patient's fix — The modern who knows his business is up to a host of tricks. Do you eat roast pork? Then stop it. You don't? Then get after it quickly. For the long-eared ass gives the laugli to grass And delights in the weed that's prickly. Do you sleep with the windows open ? Then batten them good and tight And swallow the same old fetid air Through all of the snoozesome night. Just quit whatever you do do And do whatever you don't ; For what you don't do may agree with you As whatever you do do don't." STRICKLAND W. GlLLILAN. H-^ Cupid's THEY had quarreled. The cold steel shaft from the arc- light penetrated the shadows of the porch and showed that she had been weeping. As for him, big, broad-shoul- dered brute ! he chewed fiercely on his black cigar and gazed sullenly into the darkness. She was the first to '• I will never marrj' you now — oh, no, if you should beg me on your knees ! I hate you !" " And I shall never forgive you — no, not even when my bones bleach in the dust and snails crawl through my skull." " Ugh ! You are horrible —you are callous !" " It is such women as you that make men callous." " And it is such brutes as you that make women indif- ferent to everything. I shall never speak to you again !" " Very well. I shall feel free." " Oh, how I hate you !" " Pray do not overtax your emotions on my account." " My emotions ? I have no emotions. I am absolutely without feeling, and you have made me so." ••That's right. Just like a woman — blame the man for everything." '• Man ? I hope you do not call yourself a man ?" •' Well, no. Perhaps I am only an apology for a man." '• And to think I once allowed myself to love an apology for a man !" "Well, come to think of it, you were very willing to accept an apology." "I would resent your insults, but I have taken a vow never to speak to you again. Now remember— never again !" Ten minutes of silence ensued ; then he spoke. •• Helen !" " You dare to have the face to speak to me after all that ?" "Yes. Er — the drug-store down the street has a new soda-fountain." " What have I to do with that ?" Tempest. •• And it looks just like a Greek temple." •• Well ?" " And they have twenty-four different flavors." "My!" "Will — will you come down^ Helen, and — and have a glass on me ?" She thought of the Greek temple, and visions of the twenty-four flavors flitted through her mind and drove away the tears. "Yes, George," she whispered as she crept closer; '• but — but remember, I shall never speak to you again — . no, never !" And the moon came out from behind a cloud and swain in the open blue. victor a. Hermann, Rather. I "THE prediction having failed dismally, the ancient Ro- mans were cackling merrily upon the Appian Way. " Don't tell me !" shrilled one. " These newfangled ways of predicting things may be scientific, but this goes to show that even science has its faults." " It occurs to me," observed Claudius Comedius, "that if this sort of thing keeps up it will put the augur in the hole, so to speak." Didn't Wish To Be Disturbed. Mistress — " I am sorry to trouble you, Bridget, but my husband wants his breakfast to-morrow at five-thirty." Cook — " Oh, it won't be no throuble at all, mum, if he don't knock nothin' over whoile cookin' it an' wake me up." His Reason. Johnny — " Mamma, when I grows up I wants to be a saint." Mother — " Oh, you darling ! And why ?" Johnny — "Why, I was reading that boys never gro.vs up to be what they wants to be." Little Willie's Surprise. UR. AND MRS. BLANK recently moved from the city to the suburbs. The first night in their new home their five-year-old son climbed into bed as soon as he was un- dressed. •' Willie," said his mother, " haven't you forgotten to say your prayers ?" " Why, mamma," he re- plied, " is God 'way out here, too ?" A SHINING EXAMPLE. Boy — " Pop, what's a bachelor?" Pop — " A bachelor, my son. is a man whom nature has set up as a shining example of what good luck can do for an individual." New Yorker — " What's the use of running ? You say the train never leaves on time." Suburbanite — " It would if we walked." ^7 Wa^^lcy's White Elephant By Will S. Gidlcy WAGGLEY gave a gasp of surprise. Scarcely could he credit the mes- sage that his optic nerve sent flashing to the brain. Again he scrutinized the narrow strip of paper that had fallen from the envelope and was lying before him, face upward on his desk. Yes ; wildly improbable as it seemed, he had read the figures aright. The check was for one thousand dollars — whew ! just think of it ! — an even thousand dollars, " in payment (as the accompanying note ran) of prize awarded to your delightfully clever little story entitled, ' The Bumptiousness of John Q. Bump. Waggley picked up the check and carefully examined the back of it as if fearing he might find written thereon a line explaining that it was all a joke — a piece of " All Fools' Day " humor. But no ; although the date was April ist the back of the check bore no jocular explanatory inscription, no merry "April fool, ha, ha!" or other seasonable witticism, but still remained in unsullied purity, awaiting only the hiero- glyphics that stood for the signature of Willis J. Waggley to make it negotiable for its face value of one thousand dollars. As he gazed enraptured upon this pleasing document Waggley 's mouth expanded in a smile so broad and so Hoosac tunnel-like in its general tout ensemble that his ears actually seemed to shrink back as if in alarm at their possible fate. Presently his pent-up emotions found vent in speech. " Haw, haw, haw !" he roared with a voice like a fog- horn on a February morning. " That was a lucky Bump for me. Well, I should smile !" And he did — the sort of a smile t-hat declines to come off. See description above. " Yes, indeed ; I bumped the bumps to some purpose that time. Just think of it — one thousand big, cart-wheel dol- lars, and all in one wad at that, for a twenty-five-hundred- word story about my old friend, John O. Bump and his load of bumptiousness! Mighty fine thing I discovered Bump first. Why, at that rate he'll be a regular Klon- dike. Hurrah for Bump ! Hip, hip,' hurrah !" In the exuberance of his joy Waggley got up from his desk and essayed a handspring. It had been several years since he had attempted a feat of this sort, therefore it was not to be wondered at that the venture was not wholly a success. As it was, Waggley raked the mantel clear of bric-&- brac, both ornamental and useful, with his feet, and then came to the floor with a crash that shook the building and brought the landlady up stairs on a jump to see what had happened. " For mercy's sake !" she ejaculated, opening the door and sticking her head inside. "Why, Mr. Waggley, what does this performance mean ? Really, I am aston- ished and shocked to see you in this condition." " What condition ? What do you mean ?" demanded Waggley, struggling bravely to his feet and facing the landlady, with the expansive smile still illuminating his countenance in spite of his downfall. " Appearances are frequently deceptive, Mrs. Flapjack, and they never were more so than they are in the present instance. I am not drunk, Mrs. Flapjack, as you doubtless imagine — that is, not in the ordinary and vulgar acceptation of the term. Oh, no ; I'm simply intoxicated with joy. I've just re- ceived a thousand-dollar check from the Magnet for one of my stories, and — eh ? what's that ?" But Waggley's landlady had hastily backed out of the room and was on her way down stairs shaking her head and muttering, " Crazy as a loon ! Poor fellow, I feel sorry for him, but with his imagination he ought to write better fiction than he does. I think I see him getting a thousand dol- lars for one of his stories. Ten dollars would be more like it. But he'll pay for the things he's smashed, just the same, when he settles his board bill Saturday night." And he did. But that is only a detail and has nothing to do with the rest of the story. " How will you have it ?" asked the paying-teller of the 'Steenth National Bank when Waggley loomed up at his window the next day and presented the Check for pay- ment. " Big bills, please — the bigger the better," responded Waggley, with a complacent smile. The paying-teller smiled, too, as he reached over, and, picking up a single bill from a pile of crisp bank-notes, handed it through the wicket to his waiting customer. "That big enough for you ?" he queried with a sar- castic chuckle. "Just right," was the response. "What I was look- ing for exactly. Don't care for a lot of chicken feed to lug around. When I have money I want it in one lump, so I can take care of it without too much exertion. Be- sides, I've got just a few friends I'd like to astonish. Guess their eyes will look like Bermuda onions when I flash this bill on them." As Waggley passed out of the bank he felt as if he were walking on air. Permeating his being was a curi- ous sense of elation — a sort of independent, millionairy feel- ing, such as Pierpont Morgan or John D. Rockefeller might be suppo'sed to have, as they sit comfortably en- sconced on their towering pyramid of dollars and com- placently gaze down on the struggling masses below (he toilers who labor with their hands for a living. At best, man — the ordinary, two-legged man — is a strange creature, a poor, weak atom of humanity, the helpless victim of his own vagrant moods and impulses, " pleased with a I'attle and tickled with a straw," as the divine William expresses it. Queer what a difference a little strip of paper with a few figures and other printed matter on it makes in one's outlook on life ! Still, it is not so much to be wondered at after all. An author with a thousand-dollar check in his pcKket — received as compensation lor one short story — can afford to be cheerful. Waggley was not only cheerful, but beaming. Some men, under the circumstances, would have been tempted to incarnadine the town, but Waggley did his painting only in fancy. To his pleased and glowing imagination everything now possessed a roseate hue, and he saw Fame and Fortune (both with a big F, Mr. Compositor, if you please !) almost within his grasp — or at least not over a mile and a half away. At this auspicious moment ^Vaggley ran into an old friend and fellow-author named Beazley — Junius. Brutus Beazley, for long. Ought to have been an actor with that tag on him, but he wasn't. He belonged to the Joke- Wrights' Union and wiote chopped-off witticisms and so- ciety verse for the periodicals and a living, sometimes making as much as fifteen per — per day understood, o' course. " Hello, Wagg !" greeted Beazley. " How's everything ?" •'Never better," responded Waggley. " Just raked in a thousand-dollar prize for a short story." " That's right ; tell a good one while you're about it,' said Beazley jealously. " But, say, Wagg, what's the use of stopping at a measly thousand ? Why not make it five and have done with it ? You are altogether too modest." "Yes," admitted Waggley; "modesty is one of my strong points, and truthfulness is another. I said a thou- sand dollars because that is the correct amount of the bonus received in payment for my literary bantling, and, furthermore, I happen to be provided with the documents necessary to prove my assertion. How does this one strike you, for instance ?" Here Waggley yanked the thousand-dollar bill from his pocket and dangled it in front of Beazley 's astonishing optics. " Speechless, eh ? I thought you would be," gloated Waggley. " That's what I'm carrying this bill around for — to astonish my friends and confound my ene- mies. Oh, I'll get slathers of enjoyment out o sand-dollar shinplaster yet before I part with it." And he did, after a fashion. In fact, Waggley put in the most of his time for the next few days extracting en- joyment, or attempting to, at least, from that pleasing specimen of government lithography. He worked at it so con- stantly and persistently that he made a paripatetic nuisance of himself, and it finally got so that his friends and acquaint- ances would promptly vanish around the comer to avoid meeting him when they saw him coming. The fun palled on Waggley, too, after a while, and he stopped showing the bill to anyone except himself. It seemed "good to look at it once in a while, though the feeling of elation over its possession no longer kept him awake nights. One day, greatly to Waggley 's surprise. when he opened his pocket-book, he found he had only a solitary nickel in cash left outside of that thousand-dollar greenback. The surprise gave way to a feeling of annoy- ance and disgust when he reflected that he waS at that moment twenty miles from a bank where he could get a bill of that denomination changed, and that he was aboard of a trolley-car which was carrying him still farther away as rapidly as possible. He was, as it happened, on his way to Pineville Junc- tion, in the wilds of Westchester county, to hunt up a sum- mer boarding-place. It would require two more five- cent fares to carry him through to his destination ; and somehow Waggley couldn't help wondering what he was going to do when his last nickel was gone. True, he had the thousand-dollar bill, but if the con- ductor didn't drop dead from heart disease at the sight ot it he would probably decline to change a bill of that size ; or, if he did change it, he would give him all dimes and nickels, and then he w-ould be worse off than ever. W'aggley was still frantically clawing around in his mind in search of some way out of the rapidly-approach- ing dilemma, when the conductor came through the car and halted in front of him, with extended palm. " Fare, please." Waggley handed over his final nickel. " Going through to the Junction ?" demanded the con- ductor. Waggley g^ve a guilty start. " Why — er — yes ; I expect to if nothing happens," stam- mered the flustered Waggley. " Cost you five cents more, then. Might as well pay it now and save me the trouble of coming around again after it \V.\ITER CfSTOMER — as possible." LOOKING FOR QUANTITY. Two high-balls, sir? Yes, sir." And say, waiter, just make those high-balls as wide f ¥ 7 " I'm sorry," said Waggley apologetically, " but— er — I'll either have to hang you up for a nickel until I see you again or let you change a big bill." " You can't hang me up fer no nickel, mister ; I'll tell you that to start with," growled the conductor. " I can't afford any luxuries of that kind on my salary. Trot out your bill. If it ain't anything more than a sawbuck I can cover it all right." Waggle^- took the thousand-dollar bill from his purse, carefully unfolded it and offered it to the collector of fares. •' Holy smoke !" erupted that individual. " Do you think I am running a United States sub-treasury on wheels ? Imagine I've got all my pockets stuffed with ten- and twenty-dollar bills ? Got an idea that I'm a William K. Vanderbilt or a George Gould running a trol- ley-car fer the benefit of my health ? Take me fer a Wall- street syndicate ? Hey, what ? And how do I know but what your old government chromo is a counterfeit, any- how ?" " I'm sorry — er " " Mebbe you be," interrupted the conductor. " But that won't save you from hoofing it the rest of the way to PineviUe Junction all the samey, unless you cough up an- other nickel. You've paid to Shadyside, and that's where you climb off or git the g. b., and I'll give you e.xactly two seconds to take your pick which it's going to be after we git there. Understand ?" Waggley intimated that he did. And when the car made its next stop and the conductor shouted, " All out for Shadyside !" he hastily gathered up his gripsack and umbrella and dropped off. After the car had passed on out ot sight Waggley began to take stock of his surroundings. Shadyside was only a small village, consisting of some twenty or thirty buildings all told, one of which was a general store, and another a rather lonesome-looking railroad station, size 12x14. " Mighty interesting time of it trying to get a thousand- dollar bill changed in this town, I imagine," remarked Waggley as he gazed gloomily up and down the street. " Guess twenty would be nearer the size. Money is a mighty handy thing to have with you when you are trav- eling, but not in quite such large-sized chunks. Here I am with a thousand-dollar bank-note in my pocket and I've got to walk the rest of the way to Pineville Junction because I can't pay my car-fare ! " Talk about the fix old Midas found himself in with his golden touch ! I don't see but what I'm just about as badly off as he was ; I can't buy even a nickel's worth of transportation with this bill, and no doubt if I were on the verge of starvation I might stay there or go ahead and starve to death for all the assistance this piece of paper would be to me. " I felt rather proud of my thousand-dollar bill when I first began carrying it around and exhibiting it to my friends, but it's a mighty lucky thing for me I never hap- pened to show it when the fool-killer was around, or I'd been a goner ! "Seven dusty miles from my destination and nothing smaller than a thousand-dollar William. Great Peters ! what a fix to be in ! I wonder, if I called a mass-meeting of the citizens of this delightful burgh, whether the entire crowd would be able to furnish change for this confounded bill .? Probably not. The only thing to do is to walk and pretend that I like it." And walk he did, reaching Pineville Junction two hours and a half later, footsore, travel-stained and dis- gusted. There was only one hotel in the place, a big, rambling structure known as the Wayside Inn. To this inviting hostelry Waggley wearily wended his way. "Best room in the house and a warm bath !" he lacon- ically ordered after making the usual picture of a picket- fence struck by lightning on the register. "Correct," said the clerk. " No. 19, the bridal cham- ber and bath-room adjoining, Js yours. Five dollars in advance, please." " I wasn't figuring on occupying your bridal chamber, exactly, all by my lonesome on this trip, but I guess I can stand it all right. Just take your change out of that !" and Waggley shoved that thousand-dollar bill across the counter with the air of a man who has collateral to incin- erate. The clerk picked up the bill and glanced at the denom- ination. Then he gave a sudden start, looked up sharply at Waggley and remarked, " Er — um — nothing smaller ?" Waggley truthfully replied that he hadn't. " Er — um — excuse me just a moment, please," and the clerk turned to his desk, picked up a newspaper, hur- riedly scanned its pages until his eye alighted on a cer- tain paragraph, which he carefully went over line by line, glancing at Waggley occasionally as he did so. Just as that gentleman began to manifest signs of im- patience the clerk once more came to the front with the remark, " Er — um^ — sorry to keep you waiting, but " Here he made a quick dive under the counter and as quickly bobbed up again, and the next second Waggley found himself looking down the barrel of a Colt's .44 and heard the crisp and business-like command, " Throw up your hands !" Waggley hurriedly obeyed. " Don't shoot !" he begged, holding both hands as high above his head as possible. " That's '&11 the money I've got, so there's no use of killing me. Good Lord I what kind of a high-handed (the pun was purely acci- dental on Waggley's part) proceeding is this, anyhow ? Can't you rob your customers fast enough in the regular way without holding them up with a gun ?" "That's all right," said the clerk coolly, still keeping Waggley covered with his artillery. " I know what I'm about. And when it comes to a hold-up I reckon you ain't no amateur at it yourself. Pretty slick job you put through up in Connecticut the other night. Oh, you needn't put on an innocent look ! I knew you were one of the gang as soon as I caught sight of this thousand- dollar bill. Look out, there ! Don't go to dropping your hands or reaching for your popgun. Put "em up, higher yet ! That's right ! Now march over to that arm-'chair at your left and sit down ; and be sure to keep your hands up until I tell you different — that is, unless you're anxious to head a small but select funeral procession about day after to-morrow." Not having any aspirations in that direction, Waggley hastily'complied with the orders of the gentleman with the gun, in the meantime dazedly wondering what was going to happen next. He was not kept long in suspense. Calling in one of his assistants, a thick-set, phlegmatic individual who answered to the name of Mike, the clerk ordered him to procure a stout rope and bind Waggley hand and foot. " And be sure to make a thorough job of it, too," he ordered. " He's a dangerous character." "Sure an' he looks it !" commented Mike, glowering at the unfortunate Waggley, who, still seated as he was in the arm-chair, with both hands extended toward the ceiling, looked about as dangerous as a frightened sheep. '• What's the red-handed villain been doin', anyhow^ settin' fire to an orphan-asylum, or only murderin' his mother-in-law ?" " Not quite as bad as that, Mike, but he is a desperate character just the same. He is one of the gang of bur- glars that cleaned out the bank up at Farmersville, Connect- icut, the other night. Among the money stolen was a package of thousand-dollar bills, the paper says, and I've no doubt this chap has got his clothes lined with bills ot that denomination this very minute. He just attempted to pass one of them on me, but he put his foot in a trap that time. As soon as I s aw that bill I suspected righ away who he was and proceeded to capture him. There is a reward of three thousand dollars offered for the arrest of" " May I say a word ?" interrupted Waggley meekly. " Not till I get through !" " Perhaps I can explain if you will allow me." " You'll have a chance when the officers get here. That will be time enough, I guess. Got him securely tied, Mike ?" " Sure thing ! A couple more twists of this rope and he won't know himself from a bale of hay." " All right ; you can stand guard over him vvhile I tele- phone to the sheriff Don't want to take any chances on letting that reward slip through my fingers. I need that three thousand dollars in my business." It was beginning to look pretty dark for Waggley, and he probably would soon have been haled away to a West- chester county dungeon, there to languish until he had proved his innocence, were it not for the fact that at this psychological moment (it may seem like stretching the possibilities, but fact is ever stranger than fiction !) a motor-car bearing the paying-teller of the 'Steenth Na- tional Bank, of New York City, rolled up to the door of the Wayside Inn, and that official, who, luckily for Wag- gley. chanced to be taking a day's outing, dismounted and casually strolled into the very room where Mr. W. was being held a prisoner. Waggley sat up and fairly barked with joy to see him. " Hello, Mac !" he exclaimed — the teller's name was McBride — "just tell this raving lunatic of a hotel clerk who 1 am and how I happened to have a thousand-dollar bill in my possession. You remember that prize check you cashed for me a spell ago? Well, I've got that bill you gave me yet, and just because I attempted to pass it on our friend here he takes me for one of the Farmersville bank robbers and is holding me for a reward." " Ha ! ha ! ha !" roared McBride. " Pretty good joke that. But do you mean to say you've been carrying that altitudinous hill around all this time, wearing it out and drawing no interest on the money ?" " Yes." " Well, if that is the case you're a — a " "I know what you're going to say: I'm a bigger chump than the chap who took me for a bank-burglar ! Correct. I admit it. I'm as many kinds of a durn fool as anybody chooses to call me — at least, I have been, but I think I am getting over it. In fact, I know I am. And now, if you will take that thousand-dollar chromo off my hands and give me small change for it I'll never get into a scrape of this kind again as long as my name is Wag- gley." And up to the present date, be it recorded, Waggley has faithfully kept his promise. The City Bard Speaks. pvE.\R reader (if you read at all), ^^ Can you the good old days recall — The dear old farm in winter time ? The jelly and the pickled lime? The lowing of the bossy cow ? The farm-hand with his cheery "How?" And mother in the kitchen bak- ing pies "like mother used to make " ? The general store where were for sale Dry goods and wet, and where the mail Cime every day at half-past three — Long ere the days of R. F. D. ? The village cut-up, village band ? The miles and miles of fertile land ? The postmaster, the blacksmith, eke Some things of which I cannot speak? For I don't know the proper thing For reminiscent bards to sing. And I was not born in a small Old burg, and I cannot recall The things the poet says of it When he is out to make a hit Alas ! born in a monster city, I can't indite a rural ditty ; I cannot make the tear-drop come By bringing up " The Dear Old Hum." These and more things I cannot do. But, then, I don't much care. Do you ? FRANKLIN p. ADAMS. Proof Positive. The detective — " This is a plain case of suicide. " The-corcner — " How do you know ?" The detective — " Why, here in his hand is the bill for his wife's Easter hat." An Easy Mark. Howell — " Did that fellow who wanted you to invest have a sure thing, as he claimed ?" Powell — " Yes ; I was it." (b I 1. A LAND-BREEZE. " I think she'll go just lovely !" cried little Bobby Carter. A Misunderstanding. " IVIO, Bobby," said mother ; "it is not right * ^ To whine or cry or pout. An angry boy is a shocking sight — I don't want one about. " Now, when you're angry don't scream or roar — I won't have growls and grunts. You may go to your room and shut your door, And stamp your foot just once." When next Bobby felt his temper flare He flew to his room and put, With most extraordinary care, A postage-stamp on his foot ! CAROLYN WELLS. The Englishman's Jest. THE Englishman was a good fellow. He was fully aware of his own shortcomings in the matter of the American joke, but not quite able to apply any remedy that lay at hand for the removal of the cause of the trouble. His American chum was as typical of the witty Yankee as the Englishman was of the dense Briton. One day, when they two were together and none others near, the American sprung that little bit of near-doggerel : " I had a little bird ; his name was Enza. I opened the door and in flew Enza." The Englishman saw the point instantly, and was greatly pleased with himself thereat. Over and over again he repeated to himself, " Influenza, influenza. I'll jolly well remember that good one, now. Influenza, influenza. Really the deucedest best bit I've heard on this side, y'know." The next day, when starting with his American friend to a pink tea or some other such solemn function, the Brit- isher turned to his friend and said. " Oh, I say, old chep ; when they get to telling their riddles and their conundrums and their other bally bits of nons'nse this awfternoon, won't you be good enough to let me — aw — spring that bit you gave me yesterday about the bloomin' bird, y'know ? There's a good chep." " Sure !" said the American, yielding the point cheer- fully and with malicious hopefulness. As the afternoon wore on the foolishest stage of the event came, and conundrums were actually opened up. How much the American friend of the Englishman had to do with steering the conversation into that channel he only knows. At length, in a lull, the Briton piped uji, '• Oh, I say, now ! Did you ever hear this one : " ' I had a bit of a bird ; his nime was — aw — aw — what was the bally beast's nime, now? Uh, yes! His nime was Enza. .\nd every time I opened the door to his cage Lagrippe !' " The only p.erson present who reaily enjoyed the jest and laughed at it with unaffected and intelligent heartiness was the Britisher's American friend. But perhaps he enjoved it enough for the whole company. s. w. g. Defined. ♦* IVJOW, children," said an enthusiastic teacher, "John- nie has spelled ' mite ' correctly and told us that it is a very small object. Can any little boy remember where mite is mentioned in the Bible ?" One small hand was raised and a small voice said, " The pen is miteier than the sword." His Motto. Well-diggeir — " Now, we have found a mighty good vein of water, but there is nothing like being doubly safe and sure of the supply. Suppose we dig it, say, twenty feet deeper .■■" Owner — " No. I have always had for my motto, ' Let well enough alone. '" 2. A L.'^ND-BREEZE. But she began to sail like "sixty" before he reached the water. c 3 • S '■ ■£ 3 n w X H c w H 0* aj o •f *:2 2 ft ■0*8 < EO 1 "I 'l w _ w •J— ►J -< i> < s> s U« (^^z His One Failing. 1 4 THERE'S one thing 1 don't like about Jones." ' "What is it?" " Why, the infernal, half-witted, illiterate slob is always calling somebody names." Just So. COME men are born great, some achieve greatness, and of the others about one in every 1,000,000,000,000,- 000,000 has greatness thrust upon him. The Gift of Speech. Lady — "You said this parrot had the gift of speech. He does nothing but holler and shriek and say nothing." Dealer — " I meant de gift uv ' political speech,' lady." Nipped in the Bud. Jones — " Yes, I intended to buy that shore hotel ; but I went down there and stayed a week to look it over, and " Smith — " Yes ?" . Jones — "And after* paying my bill I no longer had the price of the hotel." The Other Way About. Fidgety commuler — "Say, conductor, these everlast- ing stops drive a nervous person crazy." Cool conductor — "So.' I had only noticed that they made crazy people nervous." The way a miss can fool a mister is a mystery. A NOVICE. "Is Grace very much in love ?" "Terribly. Her first affair, you know. Di^sby and a Button •By Morris Wade WHERE will I find buttons ?" Digsby asked the question with all the respect the size and good looks of the floor-walker demanded from such a small and homely man as Digsby was. " Which ?" replied the floor-walker, looking down on the little man in a patronizing way. " Buttons. Where will I find buttons ?" " In the annex." " And where is the anne.x ?" " Third aisle to the left, down to end of aisle and turn to left. Annex right ahead of you through the arch." Digsby tried to follow these directions but found him- self so balled up that he had to say to a second floor- walker, bigger, better-looking and more toplofty than the first, 1. Where will I find buttons, please ?" "Buttons ?" " Yes — buttons." " Second aisle — left ! What is it, lady ? Small-wares ? Fourth right." A cash-girl, with a huge wad of white gum momen- tarily at anchor between her teeth and displayed to the public, finally led Digsby to the button-counter, where he took a small steel button from the vest pocket into which his wife had slipped it that morning. Showing it to a young woman behind the counter with a pompadour nine inches high and a dog-collar of pearls and diamonds, he asked, " Have you any buttons like this ?" She took the button into her jeweled hand, looked at it and handed it back to Digsby saying, " Third lady down the aisle." The " third lady down the aisle " extended her hand languidly for the button and said, " Other end of the counter — the lady in the red-silk waist and gold chain." " I was told I would find buttons like this here," said Digsby as he glanced at a near-by clock and realized that he had but fifteen minutes in which to make his purchase and get his train. " You was told wrong then. We been re- arranging stock, an' them kind o' buttons is up at the other end o' the counter now." Then her voice cut the air like a two-edged blade as she shrieked, " Mame ! Oh, Mame ! The gent comin' wants some o' them smallish steel buttons we moved up to your end o' the counter yesterday." " I got a customer !" screamed Mame. " Well, git some o' the others to git a move on 'em then I He wants to git his train !" Mame took the button, eyed it an instant, and said, " You sure you got that button here ?" " My wife said she got it here." " Here, Sadie ! See if you can find a button like this for this gent. Says he got it here, but I don't remember any such buttons !" Sadie took the button. " When did she get it here ?" she asked. "I don't know just when. I only know that she said she got it here." " Not recent I don't think. Kitty ! you remember of us having any buttons like this ?" She gave the button a fling over the heads of the three girls between herself and Kitty, who failed to catch the button. " Whyn't you ketch it, gump ?" " I ain't no base-ballist to ketch things on the fly ! I dunno where it went." "It can't be far. Look for it," said Sadie with calm indifference. " I want to get a train and " " Scurry around and find that button, Kit. The gen- tleman wants to git a train !" Kitty finally found the button. " I sold the last button we had down here like this just a few minutes ago, but there may be some in the stock- room. I'll see." Then she beat a fierce tattoo on the counter with the MUSICAL NOTE. Professor Fiddlestix has a new string band. ('^y end of her lead-pencil, and her voice had the penetrating power of a fog-horn as she shouted, " Mister Gray ! Mister Gray ! Mister Gray ! Here you, Cash ! Go and find Mister Gray and tell him I want him !" Digsby lost his train while waiting for " Mister Gray," who was head of that department. To him said Kitty, " Will you send some one up to the stock-room and see if we have any more buttons like this ? Think we have. The gentleman is in a hurry." Fifteen minutes pass and the next train will leave in fifteen minutes more. " I don't think that I can wait any longer," said Digsby. " I will come in again and " " There she comes now. Hurry up, here, girl ! Slow as molasses in January. They got any buttons like that up there ?" " No ; they ain't." " Well, you needn't 'a' been forever an' a day finding it out !" " Let me have the sample I gave you," said Digsby, but the girl did not produce it. " Whyn't you give the gentleman his sample ?" asked Kitty icily. The cash-girl looked embarrassed and then tittered, and thrusting a finger into her mouth, said, " I was carryin' it in my mouth and I — -I — well, I swal- lered it !" " Ain't you turrible !" said Kitty with a grin, although she said tartly, " I'll tell the floor-walker, you see if I don't. Sorry I can't give you your button, sir, but" She grinned and Digsby fled, saying, " I'll call again — er — no — it's of no consequence !" Her Little Hint. "THE full moon flooded the porch with shafts of steel-blue rays. It was late, but he showed no signs of de- parting. " It has been said," he remarked dreamily, " that the moon is dead." " Is that any reason," she inquired with a yawn, " why we should sit up with the corpse ?" Some Curious Effects of the Boom in Ice Prices. li/E WENT over to the " parlor " across the way and called for a " brick " of mixed, and put down the price we had paid always before. The young lady chirped, " Five cents more, please." We asked why and wherefore. " Ice has gone up," she said. Ah, yes, so. Ice up from three dollars to five dollars a ton, ice-cream from thirty-five to forty cents a quart. Exactly. This led us to investigate. We found the following facts — approx- imately, allowing something, of course, to a deep inward activity of feeling : Our beef went up because of increased refrigeration cost. A bunch of radishes cost two cents more. Oranges jumped, 'and all kinds of fruits. But we' did not see just why kindling-wood went up twenty-five cents a barrel. Of course it was easy after we found out ; it cost more to supply the kindling-splitter with ice-water. Then bricks went up forty cents a thousand. The owner of the brick-yard ran the ice-plant, and the rise in bricks was a purely sympathetic movement — like the inflamma- tion of the eye because the other has got a cinder in it. Then we discovered that a corner lot we wanted had gone up one hundred dollars. This stumped us until we learned the intimate connection between this corner lot and ice. The lot-owner, it seems, had got shut up for three hours in a refrigerator, and contact with ice had imbued him with the idea that everything was going up. But the most singular effect of the ice-boom came out as follows : We asked for an increase of salary and got the frosty face, the glacial glance, and the icy eye all in a moment. Then we realized that ice was up and it was costing more to congeal employing interiors, leaving just so much less for the interiors of the submerged classes. A. R. E. < Appropriate. I/OLB and Oates were rival candidates for the office of governor in a far southern state, and in the campaign " cobs " and " oafs " were the emblems of the opposing factions. During this time Colonel Jones, a prominent politician, died, and on his coffin was laid a sheaf of wheat to typify the ripe old age to which he had arrived. " How appropriate !" exclairried young Mrs. Snow at the funeral. " He was such an enthusiastic Oates man !'* The Ideals of Genevieve at Seventeen and Thirty-two. WHEN Genevieve was seventeen At thirty-two fair Genevieve She lived in dreams,; she loved to plan Forsook the type of early days ; Her future happiness, when she The seasons, as they came' and went, Should meet her fate— her ideal man. Had taught her much of worldly ways. She pictured him, as maidens will. She chose a man wliose bank-account A perfect lover, strong and brave, Was fostered by a plumbing-shop. With wavy A soulful A man who ne'er forgot to Why heed the Or the Or e'en tlio?e vacant lots on CHARLES R. BARNES. The Honest Man ti/HEN the stranger with grass germs in his tresses was shown the last room back on the second floor of the Punktown hostelry and saw what sort of a stall he was to be bedded down in for the night, he bucked vig- orously and said in the most offensive manner he could summon, "Look at that chair! Liable to fall down even if I hang my sliirt on it. The wash-pitcher is fatally cracked, and the bowl has a scallop as big as a summer squash. The carpet is full of holes and dirty, and so much quick- silver has been rubbed off the back of the looking-glass that I look as if I had the small-pox. The cover on the washstand has been on there for two long, hard, busy, dirty years, and the bed looks like a swaybacked horse with a thin blanket over it. If I were to trj' to sleep on that bed I would arise in the morning looking like a waffle. The wall-paper is off in large patches — in fact, it is off in a bunch. The ceiling is cracked, and a yard or so ot plastering is liable to fall and smother me in the landslide at anv moment. That table is really only a one-night stand, and you couldn't write on it if you had two men standing and holding it." By this time the porter was very tired and angry, so he cried out in his vexation, " That's right— kick, kick ! But I'll bet a big dollar you're not used to any better than this at home." " Young man," said the stranger in Punktown, " your bet is begging for takers. Your proposition is too much of a cinch to bet on. Things at home are as bad as this, if not worse. But what does a man go away from home for if not for a change of scene ? I hoped I would find something comfortable and clean, and perhaps even ele- gant,, at a hotel." Moved to tears of compassion by reason of the man's honesty, the porter surreptitiously escorted him to Parlor A, where things were much better because the wash- pitcher had a smaller crack in it, and there was one upholstered chair. Strickland w. gilulan. she replied. Preferred To Be Miserable. AN aged negro cook in a prominent family re- cently received news of the death of a friend. " Oh, mah Lawd ! oh, mah Lawd !" she sobbed. •' Dey's on'y me lef now — all de res' is crossed de rib- ber !" She howled and wailed for an hour or more, utterly impervious to all attempts of her mistress to assuage her grielT. Finally the mas- ter of the house determined to try the effect of humor. "Deborah," he said, "you know Mr. Elton, the butcher, do you not ?" looking up through her tears ; /, / " Yes, sah,' " 'deed I do." "Well, what do you suppose he weighs ?" " Lawd, massa ! how'd yo' spec' I know .' Whut do he weigh .'" " Meat." The humor of this appeared to strike her principally at the hips, for she held them with both hands and laughed with many a re- verberating scream of delight. Suddenly, in the middle of a piercing screech, she stopped, confused and humiliated. "Massa," she said solemnly, " whut's dat I ought ter be feelin' bad erbout ?" DWIGHT SPEN'CER ANDERSON. EXPERIENCED. Miss Wilby Bride—" George wants me to decide where we shall go on our wedding-trip. I can't make up my mind." Mrs. Muchwed—" What's the matter with Switzerland? That's where /usually go." (( This Language of Ours. ISN'T it funny," mused the man with mental strabismus, ' " that when two locomotives comes together the result is called a collision, while two babies coming together are called twins ?" (i-7 A Little Banking Business By Horace Seymour Keller THE following happened in Cincinnati shortly after the close of the Civil War, when money was tight and times pressing'. It is verified by Captain Beck- with, who is acquainted with the parties interested. A young German, accompanied by a middle-aged man, entered a bank, approached the teller and said, " If you blease, vill you gif dis man eight huntred tol- lars ?" The teller gasped, scratched his pate and asked, \ d d BETTER THAN A COBBLE-STONE. Johnny — " Don't move, gampy ; I've got only half a bag more o' these torpedoes all' your head is the bulliest place I've found to set 'em off on !" " And who are you ?" " John Zimmerman." " But you have no money on deposit here " " No ; I got no money by any blace. Vot is der tiffer- ence of it ? It vas a pank, ain'd it, vhere money vas got ?" " Yes ; but I cannot let you have the money '.vithout security " " Vot of it? Der security vas der grocery-store vhich I haf bought off der man vor eight huntred toUars. He vants der money vhich I haf not got. Der pank haf blendy money ; so blease it you vill, gif der man der brice of der store. It vas blain " " I can't let you have the money " " Gentlemen," broke in the cashier, who had been an amused and interested listener to the conversation, "step into this room. Perhaps we can disentangle the problem." " It vas no broblem. It vas easy as noding," uttered the young German. "Please be seated, gentlemen. Now, Mr. Zimmerman, kindly tell me why you thought you could get the amount of money from this bank." " Veil, dis vas a pank, ain'd it ?" " Precisely ; go on, Mr. Zimmerman," responded the amused cashier. " Und pecause it vas a pank vhere money vas, vas der reason vhy I come aft- er der brice of der grocery-store. Oder beoples do der same, und vhy not I ? I puy QUt his store." " Where is the store ?" ■' Just down der street." '• And you paid the gentleman eight hundred dollars ?" " Not yet, but vill so soon as der pank gif me der money." "And, Mr. Zimmerman, you were posi- tive that the bank would let you have that amount without any security ?" "Veil, der pank haf blendy money. I don'd got no money. Derpank's pizness vas vor to gif me der money. It vas blain." The cashier smiled, studied the hon- est, frank face before him and finally said, " I think we can arrange the matter." He drew up a bank-note for one year and asked the German to sign it. Leading the way to the teller's window the cashier said, " Give Mr. Zimmerman the money." And to-day the German, who had so slight a knowledge of banks, banking and securities — but who won out because of his frank, honest face— is worth a quarter of a million of dollars. Vp^ " ^ to X. •= j3 .. M .2. 2 5 ; 3* =^ II" •-" s s « '^r "Poor Little Nina By Walter Beverley Crane ♦> my dear," said Mr. "Willie" ' allow me to present Lord CONSTANCE, Rockwood, Heron." " I am afraid — I really am awfully afraid — that I am intruding here," said his lord- ship. "Why, no," replied Mrs. "Willie" Rock- wood, with a slight delay on each word to emphasize her negative. " You can help me choose a new automobile coat. Do you like that ?" She pointed to a swagger garment floating up and down Mrs. Gosburn's Fifth avenue shop's show-room on a most elegant young person, who had risen in life by the remarkable fall in her back. " 'Why do they call me a Gibson girl?'" hummed Mrs. " Willie's " husband, while Lord Heron exclaimed, "Charming! Charming! Upon my word, exceedingly smart and pretty !" "Which do you mean ?" asked Mrs. "Willie." His lordship was delighted. These little American women are so quick and clever, don't you know ; they have so much self-possession and so much spirit without being vulgar or fast. His heart warmed to her. THE IRONY OF FATE. Zoo PARROT — " Hey ! don't you know this is the glorious Fourth, when you ought to be soaring over these United States, screeching ' Liberty and Freedom '? Get busy 1" Emblem of liberty {sadly) — " And here I am in a cage ! Wouldn't that make you sore?" " It must be a strange life," he observed, lowering his voice ; " this sweeping up and down and bending of the body under other people's clothing." "Why, it must be delightful I" exclaimed Mrs. "Wil- lie." " Only fancy being always sure to have on the very latest thing !" "Isn't it time for little Nina's medicine ?" demanded Mr. "Willie." " Yes, dear ; do hurry home," pleaded his wife. "Shall I have the pleasure of your company. Lord Heron, or do you elect to remain among the — er — clothes ?" " I think, if Mrs. Rockwood will allow me, I will stop and put her into her car." The lady smiled, and her husband strode off toward the Waldorf. Having finally decided on the touring coat and entered her waiting car, Mrs. " Willie " extended Lord Heron some beautifully- gloved fingers through the window of her luxurious limou- sine. "Would you be so good as to tell me the time? Thank you so much. How late ! Oh, dear ! I hope Willie will give little Nina her medicine just on the hour. So good of you to have helped with the coat. Lord Heron. I've a ' bridge ' luncheon, and am awfully late. Tell Francois to hurry, please. Do call soon !" And Mrs. " Willie " flew up the avenue. " Well, I hope little Nina gets her medicine," mused his lordship. He was a tender-hearted Briton. He thought of Tiny Tim and little Paul Dombey. He fancied the sick child lying like a faded flower on her little bed and lisping bless- ings on her mother, now on her way to keep a "bridge" engagement. "Ameri- can women have even less feeling than Parisian," he found himself saying. " Un- mothered mother ! heartless, pitiless !" he repeated to himself. Yet, on the following day after their first meeting, he called at the Waldorf. Though forced to disapprove of an attractive wo- man, he could not resist his inclination for her society. The door to their apart- ments was opened by a French maid, who was crying in a most becoming fashion. Lord Heron's imagination was aroused. " Is it little Nina?" he gasped, letting the monocle drop out of his eye. She nodded despairingly. She could not speak for weeping. She led the way into the drawing-room. The sight which his lordship beheld was indeed surprising. On the Louis XVI. table was little Nina's medicine, and by it the most delicate of sweetbreads untasted. Mr. " Willie " Rockwood, his vacuous face seared with deep emotion, was bending like a " broken " breech-loader over a luxuri- ous divan. Opposite to him was his wife, who had sunk upon the floor, and with tears coursing down her cheeks was soothing the little sufferer. The little sufferer 1 Be- tween husband and wife, propped by the softest pillows, draped by the costliest rugs and shawls, important and deeply conscious of her importance, reclined the queen of French bull-dogs. " Willie " Rockwood came foi-\vard. " I hoped you were the doctor. Heron. I say, old man, have you any acquaintance with the maladies of dogs ?" " None whatever," tartly replied his lordship ; " and indeed, Mr. Rockwood, I am glad to see that you can interest yourself in a dog at such a moment." " At such a moment ?" repeated Mr. " Willie." "When little Nina" began Lord Heron, visibly affected. " Why, my lord, this is little Nina," burst out Mr. Rockwood. Lord Heron screwed his glass in his eye. "I think," he said, "perhaps I'd better go." "Yes," said Mr. "Willie"; "I am afraid my wife is not equal to conversa- tion at present. I trust that we shall have the pleasure of seeing you under happier circumstances." "Ah, thanks! I'm sure, ah — thanks!' murmured the visitor, and he glanced again at young Mrs; " Willie." She was wholly unconscious of his presence. She was holding the limp right paw ot the patient in her hand and was bathing it with tears. Lord Heron departed rather abruptly. The next morning, as he was toying with his breakfast at the St. Regis, a note was brought to him : " Dear Lc^rd Heron- — How you must have wondered at my strange conduct yesterday ! I was in the deepest despair and quite unfit to receive anybody. To- day all looks bright again. The dear doctor came soon after you left. He is reckoned the cleverest man in the pro- fession, and attends the dogs of the smartest people in this country and Europe. He says that our dear little Nina has no serious malady, but recom- mends a change of diet, and a change of climate as well. So we start at once for the Jamestown exhibition. I should prefer the south of England or the Isle of Wight for Nina, as the change would be far more radical, but the doctor says steamer travel is so irritating to dogs in Nina's delicate condition. Will you do me a great favor and send me some of Angel's fiea^powder when you reach London ? I would not trouble you, but Angel's is invaluable and so difficult to get in this country. Mr. Rockwood is in despair at having to leave town so suddenly. He wanted to put you up at all the clubs. May I not depend upon you for the powder ? " Very cordially yours, " Constance Rockwood." " I buy flea-powder for that d d cur !" cried his lordship. "Well, I suppose I shall," he added after a long pause. " • Poor little Nina !' " and he burst out laughing, causing the other guests of the St. Regis much polite and well-bred surprise by his noisy exhibition of mirth. Self-protection. «< you say your wife is a poor cook ?" " The worst ever." " And yet you say that you eat all of everything she pre- pares for the table. How can you do that if she can't cook?" " Great earth, man ! if I don't she will use up the scraps in some of those how-to-utilize-left-over dishes, and that will be my finish." NOT A BIT ST'i'XISH. MaRIB^ — " Does Marjorie smoke ?" Ethyl — " Heavens, no ! She 's hopelessly old-fashioned.' 1^/ ;»*-'.' KISSING-BUGS ? He — " Let us sit out on the lawn and watch the lightning-bugs." She — •■ Oh, somebody might see us ! Let 's sit inside the grape-arbor and watch for the bugs." Has to. ijXHEY say she spends twice as much money as any other woman lor complexion-powder." " Of course she does. She is two-faced." On Her Dignity. 4. 1 UNDERSTAND," said the dignified English matron, " that your father made his money in — in trade." " What do you mean ?" asked the American heiress. "That he amassed his wealth by buying and selling commodities that the common people needed." " He did nothing of the sort !" retorted the angry heir- ess. " I want you to under- stand that papa did not work a lick for a cent of his. He made it every bit by skinning people with watered stocks. I guess that's just as easy money as the kind that you inherit, isn't it ?" Jewell — " How did the Jones-Robinsons get into so- ciety ?" Duell — " They were hyphen- ated in." JILTED. Mag — "Billy, I regrets tcr say dat our engagement has g(jt ter be broke off." Bn.i.Y — -'Wot's de trouble now?" M.'lG — "Me ma won't leave me wear yrr ring no more 'cos it makes me linger black." Aqua Essence. Doctor — " Did that drug-clerk say anything when you asked him if he had added aqua pura to the prescription ?" Assistant — " Nothing. He just smiled acquiescence.', Sure Sign. (( VOU are losing interest in me," she complains. He argues that he is not, but she pouts and repeats her as- sertion. Finally he wants t' know why she says such ». thing. " Because," she says, " you tied my shoe this afternoon in a knot that would not come untied of itself." Getting Away from the Past. it IN MY plans for your new home," says the architect, " I have provided for a large, ornate frieze in the hall." " Don't want it," asserts Mr Conjeeled. " What ?" " Not a bit of it. Can't take any chances on having some one being reminded that I used to drive an ice-wagon." Hope for the Baldheaded By Perkin Warbeck OME months ago I received a letter which I have not been able to answer until now, be- cause it required a great deal of deep thinl ii E Oct, X~E ^1 a 7 TO KEEP COOL. Dreamy Grumps — " I wuz jest a-thinkin", pard. if I had a lot uv money I'd build a nice big house." Dusty Rhodes — "Wot kind uv a house — one uv dem marble ones, or brownstone, or red brick, or" Dreamy Grumps — "Nit — not fer mine ! I'd have a ice-cream-brick house, wid lemon-meringue trimmin's.' The Hair of the Dog. «j JWIEED not tell me that like does not cure like," as- serted the man with the apologetic mustache. " Who tried to tell you so ?" asked the man with the aggressive chin. " No one ; but the point I wanted to make was this : My wife wore one of these drop-stitch waists until she got rheumatism, and then the nurse spread mustard on the waist and made a porous-plaster of it and cured the rheu- matism." One Drawback. EDITH'S father recently bought a new home, in the yard ^ of which are some fine old elms. On being asked how she liked them the little lady replied, " Very well, all but their complexion — that's awfully rough." (( li/E REALLY have no excuse for this war, " said the ' statesman. " Very true," said the ambitious king ; " but that need not worry you, as the historians of the future may be depended upon to develop a proper excuse." 1 "HK A^< m •>>„ B/»RT HALtV EASY. • Me face is me fortune. See?" ' Well, why don't yer increase yer fortune by gittin' de mumps ?" B i-, ~ •- o Si — : a. _ ri. o rt rt ^ t> 3 fi — cr'"" i - •* P2z HERLOCK SHOLMES AGAIN D HIS GLOVE," said Herlock Sholmes. the great detective ; " tliis giove speaks to me of a great mystery." " I knew it would," said Swatson, who had brought the glove to him. " Yes," said Sholmes, lighting a cigarette and putting his feet on the mantel. He puffed m medit.uive silence for some minutes. "Now," he resumed, "the ques- tion is' "The question is where and when was the murder commit- ted," interrupted Swat- son with the keen haste of a man who is tickled to death at anticipating the thoughts of a great personage. " No, that is not the question," replied Sholmes, while Swatson shrank swiftly into his natural state of subjec- tion. " The question is, shall we work it up into a hundred - and - fifty - thousand-word novel or merely make a short sketch of it ?" Swatson vouchsafed no reply, save to motion to his empty pocket. " Ah, we need the money at once ?" smiled Sholmes. "Then it shall be a short sketch, for the cash comes much more quickly from the maga- zines than from the roy- alties on a book. ' For some moments I lepulled at his cigarette, then laid the glove, in the open palm of his right hand. " This glove," he deduced, "was worn by a young woman who belongs to one of the best families. How do I know that ? Because she was on her way to the manicurist's. How do I know she was ? Because you picked it up in front of the manicure-shop across the way. I saw you. Very well. I know she was going there because she was in a hurry, and she drew the glove from her hand before she entered in order t > save time; She had an engagement for the theatre. How do HE \V.\.S IN IT. ' But, papa, he owns stock in iwenty different corporations." " Phew ! I didn't know he had been in politics so long as that him call whenever vou like." I know that ? They all have. Yesterday she bought a copy of ' Lady Rose's Daughter' at the book-shop in Main street. How do I reason that out ? The newspapers advertised a special sale of the story at that shop for that day. She plays golf. I deduce that because she plays bridge-whist. I am positive of that because she has a lap-dog. I am sure of that because she is a pianist. I d scoverthat because of the shape of the fingers of the glove. 1 venture the opinion as to the other attributes of her elevated station be- cause she is an auto- mobilist." "Keen, keen !" cried Swatson. " But how in the world do you deduce that she is an automobilist ?" " Smell the glove,'' commanded the great detective. Swatson did so. The scent of gasoline was overpowering. "Now, Swatson," kindly said Sholmes, " don't you see how I did it all ? I smelled the glove first and then deduced all the rest. I have cultivated- the hab " " Excuse me, Mr. Sholmes," spoke a slen- der lady who had en- tered unnoticed, " but I took the liberty of running up here to ask if Mr. Swatson did not pick up my glove. I thought I saw him do so, and I knew I would find him here. I had Have cleaned the gloves with gasoline and hung them on my window- ledge to dry and one of them fell into the street." She took the glove, smiled her thanks, and left. "Do you know who she is?" asked Sholmes after the- door had closed. "Yes," replied Swatson. "She is the manicurist," (( IS SPACECUT a capable editor?" ' " He can get the good out of an article more com- pletely than any other editor I ever worked under." WHEN PEPPERMINT BLOSSOM RAN By R. N. Duke T WAS to be one of the biggest killings that ever occurred on a race-track, but it did not occur. I am working under a heavy handicap when I try to tell about it, but I belong in the same class with that famous martyr of whom it is lovingly said in the school-books, " he seen his duty and he done it noble." I never joined the dream-builders' asso- ciation nor played Willie the Wild Boy at the race-track nor let the pipers perform that stirring piece, " Darling, Dream of Me," when I showed up at the bookmakers', and my notion of a horse is bound up with and insep- arable from the related concept of a plow or a dray. But I am going through with this thing, even if I don't know a killing from a pigeon-shoot. It was this way. There were three of us. In fact, there were a number of us. I will begin with Aloysius. Aloysius brought in the tip. He said it was an •' air-tight." I think the boys would not have lost their heads if it had been just an ordinary open-air tip with plenty of ventilation. But when you get an air-tight tip what are you going to do ? Pass it up ? Neigh, neigh, Pauline. (That neigh, neigh, will show the reader how conscien- tiously I am trying to give this story a horsy flavor.) Aloysius came in out of breath and said he had got this tip straight from a jockey. The jockey had his head irt a sling and his neck was broken and the funeral was set, and some friends had traveled miles to put him ne.\t to big money and told him to dig up, never stopping to consider that he was about to dig down, as it were, being in such broken health, as I have already intimated, from all ^^ K £ s U £ en ^ >-■ -S ti - >^3 i,X! c — c ^ 173 THE AUTOMOBILISTS WERE RIGHT WITHIN THE LIMIT. f^ „ ^V",, m NOT IC E ' /VUTOMO B I l_ES MUST Slow bowN Inferred. (( riRANDMA is awfully- cross, mamma." " You mustn't annoy her, dear ; she has the rheumatism, and it pains her very much." " Is — is it in her voice, mamma ?" I. Constable — " I say, Bill, those signs are something like. Go 'long and git 'em up and I'll talk business to these fast-runnin' shawfurs." COME day, perhaps, the Chicago river may be stood on end to serve as a monument to that city's greatness. In a Sorry Plight. DETH, while making a call with her mother on a new neighbor, kept her eyes constantly fixed on the sofa, upon which were some very large sofa- pillows, the same color as the upholstering. " Oh, mamma,'' ex- claimed the little girl on reaching the street, " how awfully bad that sofa was blistered !" 2. Small boy {wii/i brush) — -'I say, Johnnie, we'll jest fuller Bill up and put in a letter for the shawfurs." '-■K !;■ '."v" i;f{i^WrfV.W!*?«i'.'' "■'':' 3. Constable — "Hey! Slow up there. Don't you see tliose signs — or can't you read?" Collect? (( IT'S all nonsense," as- serts the skeptic. " It's foolish to talk of communicating with the other world. Why, no- body can get a message to the other side." " I don't know about that," replies the credulous person. " Only the other day I heard a man say he was going to wire a skeleton that night." Her Reply. McGorry — " Oi'll buy yez no new hat, d' yez moind thot ? Ye are vain enough ahlriddy." Mrs. McGorry — " Me vain ? Oi'm not ! Shure, Oi don't t'ink mesilf half as good-lookin' as Oi am." DLESSED are the proph- ets of disappointment ; for they can say, " I told you so." 1 NOTICE ' A UTOM OB 1 LES MUST SLOW DOWN eight/ miles VJHDtfe. PE.f.*LTY OF THE LAW >^^'Hi>^IStlli^''T ^^"K, .-.^ w~- G&Y 4. AUTOIST — •' My dear fellow, do you really suppose we were going faster than that ?" /7S I now HE WAS I.MERESIED. Mr. Riley — ■■ Ah. ladies, yc-r don't know how I am in- teiested in your cause, especially in de deniolishment uv de vile gin-mills uv Casey and Coogan. on dis street. Axcept ten dollars fer new hatchets ter smash deir saloons." Mr Riley (ah /;ok;- /.;/<•>-) — ■• Dat was a coup— both me competitors put out uv bizness an' deir patrons pilin' in so thick dat de reformers couldn't find elbow- room ter smash my joint if dey tried." [ A NY new/s up your way .' " Nope ; nothin' much. Recklessness. ? " asks the country editor. Only Did you hear about Jed Hawkins's tricK with the lightnin'-rod durin' the thunder-storm last Friday ? ' " No. What was that ?' " Why. you know Jed 's been a-arguin' all along to his father that lightnin' - rods didn't draw lightnin' down, an' finally he pulled the rod oft the barn durin' that storm an' walked around with it slung over his shoulder to prove his side of the case. .An' the lightnin' struck " ■■ Struck Jed ?" " No ; struck the barn. " An Exception to the Rule. (( VOU can fool all of the people part of tlie time, and part of the people all rf the time, but yon can't fool all the people all the time," declares the street orator. " Yeu can if you sell canta- loupes," chuckles a man who is going toward the bank with the last installment of his summer receipts. Her Explanation. A LADY who warbled in mezzo, *■ Repined, *'I am always in dezzo. My runs and my trills Could pay all my bills, And would, if I didn't forgezzo." At the Whist Club. Hostess (in astonishment) — " I was surprised that Mrs. Newbegin won the prize. It was just due to dumb luck." Mrs. Eckspert — " • Dumb luck,' indeed I Why, she chat- tered every minute." L1ASEI3ALL IN THE FAR WEST. Tourist {in Frozc-n Dog) — "I suppose your ball-nine are all st-r ]>|:iyprs?" Bronco Bill— •■ You bet they be ! \n if th' decisions don't suit they're sliootiu'- star players." She Was a Lady By William J. Lampton 'O the Sunday-school teacher 's got mar- ried ?" said Big Jack Gilder, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and sighing as if tliere were other ashes in this vale of tears. He was sitting on a soap-box in front of the Yard-wide livery stable. Main street, Copperville, and the post- master had stopped to tell him the news. The postmaster knew that Big Jack cherished a sentiment which had never found expression in definite language. " She's gone and done it, sure," he as- serted in positive corroboration of his original communication. " I know, be- cause I seen it in a Boston paper that comes to a minin' ingineer over on Sil- ver crick. Yes, sir, she 's got married." " Well, I hope she's got a man fittin' fer her," Gilder commented, " fer she was a woman that was high up in the heaven's-best-gift list, if there ever was one." "Yes," the postmaster nodded, " and I thought mebbe you'd like to hear she was married," he added in the kindly manner of those who love to communicate glad tidings which are only relatively glad. Gilder sighed again and smiled. The smile remained as he took a plug of tobacco from his pocket and began cutting strips off of it to fill his pipe. The sigh was for the present, the smile went back to some pleasant memory. "Jou mind the time," he said reminiscently as he scratched a match, " when I brung her up in that covered wagon from the gulch to town ? Lemme see," and he dreamed a moment, " that was the year before I begun drivin' the stage." The postmaster nodded in affirmation, but with some degree of vagueness. " I remember when you was teaniin' from here to the gulch," he said, seating himself on a convenient bale of hay, " but I seem to disremember the perticke- lers of your haulin' the Sunday-school teacher. It don't seem to me that you was in the passenger business. She wasn't freight, was she ?" "Fer that day she was," Gilder laughed. "You see it was this way : She was down to the gulch doin' some kind of missionary work or other, temporary, when she got a hurry call to come to town to see somebody that was startin' over the big divide that couldn't go easy if she wa'n't there to say the word. I don't mind now who, but that's no difference. It wa'n't stage day and she couldn't wait. She'd 'a' walked first ; that's the kind she was. I was startin' with only half a back-load and I offered free passage if she'd agree to take what come and not expect parlor-car lugshuries. She'd 'a' done anything ruther than not git back to town, and when I was ready to pull out she'd been waitin' most an hour fer me. Lookin' mighty sweet and purty, too, and smilin' to think she was goin' to git back to where she was needed most. That's the kind she was." Gilder paused in retrospection until the postmaster showed signs of impatience. " I knowed I was assumin' a risk that was extry hazard- ous, as the insurance people says," he went on when his thought moved him, " but it was only a six-hour stretch from the gulch and I guessed I might take a chance with the load I had in the wagon and six mules in front." " I wouldn't call that much of a risk," the postmaster said in derogation, having been a teamster himself before entering the political field. Gilder sniffed at him scornfully. "That's all you know about what that gulch road was like in them days," he countered. " It isn't so very d smooth yet," put in a drummer who had just arrived on three wheels and a sapling under one axle. " As I was sayin'," Gilder proceeded with a dry laugh ot approval, "she was on the spot lookin' so angelly and so derned grateful to me that I couldn't have stood her otf nohow, and we got away prompt, her settin' on a miner's pack of old clothes in the wagon, and me in the saddle on the nigh mule, gover'ment fashion. We got along mid- dlin' well — mighty fine, I'd 'a' said if I hadn't had a lady aboard that was used to better things — till we struck Ball's hill about four p. m. in the afternoon. Up to and includin' that time most of the trouble had been jist plain joltin', and she bounced around in the wagon tryin' to stiddy herself on anything that she could reach hold of, till I was that ashamed of myself I wanted to resign and hire a private carfer her. But she'd alius laugh between jolts and tell me to keep 'em goin', fer the main thing was to git to town in time. Then her eyes would kind of git dim and I knowed she was thinkin' about what was waitin' fer her to come." Gilder paused and looked wistfully across the street at the Cornucopia hotel on the corner. " And it was right there she stopped," he said, more to himself than to any other person. "That's so; she used to board there," the postmaster assented, as if recognizing an important statement which needed corroboration. " Well." Gilder gathered and went on, " as I was sayin', we done middlin' well till we struck Ball's hill. That's a hill, I want to say positive, that would paralyze any ingi- neer on reecord to git a road over it or round it that was half decent to travel on in dry weather, and when it was wet — well, Ball's hill ought to be in the place where there ain't no water at all." " Right you are," said the drummer, who had become an interested listener. " It had rained'in the mountain the night belore," Gil- der proceeded, " and the road was mud all the way up till it got so steep it slipped off and slid down, so that where it was level enough to pull we'd stall in the mud, and where there wa'n't no mud we'd stall on the steep. I didn't call the Sunday-school teacher's attention to the state of the case, but drove right at it, head on, and she didn't seem to take notice. Leastwise, when I kind of glanced back at the wagon she was under cover and quiet. Ver about half an hour we dragged through somehow, trustin' in Providence, but gittin' a leetle slower all the ;ime, me a-lickin' the team with both hands and yeliin', but bein' pertickeler in my languidge for the lady's sake, seein' she had Sunday-school scruples not fitted fer drivin' mules as they should be drove. 1 seen our finish right ahead, but I kept on exhortin' them mules till they sort o' give up the ghost and stopped as if they had been drove into the ground and clinched." "You don't know how to handle mules," said the post- master with fine scorn. " I know how to be a gentleman when there's latlies present," Gilder retorted at this aspersion upon his profes- sional skill ; " which mebbe everybody don't, but that's not the question before the house. Seein' something had to be done er go into camp, I got off of the saddle mule and tried workin' 'em from the ground, but it wa'n't no use. Them mules was stuck and they knowed it ; which is when it takes talent to convince a mule to the contrairy. I knowed what to do, but a lady bein' in hearin' of the lan- guidge necessary, I couldn't do nothin' but set down on a rock and cogitate the situation without appropriate re- marks. In about three minutes, when everything had set- tled down as if we had bought the property and was goin' to live on it, I seen the wagon cover shakin', and right afterwerds the Sunday-school teacher stuck her head out from in under and swep' the lanskip with her piercin' eye, as the border tales says. I was in the foreground settin' on that rock like I had been hewed out of it. " ' What is wrong, Mr. Gilder ?' says she, callin' me nister, which nobody would 'a' knowed me by that name," Gilder chuckled. "'We're stalled, ma'm,' says I, holdm' back what was proper to say on sich an occasion. " ' Must I get out of the wagon ?' says she. "' Not at all, ma'm," says 1, doin' the Chestyfield to a turn. 'If the' — I come mighty nigh blurtin' it right out, I was that full up — ' If the mules can't pull you out they can't pull nothin'.' "'Have you tried every, means to make them pull?' says she, hangm' on. "'Most, ma'm,' says I, with a mental reservation, as they say on the witness-stand, which she noticed quick. " ' Oh,' says she, ' if you think you can make them pull by whipping them, don't hesitate on my account. I don't believe in being cruel to animals, Mr. Gilder, but we must get to town.' " ' Yes'm,' says I, not havin' much else to remark on the subject that I could say before her, bein' a Sunday-school teacher and a lady. " ' Well, try the whip on them again,' says she, and with that she went plumb out of sight under the wagon-cover. I lit in ag'in with renewed energy, as they say in print, and I larrupped the blacksnake around them mules till it was a shame and an outrage, but it wa'n't no good as I knowed it wouldn't be. They was broke different. " Purty soon her head bobbed out from in under the wagon-cover agin. It was so still outside that she got nervous, I reckon. I was settin' on the rock in the last stages of a hopeless contemplation, as they say. " ' Mr. Gilder,' says she in a different tone of expression, ' if you will help me a moment I'll get out of the wagon.' " 'There ain't no use in troublin' yourself, ma'm,' says I, gittin' up and movin' over her way. 'If they kin pull any- thing tliey kin pull you. You ain't a fly on tlie harness.' " ' That may be, Mr. Gilder,' says she powerful polite, ' but if I get out and go on to the top of the mountain, out of hearing, possibly \ou can urge them properly. 1 know something about mules.' "She kind of laughed when she said it, and to save my everlastin' reputation I couldn't help gittin' red in the face and givin' myself dead away, but she never let on." The postmaster and the drummer nodded at each other as if they appreciated the position of Mr. Gilder. " ' All right, ma'm,' says I, bowin' my best, ' if you insist on gittin' out fer a walk you kin, but I ain't sayin' you've got to.' " ' But I'm sayin' it, Mr. Gilder,' says she, ' fer I must be in town to-night,' and she begun climbin' out all by herself. " Knowin' some how women is when they git sot in their way, I lent a hand to the lady, and in a minute she was out and hoofin' it up the hill like a mountain sheep. As she went out of sight she stopped and waved her hand at me to come ahead. " Whereupon and hence I turned loose on them mules the kind of languidge they understood, and in about five minutes, they had that wagon yanked out of the mud and was goin'' up hill like a cog-wheel incline. I was some skeered that she might be waitin' fer me where the last pull was at the- top, but not anv. 1 found her settin' serene on a stump. half a mile down the other side with some flowers in her hands that she give me when I helped her to git aboard ag'in, and she snickered some and said she was very much obliged to me indeed. Which the obligation was all on, me fer her havin" give me the chance." " Mules is almighty pertickeler in their habits," com-. mented the postmaster retrospectively. " She was a lady, all right," said the drummer, and Big Jack, with a nod and smile towards him, knocked thft ashes out of his pipe again and sighed. Sonnet in Summer. By a clerk. ON HIGH stool seated, right beneath the tiles, Methought from out my perch aerial here How better were a foaming glass of beer Than penning stupid docum-.-nts by miles. For, ah ! not easily one reconciles Sweet summer with the desk and inky smear. Vacation smiles but only once a year, And beer alone the leaden hours beguiles. The wealthy ones have to the seashore flown ; They walk the shady side of Easy street ; By wind and wave they're metamorphosed brown ;-, But when the clock strikes five and time's my own. Then beer, cool beer, is compensation sweet For all my griefs — and won't I pour it down ! H. G. r" Ji s ■yi r- t: • := t- s s ;:< § M K '7; r4T&^ Trie ClRCl/5 TlftlJETS BY ED /nOTT. "Of course that little caper o' the lightnin' made "Lije and Katury's goin' to the show look IJE PERGENKAMPER is foller- somethin' out o' the question, and things was gloomy in' Caleb Cronk up, sure as he's around them premises, and no mistake. Josh Roper owed livin', and if there's any law worth a pint o' shoe-pegs, he'll make Caleb sweat, I bet you ! Will he ? Well, you jest listen to me, and then jedge !" ^Sol Cribber, of the Pochuck district, was over to the Corners, and another chapter of doings, •Lije nine dollars and forty-three cents on a choppin' job, but Josh had run all to emptyin's on cash, and there wa'n't much show of 'Lije gittin' any from him not for no tellin' how long ; but Katury got an idee. " • 'Lije,' she says, 'you go over to Josh's and tell him that you hate to pester him, 'cause yon know he's a little close to the wind, but that there's a circus comin' and some- thin' has got to be did. Tell him,' says Katury, ' that you'll fresh from that interesting precinct, was surely ready for take that old ewe sheep o' his'n and call it square,' says delivery. "If there ever was disapp'inted, heartsore and sot-down- on folks, them folks is 'Lije Pergenkaniper antl his wife Katury. And if conscience ever got a clutch on to any one and give 'em nightmares, then conscience ought to have a hitch on to Caleb Cronk enough to make him shed scaldin' tears. " Five year or so ago a circus come along to that baili- wick, and 'Lije and Katury got tickets to the show for let- tin' the showmen stick some pictur's on to their cow-shed door. There hadn't been a show of any sort along that way sence, not till last week, and when 'Lije and Katury heerd it was comin', somethin' like a month ago, they was feelin' chipper as catbirds, 'cause they was pretty nigh sure that the show 'd want the cow-shed door ag'in for pictur's. Sure enough, the show feller druv up to 'Lije's one day, jest ahead of a big thunder- storm that was bearin' down on to that edge o' the deestrict. 'Lije asked him in the house, and he d rawed up the papers for the cow-shed door and 'Lije signed 'em. 'Lije made an all- fired good bargain with him, too, for the feller throwed in tickets for the man-eatin' cannibal and the pig that played keerds. "Well, sir, jest as the feller was signin' the paper for the tickets a blaze o' lightnin' bustetl out right over the farm and swooped down on to the cow-shed. In less time than I kin tell you, the cow-shed was snappin' and crackin', and the consekences was that before they hardly knowed what was goin' on, there wasn't no cow-shed door left to stick a pictur' on. Of course that ended the deal right there, and Katury took on tremendous, for she had sot her heart on goin' to the show, and here there wasn't another thing on the place to stick a pic- tur' on. " Some folks, 'Lije says, mowt 'a' thought that Katury "d felt wuss over the cow bein' killed in the shed by the lightnin' than over the wipin' off o' the face o' the earth of a 3 by 6 slab door ; but setch folks ain't acquainted with Katury's y'arnin's, he says. "■Cows ain't skeerce,' says Katury, 'but I'll bet there won't be another circus within a hundred mile o' this spread 0' hemlock not in forty year,' she says. ' Least- ways, not one with a pig that plays keerds, and a man- eatin' cannibal,' she says. she. ' Them show folks has got to have meat for their animals,' she says, ' and you kin trade 'em that sheep for tickets to the show,' she says ; • but stick to havin' 'em for the pig that plays keerds and the man-eatin' cannibal,' she says. "'Lije he went over to Josh's on the jump. Josh he wa'n't no way slow on takin' him up, for he couldn't 'a' o-ot five shillin' for the ewe. 'Lije druv the sheep home, and things cheered up around there amazin'. " This Caleb Cronk lives jest beyend 'Lije's, and never had no cow-shed nor nothin' else that anybody could stick a show pictur' on to, so when he heerd that 'Lije was spectin' to hire his cow-shed door for tickets to the show he was madder 'n a snake, 'cause he didn't have no shad- •• ■ THAT BEAR SriiLE LIJE S SHEEP. der of a chance o' }.;ittin' there himself. Then when he heerd that 'Lije's shed was eat up by lightnin', and that the deal for tickets was off, he come over to 'Lije's, grinnin' meaner than a hyeny. "'So you've changed your mind about goin' to the show, have you .'' he says to 'Lije. ' It's goin' to be a hummer, they tell me,' he says. " Liie didn't say much to him, 'cause he knowed that Caleb couldn't go neither, and there was some consolation in that, for if Caleb had been goin 'Lije says he'd 'a' jumped on to him right then and thumped him so that he couldn't 'a' got out in a month. And 'Lije made a big mistake by not doin' it ; I tell i'('« he did ! •■ But when 'Lije got Josh Roper's old sheep, and Caleb heerd what he was calculatin' on doin' with it, Caleb was madder than before, and he come over to 'Lije's and said he had his opinion of folks that 'd trade off an inno- cent old sheep for lions and tigers to tear up and eat, jest to git in and see a circus that wa'r.'t goin' to amount to much, anyhow. 'Lije laughed at Caleb, and twitted him 'cause he couldn't git to go to the show, and asked him how much of his clearin' he'd give to be him and Katury on show day. Yit 'Lije felt sorry for him, to think what him and Katury was goin' to see and Caleb was goin' to miss. " On the mornin' o' the day before the show 'Lije went out to take a look at the siieep, and the sheep was gone ! A bear had come out o' the woods, killed the sheep and eat it all up but a piece of its tail, right on the premises, with- out 'Lije ever gittin' an inklin' of it. Katury swooned dead away when 'Lije went in with the news, and he savs he felt like singin' • Hark, from the tombs,' and throwin' ashes all over himself. When Katury come to she give a few gulns, and then says to 'Lije, •• • Don't you say a word so that Caleb's folks '11 hear o' this, 'she says. ' I'd rather go right over Jurdan this minute.' " So Lije kep' mum. .A.ntl he gloomed for a couple o' days. Then Caleb comie over, grinnin' wuss than ever. " • Didn't see you and Katury to the show,' he says. ' It was a liummer !' he says. " ' How do you know ?' says 'Lije, turnin' cold. " ' Why, me and my folks was there,' says Caleb, chucklin' gleefully. " Then 'Lije most fell dead. " ' Yes,' says Caleb. ' Mornin' afore the show I seen a big bear sneakin' kind o'quarierin' away from your place, off towards the woods," he says. • I got my gun and headed the bear off,' he says. ' I only had to shoot him once," he says. ' And who do you think bought him ? The head showman ! He give me ten dollars for him, and tickets for me and Hanner and all the young uns, and to the pig that played keerds and the man-eatin' cannibal, too. Sorry you and Katury changed your minds,' says he. ' You missed a heap,' says he. " .A.nd now 'Lije Pergenkamper is foUerin' Caleb Cronk up, and if there's any law worth a pint o' shoe-pegs he'll sock it to him and make him sweat ! Why ? That bear stole 'Lije's sheep and knocked him and Katury out o' gittin' to the show. Caleb killed that bear with 'Lije's sheep in it, and got to the show that the bear knocked him and Katury out of. If that ain't sheep-stealin' it's excessory after the fact, by gallinippers ! And if 'Lije don't sock it to Caleb and make him sweat, then there ain't no law worth a pint o' shoe-pegs I" * BUYING THE REAL MUSE. The lover — " Here, mister, would youse mind goin' roun' de corner to de foist house youse comes ter an' play S' methin' soft an' sentimental-like fer a penny ?" f^r ( SLICKER THAN ALL GET OUT ! "Yes, siree ; Bill evened up fer thet bar'l o' dy-luted merlasse^ slicker 'n scat. After the tradin' was all done ole Crawford says tir Bill, 'Them turkeys o' yourn weighs right sinart fer their size.' 'Yep,' says Bill, takin' a fresh chaw o' terbacky, easy like ; 'tliey orter. I ben a-feedin' 'em up on buckshot fer quite a spell.' Tlien they looks at each other real friendly like — same as them two dugs o' ourn when they meets up sudden an' onexpected." I Looking Ahead. IT'S a great thing to look ahead. There was the case of the intellectual evangelist who stayed durin' the pro- tracted meetin' with my brother Reuben. Jest before church-time Reub says to him, says he, " I'll go down to church with you. I'm goin' to git religion before this evenin's meetin' 's over. But I'll have to hurry home a leetle early, so's to fi.\ the furnace-fire 'fore it goes out." " Better fix it 'fore you go," says the evangelist. " If I monkey with that fire be- fore I go to church," says Reuben, "I'll not be able to git religion at the meetin'. I'll be so mad all evenin' that promises of heaven won't charm me nor thoughts of hell-fire scare me." " All right," says the evangelist ; " fix it jest the same. If you fix it before meetin' you won't be converted ; but if you fix it afterward you'd backslide if you was. Back- slidin' 's worse than nothin'. I wouldn't try to git converted if I was you until after cold weather had passed on an' the furnace-fire was off your mind. Git religion in the spring ; then you'll have a peaceful summer to be- come strong in the service of the Lord be- fore winter an' the furnace come agin." That evan- gelist lost the credit of convertin' Reub. He caught religion from another exhorter in the early spring. But with all summer to work up self-restraint he got in sech fine moral shape that, when winter come ag'in, he could tend that fire with no worse language than " Blim drat !" an' " I'll be swozzled !" (( Will Get His Wish. IVJO," said the billionaire, with deep conviction in his voice ; " I would consider myself in error indeed should I die while I have even a tenth of the wealth I now possess. It is my wish to die compara- tively poor." " Oil, you dear old papa !" exclaimed his fair and only daughter as she embraced hi:n. " The duke pro- posed last night and I accepted him. Isn't that just your luck ?" His Argument. QTANLEY was planning to penetrate darkest Africa. " But," protested his friends, " think of the danger of exploring an absolutely unmapped country !" " That's nothing," he replied ; " I shal luse a fash- ion-pattern diagram." Realizing that any possible road would surely be there, they could think of no further objection to offer. Doubt. ERE'S an ignoramus," said the assistant, •• who writes to ask when the Christian era began." " Humph !" said the answers-to-correspondents edi- tor. " I think we're a long way from it yet." H^ THE people who are most skillful at seeing the silver lining to the cloud are usually the umbrellaless ones that blockade your doorway while waiting for the rain to stop. A Difference ■with a Distinction. Jaggles — "I suppose bric-a-brac is often sold for junk?" Waggles — "Not nearly so often as junk is sold for bric-i-brac." A PRACTICAL STUDENT. Well, what are you studying in your arithmetic, piggy ?" Ma hog Piggy — " I'm interested very much in a problem of square root, ma, Possibly So. nVES, children," said Uncle Henry; "the fishes in the sea go in schools." " Do they go in swim- ming-schools ?" asked the smart nephew, who was planning to enter Yarvale. " Most of em," replied Uncle Henr)'. " But the sea-horses go to riding- schools, and ihe star- fishes go to astronomical schools, and the seal goes to a law-school, and the sword-fish goes to a mili- tary school, and the saw- fish to a manual-training school." " And where does the lobster go ?" asked the smart nephew. " He doesn't go any- where. He stays at home and practices his college yell." A Change in Method. .£■///— "Hello, Jake! Yer lookin' mighty re- spectable nowadays. Have yer quit de bunco business ? ' Jake — " Not on yer life ! I'm runnin' a cor- respondence school." Uncovering Their Past. (( ALL right," says the rich father, after the count has stated his terms ; " I'll let Sadie marry you and agree to turn over to you one mil- lion dollars. Now, let's get it fixed up properly. Suppose we say one thou- sand dollars down and the balance at two dol- lars a week." Here Sadie bursts into tears and leaves the room. " Now, ma," says the rich father to his wife, " what on earth 's the matter with that girl ?" " Well, I don't blame her at all, pa. It seems as if you never could keep from betraying the fact that we are of ple- beian origin." "What have I done now ?" asks pa. " Why, you talk as if you were buying the count from an install- ment-house." Willie — "I simply c.m't practice my piitno-lesson, mamma — it makes me too nervous." Mother — "What are you going to do this afternoon?" Willie — " Wliy — cr — I've got to put in si.\ liours' practice with our 'drum-corps.' " A CONFIRMED bache- '■ 1 o r yachtsman is what might be called a genuine single-sticker. THE BIGAMIST. • Kind lady — " Was there a woman in vour case ?" i • u r> Prisoner— "Wimmen. miss— wimmeii! Huh! If dere wuz only c«<- it 'd bin all right. Uere wuz five er six. Dat's wot I'm here far." I'< 5 Cf^ V/o\ <->".' CHANGE! " There goes Smith. Used to be a lion before he got married." '• Looks like a truck-horse now." WITH PLE.ASURE. Officer •' If you haven't a license you will have to accompany me." Grinder— •• -■VU right, sir — wliat will you sing ?" f>Sf^S0^ ANCIENT TAYLES By LOWELL OTUS REESE Ye Femayle Monk. A FEMAYLE Monk once lived in povertie & longed to be nch & famous. Alle her life she hadde been gay & festive, & ye gossips woulde gath- er atte ye sewing circle & shake their heddes & say : 3|S?t»^ busie even to scratch. Foxes sneaked into ye back yard & stole alle ye poultry, butte ye Olde Dogge knew naught of itte. He was notte a fox-hound. He was a chronic giver of advice. Whenne other dogges were hard atte work burying bones thys Okie Dogge woulde have some other dogge cor- nered, handing out a wealth of advice regarding ye care of hys coat & How to Succeed. He knew itte alle — from ye bottom round of ye ladder of success plumb to ye top thereof — yette never hadde he climbed ye sedde ladder. He was a dogge of theories. He wist notte thatte a theory thatte hath been proved is whatte menne love. Hys theories might be wrong — butte they were good theories, anyway. Now itte came to pass thatte ye Olde Dogge began to wake uppe. He saw alle ye other dogges sleek & prosper- ous. They were fatte & they hadde one & alle manie bones buried out in ye back yard agaynst ye rainie day. Butte ye Olde Dogge hadde naught save ye rheumatism & a board bille. He hadde lost hys voice giving advice ; butte ye dogges who hadde listened to hys advice alle ye yeares now passed hymme by, saying, " What a bore Olde Towser is, to be sure !" Thenne ye Olde Dogge crawled under ye house to die. saying, " Behold ! Alle my life have I been busie giving advice — whenne, marry & alack ! I hadde notte sense enough to take care of mine own prosperitie !" & he died. & thys is ye lesson we gather from ye life & death of ye Olde Dogge : First Wizzle : If thy advice be goode — take itte thyself. If itte be badde — keep itte to thyself. Second Gurgle : Lette everie manne take care of hym- self — & ye worlde will be comfortable. Third Sneeze : Ere thou give advice be sure itte is goode. Ere thou take itte — be twice sure. HAD NOT FORGOTTEN. The landlady — "I'm afraid Mr. Slopay has forgotten what a large bill he owes me." The star boarder — " No, he hain't. He said only yesterday that he wished he had money enough to move.' o OJ c u E bo c c >, OJ "u 5=3 a! OJ 3 C o c ~ ^ d ■-^ 1 B c > o c ID aj j:: c > O B O T3 a c S 3 CO 1 c o e H c c- x: u .i; -^ t« ^ J3 to JJ w O X (Ll CS 11 -3 3 j: (U c ^J^ O O u o o. D < E c fe; ■U OJ i— >^ a- ; 3 o S o a. 3 1> 1- 3 8 J u >i 1? O K x: c ~ r3 o >, 1 •-** < >• a ^ OJ c o c ■^ r: o (A t/: > 3 3 ■- O " . £ o CA p. _ B ■" rt bo ? .E «j o t/: o -J i- be >> B CO bo g • >^ o t: ho C I. OJ o rt — C >< c • c :- ■ a -^ OJ ^" (/i -3 >. n! O • r< bo- Z (/3 ■" >. "■ c^ rt d c 3 en 3 CQ ^ -c .ti .- ■^ T-, -:<: ci o 1^ =s c CS o o c o 1- n r c> :; t_" 6 o 3 O o c ^ £ r. >> V — ;r" ^ X If. L. V 3 < Q ■^ ._^ ■ = s r3 ZJ r; f - ■(5 fr Tc ^ 1 o o c OJ C (J 1 ►J : X •7- < ^ s; in — CO ^ x: /<5 f ^^P^. UP TO THE GROCER. "Uncle Henry, these aigs hain't as fresh as they ouglit to be." '■Well. I hain't surprised. We giv tlie hens thet health-food ye sold us last month, an' thet wan't very fresh, either." A Test, Indeed. REGINALD VAN PASTTHEMARK knelt on the bal- cony and gazed into his lady-love's fair face. " Though we part to-night," he said, his voice shak- ing with emotion, " my love for you will remain as steadfast as ever. Call on me to show it whenever you like, and gladly will I undergo the severest test. Though I lie thousands of miles away from you " Kalhryn Futuregirl placed her hand upon his bowed head. " Ah !" she cried, " do not use that expression ot which our ancestors were so fontl. Say not that you • will fly to me.' That is no test nowadays. Promise me, if I ask you to, you will walk to me from the far- thermost corners of the world." And so great was Reginald's love that, with liis hand upon his heart and his foot upon the air-ship beside the balcony, he promised. It was the supreme test, indeed, in this year 2002. No Longer in Business. Maud — "O , Uncle George ! did you see the medi- cine-man of the tribe of Intlians that you visited ?" Uncle George — " No, Maud. I discovered that he retired several jears ago in favor of the patent-medi- cine-man." Absolutely Necessary. (( RUT, my dear," sai 1 Mrs. Fosdick in surprise, " you said you were very hard up. If that is the case we can't afford to give the swell reception you suggest." " That's just it," rejoined Mr. Fosdick. " I am dreadfully hard up, antl we can't afford not to give it." The Way Out of It. IT was midnight. The emperor sat puzzling over the naval budget for the coming year. " The royal treasury is empty, your majesty," said the -chancellor of the exchequer gravely, " and the taxes are twenty-eight months in arrears. We are bankrupt." " You may call a peace-conference to consider the question of universal dis- armament," said the emperor, " and re- duce the naval esiimate by twenty million roubles." He turned away wearily. " Saved by a length," he whispered. A Liberal View. (( UIAVE you seen much of Miss Dumonde? * ' She's apt to be reserved, tliey say, .■\nd seldom lets one get beyond The commonplace of every day. " ■" Oh. yes, indeed ! I saw so much That really I was stricken mute, Although I only met her once — But — she was in her bathing-suit !" MADELINE BRIDGES. Well Qualified. (( IS IT possible that you have intrusted the management of your campaign to a woman ?" "It is; and don't you worry about it. The lady just recently got herself elected organist of one of the most populous churches in this town." A Musical Confession. ^ T DODGE the flying bootjack That's thrown to ^mash my skull ; '. he cuspidore I side-step In manner beautiful. But unto twenty booljacks. That twenty pitchers jcjin In hurtling toward my b. dy I note one shining coin. I glean the coin and side-step The missiles, don't ;,'ou seek, E'en as I scoop the sunshine And from the shadow flee. I e'er look on the bright side, A philosophic gent, .\nd face nusfortune's lx>>tjack To gather fortune's cent. The Paticntcst Feller As related by the Job Hill Man E WAS the patientest feller I ever see," remarked the man iVom Job Hill as he sat in the store the other t^ ^- v^v^B ''''-■ "Jifn Barker didn't have such ^^i^" . B^-jB a thing as anger about him. No matter what happened, he could explain it, and when Jim could explain a thing it didn't bother him no more'n a skeeter on the other side yer window screen. I never see no such man as Jim was, before ner since, never. " Whv, one day Jim's wife ups and runs awav, and he didn't blame her at all ; said no doubt she was actin' accordin' to her best lights, and if he had been in her place he'd 'a' done jest the same. A man never judged a woman fair, any way. Jim said, because a man wasn't a woman and didn't know anything about woman nature. " I asked Jim if he didn't think his wife might have left some of the furniture, and at least a part of the money he had stowed away in an old boot in a closet, instead of gob- blin' up the whole thing and luggin' it off while he was in town selling a calf ••'Well, now, look-a-here,' was Jim's words, 'you can't blame a woman like you would a man. 'Taint her nature to do things by halves. She does it or she don't, and there you are. No half-way about it. She never thinks of dividin' things up, as you might say. I s'pose she wanted somethin" along to remember the place by and she jest naturally took the hull caboodle.' " Yes ; but how about that bow-legged swindler she ran off with ? I asked Jim. You ain't going to let him go scot tree, are you ? •• ' Slow, now,' is the way Jim came back at me. ' Don't go too fast. He ma}' be bow-legged to you and me, but then you and me ain't runnin' away with him. Look at him from her standpoint. To her he doubtless looks all straight and o. k. You've got to look at everything from the proper standpoint. It's the standpoint that makes all the difference.' " Now, that was Jim Barker all over. Always talkin' about the standpoint and explainin' things easy and quiet- like. Why, one time he was goin" to a barn-raisin' and a dance, and his wife put his best pants out on the line to air, intendin' to give 'em a press and a breshin' after. But she fergot that part, and when Jim was dressin' he called fer them pants — all the good pants he had — and there the goat was a-chewin' at 'em and one leg nearly et up. But Jim didn't go out and kill that goat. He didn't abuse his wife, as some would. He didn't have a fit or a spasm, or anything like that. He said it was the goat's nature. He would have done the same if he had 'a' been a goat. Any- body would. Then he stayed at home and read the bible all evenin'. '• Jim had a cow once — the ornriest, stubbornest critter 1 ever see. I'd 'a' brained that beast with an axe inside of a day. But Jim didn't. He jest pitied hpr. One day he made a nice flower-bed, and it was a beauty. Soon as he went away that cow got in the yard and went and stood in that flower-bed all afternoon, and stamped her feet and switched flies. When Jim see her there he didn't knock her liver out with a fence rail. He didn't pour kerosene over her and light a match. He didn't tie her on the railroad, so's the Cannon-Bail express would hit her. No, sir. He jest led her away soft-like, sayin' to hisself, ' the fine dirt felt good to her feet. I'd 'a' done jest the same if I'd 'a' been a cow.' " I never see Jim Barker show the slightest what yoti may call nen'ousness but once," said the man from Job Hill as he lit his cigar and began to get his bundles together. "Once, I'll admit, Jim was mad — mad for him. He had a boil on his neck — one of the carbuncle kind, you know — and it was a whopper. I can see that boil on Jim's neck now if I shet my eyes and think a little. Well, one day Jim was settin' out on the steps with his head restin' between his hands and that boil puUin" on him pretty- strong, A big, white rooster, with whiskers on his feet, was foolin' round pretty close to Jim and sort o" peekin* round to see what he could see, when his eye lit on that big poppin' boil. Well, sir, that rooster jest stood and gazed at that boil fer about a minute, Jim not takin' notice, his head bein' between his hands, you know. By'n'by old whisker-feet edges up to look at it a little closer, when, all of a sudden, out goes his neck and the rooster had pecked Jim's boil ! Jim jumped into the air about sixteen feet, I reci;on, and as he lit on earth again he caught sight of old whiskers leggin' it for the tall timber. At first I thought Jim was goin' to give his nibs the surprise of his life, but he didn't. He looked at that rooster a minute and then went back and set down on the steps. •' The only reason I think Jim was what you might call flurried a little bit, fer once, is because I heard him say, ' I s'pose if I'd 'a' been a rooster I'd 'a' done the same.' Then he suddenly flared up and said, ' No ! I'll be dummed if I would.' •• It was the kind o' brisk way he said it that made me think fer once Jim had lost his temper a little mite.' Poesie a la Mode. I AM going to make a poem, and I think that I shall take ' A league or so of shadowy sky, a dim, mist-haunted lake. With the pale wraith of a legend floating o'er it like a spell — But this strange, blood-chiUing legend I must never really tell. There must be a blotch of color and a mystery intense. But with music, feeling, beauty one can easily dispense ; And — though this is all sub-rosa — it is be'*^ RESEMBLANCES. The jack-mule — "There seems to be a powerful resemblance betwixt you and I about the face and ears." The jack-rabbit — "Yes ; and a more powerful one is that with us both our force lies in our hind legs." u OPEN TO ARGUMENT. Boss — "Well, what kind of a salary would you start in on ?" IzzY — " Ten t'ousand a year." Boss— " What ?" IzZY — "Yep ; but you kin beat me down to two dollars und fifty cents a week.' A Constant Patron. A LADY enters the shop of the picture- framer and leaves an or- der. When she has gone the maker of frames turns to a customer who has been waiting and says, "That lady certainly is a good patron of mine." " Gives you a good deal of work, does she ?" " Not a great deal ; but if she continues as she has this summer I can count on a regular in- come from her. In May she came to get her col- lege-diploma framed ; in June she had me fix up her marriage -certificate in a neat gilt moulding ; and now she wants her divorce-decree mounted and framed." H UOW did your col- ' ' lege cousin have his new photograph tak- en — full front ?" " No; halfback. He is on the football team." 'F 'Fore Sister Put Long Dresses On. •ORE sister put long dresses on I had just lots o' fun A-play in' games with her, for then she used t' kick an' run, Er rassle good as any boy, an' didn't miud a bit A-doin' things that mentioned now jes makes her tlirow a fit ! What brought about the sudden change is more'n I can tell — She used t' like t' hear me laugh an' stamp my feet an^ yell. An' lots o' times 'twa'n't me alone that raised ol' Ned, you know, 'Fore sister put long dresses on, an' went an' caught a beau ! You'd think t' see her now she'd been as quiet as a mouse Her whole life long, an' never raised such rackets in the house A-chasin' me up stairs an' down, that ma with achin' head Tol' pa on us, an' he — he sent us supperless t' bed ! You wouldn't tliink a quiet girl, like sis has got t' be, Las' summer-was-a-year-ago played mumble-peg with me, An' nearly allers beat me, too, but then, that was, you know, 'Fore sister put long dresses on, an' went an' caught a beau. The knees of sister's stockin's used t' wear out same as mine A-playin' marbles. As fer tops, my, she could spin 'era fine ! At makin' kites an' flyin' 'em she was immense — an', gee ! If one got tangled on a limb the way she'd climb that tree ! I wouldn't ask a better chum than sis was to me once, But now she mopes an' lolls aroun' an' acts a perfect dunce. Gee ! ain't a boy's life orful tame? An' yet it wa'n't so slow 'Fore sister put long dresses on, an' went an' caught a beau ! ROY PARRELL GRBBNE. n THE turkey is a greedy bird," wrote Bessie in her com- ' position, "The one we had for our Thanksgiving dinner had eaten more than two quarts of oysters." TIT FOR TAT. " It you were a magistrate, how would you deal with autoists who exceed the speed limit ?" " I would exceed the fine limit." \\ u •= ^ XI . : S .2 S E - >. I ^ .-a =5 a ■? : 1" E 73 U U c > •a < . o )-* E o U c "re u a, (/I o So o 3 a u -C E •a U S 1— < o o z o rt 3 O E < n < > '^3. Mrs. Clancy and the "Cinsus »» BY MORRIS WADE ENUINE Irish affability made radiant the face of Mrs. Pat Clancy when she opened the door of her " tinnymint on the foorth flure back " in response to the knock of the young man who had had sufficient political "pull " to be appointed one of the census enumer- ators. He wore the " pleasant smile " photographers beseech their patrons to assume, and he obeyed the instruc- tions he had received from headquar- ters to " be courteous to all." He greeted Mrs. Clancy with a gentle — "Good-morning, ma'am." She spread her hands apart and made him a ducking little courtesy while saying, " Good-marning,' me bye. Will yeez come in .''" " No, thank you ; I am one of the census enumerators and " " An' phwat is a cinsus enoomerator annyhow ?" "Well, I have to find out who lives liere — how many males, how many females, their ages, occupations, and so forth." " Is it so ? Dear, dear ! Did anny wan iver ? An' yeez are to put it arl down in a buk ? Luk at thot now ! An' phwat good is de cinsus whin yeez get it ? Not thot I moind havin' de goodness av givin' yeez a bit av infarma- tion, but phwat's de good av it arl, says I ?" " Well, it is necessary for the state to know a great many things printed in the census report. As I am hur- ried for time I would like to ask at once for the name of the head of the family here." " De hid av de fam'ly, is it ? Sure an' I'm no woman sufTrager, an' far be it from Judy Clancy to be wishin' to onsex hersilf be goin' to de bally-box wid her vote, but whin it comes to bein' de hid av de fam'ly she takes sicond place for no wan, not aven Pat Clancy himsilf. Sure an' de honors are aquil wlun it comes to bein' de hid av de fam'ly in this tinnymint, an' it's not me thot would be put under foot by no mon, an' Pat Clancy found thot out manny an' manny a long day since. Annyhow, phwat is de good av de state botherin' about who is de hid av de fam'ly ? Will it mek kerryseen anny chaper, or bring down de rint, or give me ould mon a rise in his pay, or do anny good at arl at arl ? No, it will not. Thin why be takin' de cinsus at arl ? Sure an' if I was de prisidint or aven a dhrawer in his cabbynet I would " " Would you mind giving me your husband's name in full ?" "His name in full, is it ? Sure an' it's de same whin he's full as whin he ain't, if ye don't moind a bit av a joke. I was iver the wan to be crackin' me jokes an' seein' de comic side av ev'ryt'ing, an' your riferince to Pat Clancy's full name set me up to me ould thricks. It was only this marnin' thot Clancy says to me, says he, ' Ye'd be crackin' yer joke if ye was on yer deat' bed, Judy Clancy,' an' so loike enough I wud. Phwat ? Are there anny childer in de fam'ly ? It's sorry I am to say thot there's none. It do be heredittary in me fam'ly not to have childer. Me own mither was just thot way, an' a great cross it were to her. It do be strange how thim thot would rej'ice in 'era has no childer, an' thim as don't want anny has 'em by de dozen. You tek de Noonans on de sicond flure back. It's tin years married they are, an' their tinth a w.-vke ould an' named lor me, an' ye should see de silver mug I was afther givin' de yang wan wid its name carved on It be.iutiful. A dollar an' twinty cints it cost. There's two pairs o' twinses, an' Noonan wid only tin dollars a wake to his pay. It do come full hard on him to have such a fam'ly, but he ain't wan to complain, an' why should he, wid arl of 'em ia full health an'" " Your husband's name, please. Is it anything beside Patrick .'" " An' isn't thot enough ? Phwat is de good av layin' a name a yard long on wan .' De Noonans wanted to give their little kid de names of ' Honory Isabelly ' along wid my name, an' I tould thim if they did they nade ixpict nothing from me, an' thot inded it. De nonsens av t'ree names for a weeny yang wan loike thot ! An' thim wid tin to foind names for, an' who knows but aven more, it's savin' av names they'd best be. Wan av me ould man's brothers had foive first names an' growed up wid de name av ' Reddy ' because av de color av his hair. Luk at thot, now. Phwat is de sinse av but wan name for wan person ? Tell me thot, bye. If I'd the good forchune to have tin childer it's but wan name aich would they have for" " I have a great deal of ground to cover to-day and must work as rapidly as possible in the taking of names. Your husband's name is Patrick Clancy ?" " It is thot, an' it's a name he's no nade to be ashamed av, for — where was he barn ? Where should he be barn but in ould Oireland ? He'd not feel he was a real Clancy was he barn annywhere else. Is it to go in de buk where he was barn ? Luk at thot, now ! An' do ye want his photygraft to put in wid it ? Dear, dear ! De Clancys are lukin' up whin it comes to havin' their names put in a buk. But phwat is it all for .' Phwat is de good av a cinsus buk ? How ould is he ? Is thot to go in de buk too ? Wan wud t'ink Pat Clancy was nothin' less nor an alderman, wid his name an' his age an' where he was barn arl bein' put in a buk. He'll be thot set up it's no livin' wid him will there be. If ye'll shtep insoide I'll show ye his photygraft, an' a good loikeness it is, phwat there is av it. It's phwat they call a half-len'th photygraft an' he's no legs in it. He'd it taken for a shurprise on me, an' wilin he showed it to me I says, says I, ' For hivin's sake, Pat Clancy, where is yer legs ?' An' lor a minnit I'd de cowkl shivers thinkin' he'd lost his legs in a axidint av some koind an' he'd tuk thot way av breakin' de bad news to me. Phwat is de sinse av wan havin' no legs in a pho- tygraft whin it's blist wid two good legs they are ? It's phwat is called a soide view an' o'ny wan eye shows, an' he had to pay as much for it as if he'd both legs an' both eyes in it, so it's ch'ating himsilf he was whin he made thot bargain. There was a mon here but yistiday wantin' to inlarge de photygraft to de same soize as Pat an' put him in a goold frame, arl for sivin dollars in paymints av fifty cints a wake, an' I'd of had it done for a shurprise on Pat o'ny de mon wouldn't consint to put his legs an' his other eye in de picture, an' I'd not be ch'ated as Pat was. It's de iasy-goin' t'ing Pat is, annyhow, an' lucky he is to hov a wolfe to luk afther de dollars an' cints, or it's in de poor-house we'd be instid av us havin' good money in de savin's bank, an' both av us inshoored, so whin we die it will be for each other's benefit, and there' 11 be two hun- dred dollars to de good for wan iv us whin de other dies. Phwat is my name an' me age ? Tut, tut, tut, bye, an' where is yer manners to be goin' round ringin' durebells an' askin' de leddies how ould is they ? Hivin defind ye if ye ask some o' de leddies in this block how ould they are ! It will be loike Ann Hoolihan to be passin' herself off for twinty-nine whin she's a bye past nineteen, an' de best part of her hair is a wig. Phwat is de good of puttin' de leddies' ages in a cinsus buk ? How ould did Bridget Murphy, in de tinnymint below, say she was ? Ye're not allowed to tell ? Tin to wan Bridget herself niver tould, for it's a p'int on which she's sinsitive, her bein' a good tin years oulder than her husband, an' I — excuse me a minnit, but I shmells me bread burnin' in de oven an' it musl be looked afther, cinsus or no cinsus. I'll be back in a jiffy." But when she returned the " cinsus " man was gone, having made a note in his book to the effect that he would call at a time when he could see Clancy himself, and Mrs. Clancy went back to her work, saying, " To de divil wid de cinsus ! Phwat is de good av it arl ? He'd not got me age from me had he shtood there until he was ould as I am. I'll not have me age put in anny cinsus buk for anny wan to see an' fling up to me it I happens to want to sharten it by a few years now an' thin. To de divil wid de cinsus !" BLIND HOPE. MRs Hawback — " Our son at town sez in his letter fer me ter send five dollars ter him ier a manicu5'e set. Sez he must look after his nails." Mrs. Hawback — "Better send it to him. pa. Perhaps he's I'amin' the carpenter trade." ''fr the Little Fat Stranger By Louis J. Stellmann T. PETER surveyed the throng of appli- cants with a clouded brow. "We are granting admission, at pres- ent, only to those who present the very highest credentials," he said. " The war in the orient has overcrowded us with heroes. Our supply ot harps has run out and the commissary angel has been forced to put in an extra requisition for halos. So, you see, ladies and gentlemen, we've been compelled to raise the immigration standards. Yes, we're turning away a good many, and over at purgatory they're complaining about it — but we can't help it. Fall into line, please." A couple of railroad presidents, who confessed to rebates, and a banker from Oberlin were quickly disposed of. A life- insurance magnate and a Chicago bigamist followed suit. " Where are we going to find accommodations .'" asked the latter sullenly. St. Peter indicated an asbestos-lined elevator. " Going down !" yelled the imp at the lever. St. Peter paused to welcome the inventor ol an unlos- able collar-button and a woman who had devoted her life to plain housekeeping. Then he signaled to the elevator imp. "Wait a moment," he said. " Here are some more." He rapidly weeded out a writer of problem plays, an appendicitis specialist and the president ot a woman's club. " Gee !" exclaimed a little lat stranger at the rear. And he laughed. The severity of St. Peter's countenance relaxed into milder lines. An American society girl who had married for love was admitted. An honest politician was passed with a handshake. A reformed train-robber who had refused to go on the stage or write the story of his life was given a special-privilege badge. An author whose novel of the old south was not based on a southern girl's love for a northern soldier was decorated with the cross ot honor. At each of these incidents the little fat stranger laughed and made some amusing remark. With his second cach- innation St. Peter's already modified sternness became a smile, with the third a grin, with the fourth a chuckle, and with the fifth his sides shook with a hearty cackle of enjoyment. Finally the little fat stranger's turn came. "Well, my friend," inquired St. Peter, " what qualifica- tions have you got for entrance into joy everlasting ?" The little fat stranger shifted his feet uncertainly. •' I'm pretty good company," he said, with a bland smile. "What did you do while on earth ?" • " I was a hardware drummer." " Hm ! Did you give any money to charity ?" The little fat stranger bubbled with reminiscent mirth. "Did I!" he gurgled. " Betcher pinfeathers. That's my wife's name." St. Peter turned to hide a smile. " Did you rescue the- fallen ?" " Picked up two fellows once that fell off a hay-wagon." " Ha 1 Ha !" said St. Peter in spite of himself. " What was the best deed of your life ?" " Ten acres in the Texas oil fields," replied the little fat stranger. "Sir," cried the next man in line impatiently. " This- is frivolity. I demand to be heard. In forty years oJ metropolitan life 1 never swindled the street-car company out of a nickel." " And I never asked any one if it was hot enough for him,". urged a second. " iTiiissed more than twenty trains without swearing," exclaimed a third. "I'm the only milkman in New York who didn't use- Fortnaline !" yelled another. " Give us a chance." St. Peter consulted his watch. " It's pretty near clos- ing time, " he observed. "I'm alraid I can't let you in — unless there's something else " The little fat stranger button-holed St. Peter with naive- geniality. "Say, I've got something funny to tell you," he con- fided, gurgling at the memory of it. " Let's go around the corner a minute — out of the crowd." And, despite the murmur of protest which arose, he led St. Peter away. For a time the 'anxious applicants heard nothing but snatches of laughter from the little fat stranger — blithe, whole-souled laughter that was echoed by the deeper cachinnations of the old saint. Then the pair returned, arm in arm, and passed through the gate together. A wail of despair arose from the waiting ones, but St. Peter did not hear. Soon after an attendant locked the gate and hung out a placard reading, " Examinations Closed." It was not until they had reached the celestial plaza, tert blocks away, that St. Peter suddenly recovered himself. " Good gracious !" he exclaimed in self-reproach, " E ought to have let in some of those others. There was a Chicago woman who had never been divorced." He turned to the little fat stranger, who had already- persuaded a bystander to give him a halo and was cajol- ing another out of his harp. " How do you do it ?" he asked wonderingly. "I don't know," replied the other. "It was always- that way. I sold more goods than any other man in my territory. All the men were my friends and the women, thought I was great." ..." Much obliged," he said, bowing to the angel he had despoiled of a harp. "Don't mention it," replied the harpless one. St. Peter left in bewilderment. For a long time he thought deeply ; then he made his way to the registration department. There he caused the name of the little fat stranger to be inscribed on the roll — and, after it, in the space devoted to "merits in full," he told them to write, " He has an infectious laugh." ( 7 f A GASTRONOMIC INTERPRETATION. Deacon Fowls — " Happy Thanksgibbin' ter yo'." Parson Coops—" Same ter yo". We should all have somethin' ter feel thankful lb'.' Deacon Fowls — •■ Yais. I's gwine altah one, too." s" like we see 'em now down oi» e levee — dey nebber git nowhar n time. Dey kep' a-foolin' roun' till cle watah wuz mos' used up an' dar wuzn't nuffin' lef but a leetle snaky pool a-runnin' 'long de groun', an' when de las' lot seed it all gone dey jumps in on all fours an' dabble roun' and wet (leir ban's an' deir footsies ; an' (lat's how mah ban's cum white inside, an' dat's all I knows erbout it, honey. Woke Up. IVaggles — " That college pro- fessor is more successful since he gave up trying to reason out every- thing by deduction." Juggles — " How does he do it now ?" Waggles — " Uses a little boss sense." Experience. lif E suffer much distress on •' Account of you. old bore ! You teach us all the lesson We thought we knew before. How the Palms Became White. /^NCE on a time eberybody wuz black — yer gran'daddies, Ab- raham an' Moses an' Norah wuz black, 'case dey nebber had a bath. Gawd say ter Hisse'f, " i's a-gwine ter turn 'em inter white folks, an' I'll send a pool ob watah, so all kin take a bath." Well, de libeliest niggers gits dar fust an' jumps in an' splashes roun' till dey turns white, an' dat's how all yo" white folks cum erbout. I hates ter say it, honey, but dem fust niggers wuz so black an' dirty, an' dey muddied up de watah sech a terrible lot, dat when de nex' Datch ob niggers cum erlong de watah was so cullud dat dey all on 'em turn inter merlattoes when dey jumps in, an' dat's how all de merlattoes cum in dis heah worl'. 'Cose eberybody wanted ter take a bath, so dey kep' a-jumpin' In lickerty split till dey'd all tuk deir turn 'cept de laizy, triflin' nig- gers, what'^no good fo' nuffin — THE THANKSGIVING TURKEY. "Golly! ain't he fat?" " Yep ; but I bet if he knowed wot wuz a-comin' ter him he'd worrj' himself thinner 'n a rail." ( -( 7 ILLUSTBATED BT jAMES MONTGOMEKT FLAGG. BELIEVE them pickerel is as big a lie as flyin' fish !'' exclaimed 'Squire Brackett, from over Hogback. " Me, too !" assented Landlord 'Kiar Biff, shaking his head solemnly. It all began by 'Kiar Biff remarking that he had heerd that the pickerel fishin' was jest more than prime — the cold weather having come, and the big pond back in the hills being frozen over — and by Solomon Cribber, who had just come in from the Pochuck neighborhood, tak- ing up the remark with some snap, and exclaiming, " Pickerel fish- in' ! Didn't know there w a s a n y pickerel any more. " And thus the evening was opened. "What!" and 'Kiar turned rather fiercely on Solomon. "Why, there hain't never been a time knowed sence fish was made when pickerel was so plenty, and so savage and ram- pagein' to git at sumpin' to eat, as they be this here very winter, right up yender on the pond ! And nobody knows it better than you do, neither, dodscol ■ lop ye I" ■' You're a leelle savage and rampagein' yourself, to-night, ain't you, 'Kiar.?" said Mr. Crib- ber, but he grinned as if he was pleased at the mood he had worked the landlord into. 'But it don't make no difl^erence. You don't know what a real, genuine savage and rampagein' pickerel is, all the same, 'cause there ain't none no more." " Do you mean to set there and tell me that I diin't know pickerel when I see 'em.'" snapped the landlord. "But, Kiar, you don't see none," persisted the Pdchuck chronicler, now bland and smiling. "Not the real, genuine savage and rampagein' ones. I guess vou'dsaysoif — there I I went and fergot to ask Cousin Marcellus Merriweather when he was down if there was any o' them pickerel left, up on the old Passa- ilankv. Seems as if I was gittin' fergitfuUer and fer- gitfuller every day. No, 'Kiar : you don't see none. Nut the real, genuine savage and rampagein' ones, and 'I KNOWED FR(1M THE LOOKS OF HIM THAT THE C.\LF WAS INSIDE OF HIM.'" -kn fierce: pickerel of the east -wind I guess you'd say so if you'd ever knowed anything about the rampagein' and savage east-wind pict;erel of the old Passadanlcy." " East-wind fiddlesticks!" snorted the landlord, and 'Squire Brackett said " Pish ! Tush !' '• What !" exclaimed Mr. Cribber ; " didn't you ever hear o' them pickerel ? Them pickerel of the old Passa- danky, that nobody didn't dast fish fer when the wind was in the east ?" " Pooh !" was all the reply that 'Kiar made, and 'Squire Brackett said, " Ridic'lous, Solomon ! ridic'lousi" '• Well, this is the most amazin'est of all things !" de- clared Mr. Cribber ; but there was nothing in the grin on his face to denote that he was amazed even slightly. ' Amazin est of all amazin' things ! Why, I'm glad I come had sent me out to hunt up a calf that was lost, their idee bein' that it had broke out o' the pen and was some'rs around the clearin'. But my idee was that it had gone off with a bear, and so I snuck the gun and went out to find it. " I come up to the bear by and by, and I knowed from the looks of him that the calf was inside of him ; but he wasn't satisfied w-ith that and the minute he seen me he concluded he'd put me in alongside the calf, and he come fer me like a steam injine. But I put somethin' in him that didn't set as well on him as I would 'a' sot, and he laid down and died. I drug the bear back two miled to the clearin' and met my old dad, who had started to look fer me, and lie was madder than snakes. When he seen me draggin' that dead bear he lit on to me. " ' I sent you to hunt up the calf, and here you come '' THE HULL rampagein' PACK WAS AT MY HEELS.' over, now, 'cause it ain't likely you d ever 'a' heerd o' them pickerel if I hadn't, and you'd gone on thinkin that you had seen savage and rampagein' pickerel to your dyin' day. Whatever it mowt 'a' been in them old Passadanky pickerel that made 'em so rampagein' durin' the east wind I can't make affidavit to, but everybody up there knowed that setch they was, and no mistake. I hain't got time to tell you much about 'em, but I kin give you an inklin' as to their natur that '11 mebbe be satisfyin' to you that you hain't never see none that was the real genuine. '• Long before I got big enough to gether in my first bear, I'd heerd our folks and others talk about them fierce east-wind pickerel — and that hadn't been setch a long while, neither, come to think of it, cause I was only jest turnin my ninth year when I got that bear. Our folks a-luggin home a worthless old bear !' he hollers to me> ' Where's that calf ?' he hollered. " Hold your horses, daddy,' I said. ' Hold your horses ! You jest cut this bear open,' I says, ' and you'll find the calf,' I says. " That made the old feller grin, and he says, " ' Thumps !' he says. ' You'll be tacklin' them east- wind pickerel next, he says. " So you see I hadn't heerd 'em talk about them east- wind pickerel so tremendous long before I had killed my first bear, after all, 'Kiar, and two or three years after that I says to myself, one o' the coldest days there was that winter, " ' I'm gittin' tired o' hearin' about them rampagein east-wind pickerel tha^ nobody don't dast to go and try to ' *J V FIERCE PICKEREL OF THE EAST 'WIND ketch,' I says, ' and I'm jest goin' to have a hack at 'em. This very day, too,' I says, ' providin' they've got the pluck to show up ag'in me,' I says. ' I'm goin' to fetch a mess o' them pickerel home,' I says, ' or else I'll make a mess far them pickerel,' I says. " So I rigged up a lot o tip-ups and went to the big pond where them pickerel lived. I went out on to the pond more than a miled before I cut a hole, 'cause if there was goin' to be any muss with them pickerel I wanted 'em to have a chance fer themselves. I cut a dozen holes in the ice and put in my lines. There wasn't any wind of any kind, and I danced and slid around on the pond fer two hours or more and not a consarned pickerel, east wind, west wind, south wind nor north wind, even showed as much as a fin. " ' I've got enough o' this," I says. ' I don't want to hear no more about these rampagein' east-wind pickerel,' I says. " I took up my lines and tip-ups and started fer shore. I guess I hadn't got more than forty yards or so, when out o' the east come the wind, boomin' like a hurricane. "'Jest my luck,' says I. 'I can't go back and fool with no pickerel now,' I says. " But I stopped and looked around. 'Kiar, it would 'a' done your heart good to 'a' seen that sight ! It would so. Out of every one o" them tip-up holes a pickerel, the big- gest I had ever see, had his head popped, and they was all lookin' around with glarin' eyes to see what was gom' on. They got their eyes on me and out o' them holes they come a-pilin', and more behind 'em, and they come fer me like a pack o' wolves. Their mouths was wide open, and actu'ly frothin'. Their teeth stuck up like bear teeth. They was out fer blood, and I knowed it. " ' Here !' I says. ' My folks don't know where I be, ■ and they'll all be crazy wild if I don't git back. I guess I'll put off getherin' a mess o' east-wind pickerel till some day when 1 got more time,' I says, and I turned and legged it fer shore. " I glanced back over my shoulder everj- little while, and I could see that pack o' big pickerel was gainin' on me like all-possessed. I had half a miled o' pond to git over yit, and I calc'lated that if I could reach the shore I could laugh at them pickerel, and tell 'em to wait fer me till I come up ag'in and I'd show 'em some p'ints worth knowin'. But it begun to look as if they'd git their hooks on to me before I sot foot on land, fer they was coverin' that space betwixt me and them in a way you wouldn't scarcely believe. But I dug my toes in the ice and went on a-hummin'. I landed on shore, and the pickerel was two rods behind me. I run on a little ways and then stopped to do my laughin' at the rampagein' pack, but when I turned around, 'Kiar, them pickerel was climbin' right out after me, and never stoppin' to take breath ! " ' Thumps !' says I. ' I'm scrapin' up sort of an en- durin' acquaintance with these east-wind pickerel, as it looks to me,' I says. "But I turned an, struck out to give 'em another brush. I hadn't run fur, though, before the hull ram- pagein' pack was at my heels. I seen a tree jest ahead o' me and I made fer that. I skinned up it and was ketchin' holt o' the first branch, ten foot from the ground, as the pickerel got to the foot o' the tree. " ' I guess I'll stop and do that laughin' now,' I says. " I looked down, and was jest in time to see half a dozen o' the head pickerel gether themselves and spring. They shot up Into the tree as easy as a cattymount could 'a' done it, and every one of 'em got a grab on to me. Down we went, all in a heap, and the hull pack pitched on to me. I shet my eyes and waited to be chawed, but I didn't feel no chawin'. That su'prised me, and by and by I opened my eyes kind o' keerful and took a sly look. Every one o' them pickerel, 'Kiar, was layin' there on the snow as mild and meek as lambs ! Then I seen what the matter was. The east wind had stopped as sudden as it had started in, and of course all the ramp igein' went out o' them pickerel at the same time, that bein' the amazin' natur' o' the beasts. I got a big club and knocked 'em all in the head, and cleaned up a two-hoss wagon load of 'em. So, 'Kiar, rememberin' them east-wind pickerel of old Pas- sadanky, I stick to it that there ain't no pickerel no more, not unless there's some o' them east-wind fellers yit — and I'm madder than a snake 'cause I fergot to ask Cousin Marcellus Merriweather, when he was down, if there was any of 'em left. I'm goin' home this minute and write to him and ask him about it before I fergit it." It was some time after Solomon had gone before any one spoke, and then 'Squire Brackett, from over Hogback, turned to 'Kiar and said, " I believe them pickerel is as big a lie as flyin' fish !" " Me, too !" assented 'Kiar, shaking his head solemnly !« '^. * ^. ?*? ^. He Couldn't Play It. jlADEREWSKI JoseflFy Fortissimo L^e Was tlic greatest pianist you ever did see ; He rendered fantasias, gavottes and cantatas, Cadenzas and overtures, fugues and sonatas. He could play like the sweep of a rushing cyclone, Or as softly and low as the sf)uth wind's faint moan. He knew all the works of Beethoven and Liszt. Of Wagner and Chopin — not one had he missed. He gained honors and laurels wherever he went. And he knew he deserved them, so he was content. But his pride had a tall, for one summer day .A. dear litde girl came to hear this man play ; And she said, as he turned politely to greet her. " Please, sir, can you play ' Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater '?" He was deeply chagrined, and he felt very blue. But he meekly replied. '-No, I can't dear ; can you?" " Oh, yes," she responded. She flew to the keys. With her two fat forefingers she played it with eaise ; And she afterward said, " I would rather be rae Than Paderewski Joseffy Fortissimo Lee." •z*> 3 o o S S ri g o O p.— 2 o ^ ^ »-( O I— I "^ 2. O 3 3. M 2 ^ > r o c; M ^^"^ How To Elope Successfully By R. N. Duke TATISTICS show that there will be 2,319 elopements in the United States in the next year. That is the normal expectation, as the in- surance men say. Of course the figures may vary. Elopements are largely due to the girl in the case. It's her specialty. I might go so far as to say that if there were no girls there would be very few elopements. When a sweet girl whispers to a man, " Let's elope," the bystander takes no risk when he puts up all he has that there will be an elopement in that neighborhood at an early date. Last yeaj^'s elopements were planned for the most part by men. This year we may expect the girl to take the initiative. When you want to see blundering incompetence on a mammoth scale, something in the way of a fizzle that will stand out by itself and be its own shin- ing advertisement, let a man get in his fine masculine work on an elopement. When a girl plans an elopement success is written all over it trom the moment the ladder is placed at the win- dow of the lean-to to the happy moment when pa gathers the whole joint outfit into his arms and says '• Bless you, jny children." Take a case m point. Last August, Eddie Rowerly, of Persimmon Flats, concluded to elope. He took the affair in hand, planned it from " a" to izzard, arranged all the de- tails. In all respects it was Ed's elopement. Kathryn Hagerty was scarcely more than a lay figure in the adven- ture, a delightful accessory, as it were, but that was all. The night arrived, a half-moon stood off over Penny's brick-yaril, and white bunches of cloud sailed in dreamy luxuriance through the silvered magnificence of the heavens above the Hagerty poultry farm. Dim stars shone fitfully in the deep dome beyond the clouds, and ever and anon the Hagerty rooster declared that it was day, when, as a matter of fact, it wasn't twelve o'clock yet. Suddenly on the dark side of the Hagerty home a tall ladder lifted itself stealthily toward a second-story window. By fixing our gaze attentively upon the foot of the ladder we shall see that it is being operated by brave Eddie Rowerly, who stands in the middle of a rose-bush under the window, slowly filling his system with the early rose thorn. If we glance up now we shall see the window slide up noiselessly. Kathryn is excessively on the qui vive. Eddie joyously mounts the ladder. His heart swells with pride. His plans are working out ! Then Ed went swiftly through the window, leaving a portion of his raiment on the shutter fastening as a souvenir. The room was dark. He heard a whispered " Here I am !" " Ah ! love, come to my arms," he whispered in reply. " I am going to carry you down the ladder. Put your arms round me. Now cling tight. Easy now. There, you can't squeeze me too close, sweetheart. I love to be squeezed. I went through a cider-press once." Edward Rowerly was slowly descending the ladder with his precious burden. Kathryn was done up in a shawl and veiled until she was like a bolt of tailor's cloth with arms. But the Rowerly heart felt the antiphonal thrill of the Hagerty heart inside of the bundle and he was happy. " Now, darling, let us be quick," he said, as he safely landed at the foot of the ladder. Then he tore aside the veil and implanted a passionate kiss upon — the two weeks' growth of beard on the face of little old man Hagerty; Kathryn's pa. Edward Rowerly's elopement stopped right there. It didn't go another inch. Jim Hagerty took a small work by Smith & Wesson out of his blouse and lovingly rubbed it over Eddie's cheek and poked it against his vest pocket, and joked with Ed, and asked him to take his ladder and go out of the yard, and be careful not to tread down the turnips out by the well, and please to shut the gate after him. Now, that vi'as a man's elopement. A man had worked it from the ground up and down again and clear into the sod. Let us see how a woman does it. Along in October Miss Josephine Sylvester Moler, of Kokomo, got up a little private elopement for herself and a young man friend by the name of Billings. " Now, Billings," she said, in her winsome way, " I'll run this elopement. All I want of you is to be within call when needed. You are a part of the elopement, you un- derstand, but in no sense the head of it. I want you to feel just as happy as if you were runnmg it, only I want you to distinctly understand that you ain't. Now, I be- lieve we are ready to proceed." This is not all Josephine said, but I have given enoijgh to show how matters were shaping themselves on the threshold of the married life of these two young, trusting souls. We shall see now how the affair panned out. Erasius Billings lay dreaming upon his couch at the witching hour of two a. m. on a drizzly morning. He had been warned to be ready to elope at that hour, but it had slipped his mind. Fair Josephine saw that she was likely to be foiled, and instantly she decided upon a heroic measure to win out in the way she had determined. Erastus did not know that the chute of one of his father's coal-wagons was being hoisted to his window. He was all unaware that a vigorous, energetic, masterful young woman by the name of Moler was even now lifting the inside fastening of his window shutters with a putty-knife. How could he know that lithe Josephine had clomb up '^5,'" the grape arbor and was now cutting a small circle of glass from his window-pane with a glazier's wheel ? He did not see a resolute arm, sleeved in some soft, warm goods, deftly reach through the hale and turn the catch at the top of the sash. All unwilling was he when the win- dow was raised and a tall, muscular young female strode lightly across the room. Still he slept when she gazed upon him in the half darkness and said to herself, " Ah, dear Billings crawled in last night with his boots on, so I am spared any delay on that account, thank heavens !" Alas ! Billings did not awake until he dreamed that he was sliding down the side of a wheat elevator. But he awoke then. To his surprise he found that he was in the onion bed in the rear lot. Josie had delivered hmi down the coal chute. Hastening down the grape arbor hand over hand, she picked him up lightly and ran out of the ward. " We have eloped, Billings," exclaimed Josephine joy- ously, as she sped down the road toward the parsonage. " Soon you will be mine." An hour later they were made one, and Josephine was it. When you wish to elope let the girl attend to it. It's in her line. Money is not necessary to happy nuptials, but it is ab- solutely necessary to a happy elopement. Beware of the dog. A healthy dog chasing an elope- ment over the back fence by the light of the moon is a foe to the marriage tie. Marriage ties, by the way, without money, are apt to be a case of cross ties befdre the honeymoon tour is ended. Some elopements are very happy and enduring ; but you'd be surprised how quick some people elope and then lope back again after they see how it is. The eloping habit should be avoided in times like these. Algernon Baxter sits in a cell iw Punxatawney at this moment bitterly bewailing the day the eloping habit first got into his system. He has been paying alimony to two ladies of his acquaintance, and now a third has come upon the scene and asked for alimony. Baxter says they already have " all 'e money " he has. Poor Algernon ! He eloped three times when once would have been ample. Ample. Ada — " Do you get much exercise .'" May — " Why, yes. I have no maid, and I have a waist that buttons in the back." The Weather-man. W'EN de weathah-flag of " warmah " flies, You bettali git yo' coat ; An' w'en yo' tee de flag fer "col'," You needn't take no note. W'en de weathali-man ain't weathah-wisc He's othahwise, I guess ; By sciyunce he serves de weathah up, An' de Lawd— he does de res'. SILAS X. FLOVD. HIS PROFESSION. Bill Throttle, he was a civil engineer. '^U^f ONE TOO MANY. Ethel—" 'Sh ! That 's papa's footstep." A Rehabilitated Healer. TIME was when the barber was not a mere manipulator of the brush and razor, but a chirurgeon, and the time has almost come again. History is repeating itself on a higher plane. Men who are in the know regard an up-to-date barber as a friend in need, and look upon his studio as a shelter in a time of storm. When a good fel- low has been celebrating a birthday or a high rite of the mystic shrine, it is "not to the family physician he tells his sorrows, but to George, the barber. When it comes to knitting up the raveled sleave of care and £.-noothino- down a frayed nervous system, the ex- pert barber has the whole college of physicians and surgeons cuticled from the start. One morning an actor, who was " resting " and had sat up most of the previous night with a sick friend, bulged through the door of a Broad- way barber-shop and, catching the appropriate pose, rumbled at the chief expert, " Canst thou not minister to a mind dis- eased. Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain?" " Sure, 1 can," said George without batting an eyelid at this Macbeth gag. " What you need is to have your face manicured, your brain massaged and your sub-conscious- ness shampooed. We will begin with a hot towel on the back of your neck, and when I have pushed in your whis- kers ni put you through the course, and have you wind up by inhaling a lavender cocktail." Twenty minutes later that young man was feeling like a man and a brother, and as he paid the fee he listened to the good advice regarding the liquid part of his diet with the deference due to an authority. There is no question about it— the barber is more than coming to his own. He is not a mere chirurgeon, but an alienist. George — -Quick, darling! One more.' Is he coming this way ? She Blushed. Che took the pledge. Oh. do not think "^ The ruddy hue of her complexion Was caused by anything to drink — She took the pledge of his aflTection. W. D. NESBrr. 'S Truth. n I IFE," observes the sage, " is '■^ what we make it." Having rolled this thought around in his head for a few moments, he nods wisely and supplements it with, " And so is our autobiography." His Definitions. THERE was a small boy went to • Sunday-school. When he went home his mother asked him what the lesson was about. " Faith," says the boy. " What's that ?" his mother asked. " Believin' what you've got every reason to suppose ain't so," the boy replies. " And then," he afterward remarks, "there was some talk about duty, too." " What's duty?" his mother asked him." "Oh, duty," he replied, " is any old thing that you have got to do when you want to play baseball." George — "Raw bah Jove ! Good-bye *• This Serum Business. ther too rum faw a joke, ,.r>TMrr>x' • i i fawevah '" IIODERa science is real marvel- • " ous. For instance, this serum business is fine for doctors. I know one. He doctored Cyrus Peck and all his folks. Cy is a mighty good old chap. He come down with lockjaw. Doc he drew some serum from his wife's uncommon busy jaws and pumped it into him. It loosened of him up right quick, but, 'fore it did, Doc tapped his cheek and got enough of lockjaw juice to fix up Mrs. Cy with a slight attack that will last her all her life. That family is happy, now, for the first time since Mrs. Cy first got her breath after the excitement of the weddin' ceremony, forty year ago. ^-o ( o O •5] c o (H XT 5 3 o p 1 •" 3 > Xf s W 3 "§ 01 a. ^ % Q 3 rt- O -a 5- The KELLliW BLHIND- Second avenue." ■ Now you gimme back my orange ! I only sa d you could s jck it as tar us WHY THANKFUL? What are we thankful for ? That is a question That sometimes puzzles e'en a dinner guest : The rich are thankful for a good digestion, The poor if they have something to digest. HIS LOSS. " Confound the infemal> luck !" the able editor of the Pretyville Plaindealer was snorting, as a friend entered the office. " Gosh- hang the blankity-blanked demon that stole, borrow- ed, or made 'way with our electrotype of the late- Pydia E. Linkham !" " Aw, what's the differ- ence ?" questioned the vis- itor. "That worthy lady has been dead several. years, and " " The difference !" howl- ed the angry scribe. " What in tophet and so- and-so are we going lo- use for a portrait of the dowager empress of China ?" THE PASSING OF THE. HORSE. Boivker — " They are evidently keeping pace with the spirit of the times- over in Paris just no%v ?" Jowker — " Why do you think so ?" Bowker — " Why, because they have just intro- duced a horseless sausage over there." WOMAN'S REASONING. Mrs. Cobu'igger — " It would be a great saving if Christmas came in Janu- ary." Cobwigger — " How do you figure that out .'" Mrs. Cobwigger — " One can buy things so much cheaper in the stores after the holidays." DISCOURAGEMENT. " What makes you cry so bitterly, little boy ?" :isked the kind gentleman. "De t'ree Sunday- schools I j'ined is goin' ter have der Christmas treats all on de same night," wailed the little boy. •' Boo-hoo !" Colic — A malady to which diplomatic youngsters are addicted about school-time. C.AD — An author who thinks that the favor of a hn-de-siecle publishing house constitutes him a leader of the age. SAVING GRACES. Turtle — "It's queer how unpopular that porcupine is." Crane — "Yes ; because he really has a great many good points." -E/6f X w a a n > n 7i p_ rt BJ «k 3 re 2 -3 3- 2 n ■-;:■ J^ — o Z-5 C 3 3 a. -H X 3 3- g H p" ? c,?- • 5:, ^ "> n p -I D. M • , 3 5- in C3 H ro w ft 3 2 a: P CTQ 3* 5 o 3 rD -n (Ti P 1 i 3 IT [/) C 3" > c > 3 P n r. S3 c irq N O rr T rrq HH CfQ < 3 0' ^. n [/I < =r 5' o r> 3 3 a 3" O' 01 o p H E' n ra -( rn P a^ d 3 3" 2. O* < ru t/i o ^< 3' < 0' (T C P n> 3 2 p p ft It 3' »q 03. < •< (73- c cr on C ft 3 r; [/) n n' <-»■ n 1 3 3" 5' sr n > • o 3 3- r» 3 Oi 5' (X 3 O 3 p r) 3- c p c ■3 3 n 3 on; ^ (^ Oi Crq rD 1 -1 rs •^ rt *-* = o re o H hi^ ffi n t— 1 ST* Cl. r H D. crq r ;r v: S rr* wi' g v> 2- It' CO ■^3 ■^ n p /5 (T) ■n 1 cr 1 5' f t— « 2- n* § c 0, 0^ 3 t— 1 ^ 3 ?r a- crq " Orq_ ^ o p o wi 5 o a , o n^ 3 ■<; 3' • H fD „ C- 3 crq "33 : - ? o "^ o 3 ^ — 3 t Si ^ 3. :*! >i o ■^ 0^ :• — a 05 ^5 1/1 3 I 3- O orq •■u crq H P — c 3 ^ CI g3 3- 3 # O s; o S 1^ I '^ ;^ c. __ 3 H S9 C/3 EP P :3 H » d. o_ ^ a. 3 3 3- >< ru ■ . 3 O T3 ^' ^ y n> a? fC a 3 ■ V The Post-office Investigation By Robert N. Duke VERY student of 'the postal sys- tem of this country must feel grateful that the whole subject has been so thoroughly gone over recently and some of the worst evils exposed. The trou- ble with the national post-office seems to be that it will take care of the baser matters in- trusted to it, but when it comes to the finer matters, where a single blunder may spoil every- thing, it is so apt to go wrong. For example, it will convey a bill or a dun with almost per- fect fidelity, but if it's a love- letter with a kiss inclosed the -^■r^ '-"^"^'-' entire machiner>' of the*^ mail service seems to be devoted to side-tracking that kiss and delivering it where it will do the most harm. A postal system that will strike twelve when it has a letter from the tailor and then fail miserably when a violet-scented osculation is inclosed can never be entirely satisfactory to a free people. Take this, for instance : " My dearest love — It hurts, dear, to know we cannot have Thanksgiving dinner together. Dearest, I cannot tell you how I missed you last night. It was so lonesome. But I must stop that right now. " We had such a good time in spite of my impatience. I hope you got home safely and will have a good Thanks- giving dinner. "Clinton, I love you, dear, and hope we can see each other soon. Love and kisses. BESSIE." Is there anything wrong in a letter of that kind ? Isn't that just the kind of a letter you have written yourself and may some time want to write again ? I am prepared to assert that that letter is consistent, o. k., and tills a long-felt want. You say the kisses might have been omitted, but could they ? Could a letter beginning " My dearest love " end without more or less business of that kind ? It does nol seem to me a normal inference from the facts of life as we know them. Be that as it may, what happened to the above letter ? How did the postal system of this broad land treat that privileged communication ? Everybody who read the papers a few weeks ago knows full well what this great branch of the public service did with that sweet billy-doo. It delivered it to Clinton's wife — that's what it did. And what did Clinton's wife do ? It ought to make this gov- ernment sick to read w-hat the woman did. She got right up in her wrath and made Rome howl. She said what a woman never says until she feels that the time has come to say it. According to the papers, which told of the di- vorce suit, I should think Clinton would never again be won back to the confidence he once had in the postal system. It was an awful throw-down. Look :at another case. A woman sued for breach of promise, and when she faced her whilom lover she brought into court a shoe-box full of letters. Every one of those letters ended with " love and ardent kisses." The poor chap was amazed to find that word " ardent " so often. Of course he would not have used it every time if the letters had been composed one right after the other. But the point is that the inadequacy of the postal regula- tions compelled him to put these kisses in in that way, and as he felt about the same way each time he forwarded a new consignment, he used the same shipping formula in each case. And they did him up. He had to step up to the cashier's window and settle for those " ardents " Just the same as if they were so many bales of hay. Ingenious folks have sought to get round this weak spot in our post-office administration. One alleged rec- reant lover was haled into court and the lovely complain- ant emptied a coffee-sack full of letters out on the floor of justice, but when the jurj' came to look them over they found that every letter ended up this way : " Yours, Jack 103." The girl explained that 103 had been agreed upon as a good-night code and meant, " Now, darling, I must close for this time as I have nothing more to say, but I hand you herewith the usual three million kisses." She testified that by this arrangement the kisses always reached her in good shape and were entirely satisfactory- delivered in this manner, but the jury sided with the post- office authorities and wouldn't see anything in that 103. but just its face value, as it were. From a careful study of divorce-court proceedings and the common or commercial love-letter, as you might call it, I have come to the conclusion that there is a crying- need in this matter. A kiss can be delivered when the parties are near at hand without trouble or loss in transit, but the crux of the problem is how to deliver the long- distance oscule. Naturally people want to exchange this commodity just as much when separated as when to- gether, but how are they going to do it, in the present imperfect stage of the mail system, so that everything Willi be satisfactory to all parties concerned afterward ? The postmaster at Job Hill lately discovered that every other day a post-card went through his office with a curi- ous arrangement of little circles all over it. Some ot the circles were very large, say about the size of cart-wheels, while others were small. He became worried and suspi- cious. .First he thought it was an anarchist plot. Therv he began to wonder if it wasn't some kind of a decoy scheme to trap him. But when he found that the card was taken from the box every time by a beautiful young" woman he smiled, and for the first day in weeks ate a hearty meal and took a nap in the back office that after- noon. Those circles were kisses. The big circles were the large-size, earnest kind. The little circles were just the little touch-and-go kind, and the in-between circles were variations on the same theme. I venture to say that if it -' f ■came lo a show-down in court those circles would be true to the young man, and yet they answered their purpose admirably at the time. There is a suggestion here that it would be well for all to take to heart, and yet all • must acknowledge that it is by no means a solution. You are writing to your girl or your fellow, as the case may be, and when it comes to the wind-up you say, " And now as the hour is growing late I must close. I send you a good-night. OOOOOOOO. "Jack." It's safe, but is it satisfactory ? Does it rise to the occasion ? Do you read it over and congratulate yourself that you have done the subject justice ? It does not seem to me that we can truthfully say so. Suppose you do it in this way : " As I can't think of anything more to say to-night I will close for this time. How I wish I was with you. The seven hundred miles that lie between us is all that keeps me from you. If it were not for that we would be together, and, oh, how happy we would be ! Well, good-night. " Your friend, " GUSSIE, 103." Does that seem adequate ? Isn't there a disappoint- ing, almost a chilly, abruptness about it ? You know what that 103 means, but can you feel sure that it is true to its mission ? You see, there is always the harrowing :suspicion that it may have slipped a cog or something .and reverted to its usual sense. If this style came into vogue letters like this would be choking the post-office soon : " Dear Jack — I got your letter with the regular weekly 103, but, oh. Jack, are you sure you mean the same you have meant heretofore, or is that last 103 just 103 and nothing more ? Jack, I am dying with a broken heart over this matter. If I thought you meant just 103 and nothing more. Jack, I believe I could murder you. Do write at once and tell me the truth, or I shall go mad. As ever, "Gertie, 1234. " (Jack, I mean 1234, too.) " I trust I have made it plain now that the postal officials ought to do something. The public has a right to ex- pect satisfaction in this matter. There are more things than grocer's bills and duns from the people who are put- ting music-boxes in your homes on the installment plan in this life. We want a mail system that will not play into the hands of the referee in chancery every time a' warmish statement passes through the slot and flies forth on its errand. Another great forward step would be taken if the gov- ernment would fix it so that when an author sends out his manuscript it wouldn't come back so all-fired quick, but that's another story. If it could be arranged so that the same promptness would be observed, but that instead of the author's piece a large cheque would come back, that would make our post-office, it seems to me, almost an ideal system. MORE TH.\N HIS DUE. Stage-hand (of " Faust " company) — " Say, Bill, dis is de most appreciative aujince we've struck. Dey be- tieves in givin' de devil his due." --? ■■ * 4/ /r?-'/^' ^ .6 o Q z •< IS c o o c . o ■OH £.-- > > W o z z o <; ■z(^ The Christian Scientist. UE had a madly jumping toolh ; * ' His pain was grievous, very. He only smiled and said " Forsooth, It's all imaginary." He lost a leg, he lost an arm ; But still the wight was merry. And faintly smiled, " Feel no alarm— Ifs all imaginary." He died ; and when old Charon came To row him o'er the ferry. His words and smile were still the same — " Ifs all imaginary." ALBERT rjrCELOW I'AINE. They Were All Right. UE was a typical backwoods farmer. His first visit to a city restaurant, however, had taken away none of the ap- petite he had at home, where everything was placed in large dishes on the centre of the table and each one helped himself. The waiter had piled the food around the plate in the customary little dishes, which the farmer cleaned up in turn. Settling back in his chair, he hailed the passing waiter. " Hey, there, young man ! your sam- ples are all right. Bring on the rest of the stuff." Golf. ITS strange you don't pl.ay golf. All the high-toned set do. Maybe they think it's funny to knock a homoeopathic pUl with a retrouss6-nosed stick over half a township. But I don't. MUST BE HUMILI.A.TING. Algernon — " It's quiie a come-down for him." Sydney — "What do you mean?" .Vlgernon — " Wh-en he is at home he belongs to the upper ten, but at col- lege lie is on the second eleven^" GOLD COIN IN IT. " Our fhrnn has: acquire* the Bbnanza gold-mine." "Why,, tkat mine was worked out long, agio." " No ; not yet. Two thousand ' suckers have an- swered our »<}«." The Force of Habft. ««THEY say tliat Versus's wife married him while he was still a struggling poet, on the ground that so thoughtful a man must make a good husband." " Hoiv (lid she get that idea about "hTm .'" " When he wrote to her, offering his hand, he mechanically in- closed a stamped atrd addressed envelope." Af the Zoo. Bobby — '• Say, mister, is this a cross-eyed bear ?" Keeper — " Nope, sonny ; who ever heard of a cross-eyed bear .?" Bebby (superiorly)—" I have ; they sang, yesterday, at Sunday- school about a consecrated cross I'd bear !" Coutdn't Miss It. <« CAY, old fellow! I'm in a big rush with this. Won't ) ou take the giri's place at the typewriter while she goes to lunch ? ' " But I don't know this key-board." " Oh, that'll be all right. This is an Illinois-Frencii-Canadian dialect poem I'm working on." \l Mr. Kittlcby's Chickens By W. D. Ncsbit HAT Josiah Kittleby should have gone into the pastime of raising chickens was no wonder. That he should have found it no pastime was no wonder. That he should have stuck to it obstinately, clung to it persistently, fussed and fretted over the chickens continually, was no wonder. There never was any won- der about anything Josiah Kittleby did. Mr. Kittleby's man-of-all-work, Erastus Johnson, a " cullud gemman " of the old school as to courtesy and chickens, had taken a great and abiding interest in the chicken-raising exploit of his employer. He had seen the flock of poultry dwindle from fifty fat pullets and two lazy roosters to fif- teen plump hens. He had seen Mr. Kittle- by's interest in the flock dwindle from a sun- rise visit, a noonday inspection and a twi- light farewell to a once-a-week look. " Mistah Kittleby," Erastus announced one morning, " them thah chickens er yo's sho'ly is a run- nin' dey haicls oflf pesticatm' 'roun' dis yah neighbo'hood. Dey done sp'iled all de flowehs in yo' yahd, en now dey rampagin" up en down all de yutheh yahds wuss'n er tribe erelephunts bruk outen er suhkus." •'Well, 'Ras," answered Mr. Kittleby, "I'm tired of those chickens. Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to dispose of the whole bunch to-morrow. Before I go into town I'll leave a note for you telling you what to do with •.hem." Erastus had reminded Mr. Kittleby that the iMohawk avenue Baptist church would have a grand supper and concert the next night, and that anything he chose to give to help the good cause along would be duly appreciated, but the discussion of the chickens seemed to have dis- missed the church supper from Mr. Kittleby's mind. When that gentleman said that he would dispose of the chickens he sent an idea into the head of Erastus which impressed him, as he acknowledged, "as fo'cibly as ef er wasp bed done socked 'is stinger inter mah haid." It was late in the afternoon of the next day when Erastus nar- rated the following tale of adventure : " Well, suh, w'en Mistah Kittleby done lol' me as how as he 'uz gwine ter 'spose er dem chickens, hit niek me meditate er heap, I kin tell yo'. De mo" I thinks er- bout hit, de mo' I gits hit in mah haid dat de 'casion call foh expeditiousin' wuk. En so I goes 'roun' pas' Deacon Jones's house en gits him ter call ol' Brotheh Bindo ovah ter his gate, en den I lays de outcomin' er mah meditations befo" de bofe er em. Afteh some saga- ciousin" 'round' we 'cides on er plan, en den we seperates en I comes back ter de bahn en finishes up mah wuk. At night hit was pow'ful dahk, bein' as dey ain' no moon en de 'lectable lights dey git de wires cross ev'y which way somehow ernurrer, en so hit hahd ter tell ef Deacon Jones en Brotheh Bindo is white pussons or cullud gem- men w'en dey slips inter de bahn. We t'ree sits dah irs de dahk ontwell pas' midnight, twell de white folks up at de house is all gone ter baid en ter sleep, en den we p'oceeds ter 'laborate mah plans. Deacon Jones he pos'es- hissef ovah by de wes' eend er de chicken-coop, en Brotheh Bindo he tek keer er de eas' side whah de winder is, en I goes inside ter 'lieve Mistah Kittleby er dem chickens. Hit's mah 'tentions ter lif dem one at er *ime fum de roos' en han' dem out ter Deacon Jones en Brotheh Bindo. De roos'es runs up en down on each side, en so I kin han" de- chickens fum side ter side ez .1 tek dem fum de roos.' Well, evvything goes erlong all right twell I gits all but five er dem hens handed out, en den what does 1 do but fall right swop ovah er big box er chicken feed. In co'se dat stahtles de five chickens what I isn't got, en in co'se hit skeer de life auten Deacon Jones and Brotheh Bindo,. ca'se dey think hit somebody inside de coop what done grab holt er me. Dem five chickens des begin er squawkin" en er scuttlin' en flies outen de winders en de do' en bump inter de faces er Jones en Bindo, en dem fool nig- gahs draps de bags what dey has all de res' er de chick- ens inside er 'em, en den dey sho'ly is er mons'us racket goin' on, what wid me foutin' wid de feed-box en de roos'in' poles what come down en whack me on de haid. en tangle in mah laigs en th'ow me mo' times den I km git up. " or Deacon Jones he lets out one whoop dat yo' kin heah clar ercross de crick, en stahts ter runnin' en lams. hissef up ergin'de fence so hahd dat he onj'ints he stom- ach en cain't eat nothin' foh nigh outer er week. Den he tek one mo' staht en des nach'ly to'e out er whole pandle er de fence en goes yippity-yip down th'oo town des de same as if de constabble is afteh him wid er gun en er pack er bloodhoun's. Ol' man Bindo he's got er lame laig en cain't run ve'y well, but he stahts de yutheh wa)'" en hit bein' dahk he cain't see whah he goin' en he ram hissef inter de side er de bahn en yell dat some one hit him wid er san'bag, en den pick hissef up en fall ovah de fence inter de alley en git hissef headed straight afteh lamin' his yuther laig on de fence on de yutheh side er de alley, an den he go down dat alley so fas' he leave er holler place in de aih behin' 'im. Dey say dem two men doan' wait ter open no gates ner do's when dey gits home. Deacon Jones bus' 'is own gate plum off er de hinges en nigh onter to'e de do' down erfo' his wife git up en onlock hit. En den he won' sleep nowhahs but undah de baid de res' er de nigiit, en tell 'is wile dat er passel er whitecap- pers is got me en tuk en tek me way ovah ter de nex county ter hang me afteh dey sicks er whole pack er bloodhoun's on me ter chew me up. Ol' Bindo he goes, inter his house th'oo de winder — th'oo de glass en all — en hide hissef in de lof 'en pray en sing twell daylight. En- all dis time I's thrashin' eroun' in dat fool chicken-coop. In co'se de white folks heahs me en puhty soon Mistatt Kittlebv comes er runnin' out wid he gun ter see what am (le matteh. En he bring er lante'n finally en dig me out fum undeh all de ness'es en rooses' en dat blame-fool feed- box what staht de whole rumpus. He ax me what in de debbil am de matteh, en soon 's I kin think up somethin' I tell him dat I hear some one er tryin' ter rob de hen- coop en 1 come out ter p'tect hit, en fo 'er five big men grab me en th'ow me inside en pile de whole business in on top er me. Den Mistah Kittleby des laff en say hit doan' matteh, he doan' keer er dam' erbout de chickens nohow, en foh me ter go on en wash mahsef en go ter baid. " Nex mawnin' dey is er note foh me, des lak he say dey gwine ter be. He done put hit in de tool-box in de bahn de ebenin' erfo', en dat hoccum I got hit. Wiiat yo think dat note say ? Hit read : • Mistah Erastusjohnsing, deah suh : Insomuch as I am erbout ter get rid er ma chickens I wishes ter tell yo' dat it is mah desiah ter donate dem ter de suppah ter be given ter de Mohawk avenue Baptis' ch'ch, consuhnin' which yo' has already spoke ter me' — des erbout dem ve'y wohds. En, dog mah cats 1 dat ain' bad ernuff, but de wusses' paht er de whole thing is dat dem fool chickens, once dey git stahted, dey doan' stop runnin' erway, en dey ain' nary fedder er any er em been seen 'roun dis town sence dat night." How Shall We Solve the Divorce Problem? IN wilds of Texas dwelt Sam Pugli, ' A lonely bachelor was he. He had to cook his own lieef stugh And other things like that, you se ; And if he had a racking cough No tender hand to nurse was there. So one day Samuel started ough Resolved U> find a maiden fere. A near-by town — 'twas somewhat tough — Revealed a damsel, trim and neat. Said happy Samuel, ■■ You're the stough ! Shall we before the parson meat?" She shyly blushed, and said, '• Although I scarcely know you, still I see That you're o. k. , and I will gough Along with you and married bee." Sam grinned with joy. It thrilled him through. So they were wed and Sam was glad And gently whispered, " I love yough !" It was a magic ride they had Across the prairie, which the plough Had never touched. Then, when at home Sam gayly said, "Now I'll allough That £rom this ranch we'll never rome." And now there is a son and heir Who plays before the ranchman's door. You'd love to see that happy pheir, Sam 's never lonely any moor. Their joy it would be hard to gauge, It's firee from quarrels and deceit. Sam never gets into a range And Mary's temper 's just as sweit. A man more true and free from guile Or of a more contented mien ; A woman with a happier smuile I'll bet a cent you've never sien. And if all folk were like these two With lives in harmony so keyed The lawyers would have less to dwo. Divorce courts we should never neyed fo undo marriages, because The hearthstones where true love holds reign Are ruled without the aid of lause — In happiness instead of peign. So from these two a lesson learn — A lesson big and wise and true. Oh, do not from its moral team ! It will help all, Ijiitli me and yue. The Ruling Passion. THE little crowd of wraiths huddled together in Charon's boat. One among them held himself aloof and spread himself over two of the seats. Charon went through the crowd, collecting the fares. When he ap- proached the aloof person that individual looked up haughtily. " Fare ? " he echoed ; " fare ? Why, I always travel on a pass." Then the other tourists recognized him as one who had been a trust magnate. Heredity. n I KNOW I'm losing my hair early in life," says the young man, pass- ing his hand over his bare scalp ; " but my father and grandfather became bald at twenty." " Ah," comments the pickle-nosed individual who is always thinking up such things, " then you are the heir to their hairlessness." I /;J 1^ A REAL SPORTSMAN. The boy above — -'Is dere any game round here?" The other — '■ Dere wuz. but I got it all." ^\'^ My Little Boy-beau. IT IS hidden away with the keepsakes ' Of summers and winters ago — A love-letter yellow and faded And creased, from my little boy-beau. The envelope reads, "To my dearest," The pages are tattered and torn, The childish handwriting is blotted, But it breathes of life's roseate morn. The little boy-beau is sleeping Where his regiment laid him to rest. In a uniform buttoned and braided. With a flag and a sword on his breast. But it is not the dashing young soldier In sabre and sasli that I see. But the little boy-beau with his ringlets — He will never grow older to me. Since, a girl of eleven, I found it Slipped into my grammar one day The years with their rains and their roses Have rapidly glided away. Lovers and hearts they have brought me. Tears and my portion of woe ; But never so pure an affection As the love of m>- little boy-beau. ftUNN.A IRVING. ;« CHUCKS!" said Mr. Meddergrass. " 1 believe these here patent-medi- cine fellers is all in cahoots." •' What makes you say that ?" asked ihe druggist. " Well, I've got five different almanacs so lar this year, an' every blame one of 'em is alike e.\cept fer the name of the medi- cine." EVERYTHING GOING DOWN HILL.' How She Worked It. (( RUT were the boarders not suspicious sometimes ? Did they not seem to act as if they doubted that the veal-stew was turkey ?" asked the news-gieaner. " Ah, but I took precautions," replied the retired boarding-house keeper. " I always stirred in a few feathers." What It Feasted Cn. T/te crank — " This turkey has a very salty taste." The star boarder — " Of course it has. The bird was raised on the seacoast. If Mrs. Mealerham will give you some of the dressing you will see that the turkey had feasted on oysters." ON THE WRONG TRAIL. Miss Phcebe — •• Mr. Johnson, de genelman I's settin' mah cap fo', spends two doUahs a week fo' cafriage-hire. Now, don't dat show appearances ob prosperity ?" _ Parent — "Appearances am deceitful, gal. De prosperity lies in Stable-keeper Jack- son's pocket. He am de man )o wants ter set yo'r cap fo'." IVitlte LittUboy (who has an inquiring mind) — "Papa, 'colonel' is a title, isn't it, that belongs to" Papa — " No, my son ; it is an opprobrious epithet." •2-0 Happy High Hunks. VOU bet I'm feeling pretty good. ' And any tunes my jig meet ; For now the back yard 's full of wood, The cellar 's full of pig-meat. And when I know that down my tliroat I can this fine old food pile, I'm happy as yon cat afloat And tacking down yon wood-pile. That's why my chest I gayly thump And all my face enamel With happy grins while I outhump With joy the circus camel. Why She Jumped. THE cow had just jumped over the moon. " I wanted to get out of the range of that deer- hunter's rifle," she explained. Hereupon the little dog laughed, showing that it had the true hunting instinct. Standard Directions. He — " I understand that Mrs. Wiggins re- jected Mr. Wiggins thirteen times before she ac- cepted him." She — " Yes. She evidently thought it best to shake well before taking-." Unanswerable. EMULATING the modern naturalist, we resolved to interview a rattlesnake. " Tell us," we asked, " if your buttons come off, will your wife sew them on for you ?" Having no antidote handy, we then judged it prudent to withdraw. tt^Y story," says the novelist to me, " is fiction, but it's founded upon fact." An' then I got to thinkiii' what a good world this would be if every man who claimed to tell the truth would admit as frankly when his fact was founded upon fiction. TF IT is a poor rule that won't work both w^ays, what shall be said of the many rules that refuse to work either way. Still Noisy. Mrs. Cobwigger — "Freddie seems to have broken nearly every one of his toys already." Cobwigger — " Yes, confound it ! all but the drum and the tin whistle." Driven to It. First writer — " My ne.xt story will be in dialect." Second writer — " What for ?" First writer — ■' I'm all out of plots." All Is Vanity. Cobwigger — " Hullo, old man ! Wheeling the baby- carriage, eh ? Why, where is your wife ?" Newpop — " Taking exercise at the physical-culture club." ON DECK. Miss Shadyside — " But why do you go out of your course to stop at the nearest port, captain ?" C.\PTAIN — "Madam, I want a mate." Miss Shadyside—" Oh, c-a-p-t-a-i-n ! this is so sudden !" as tii Li o 1 Z -c O 5 '^ tr. C O ■* rt 3 '■ ^'^ COUSIN MARCELLUS'S WIFE'S FATHER OR, THE REWARD OF KINDNESS BY ED MOTT "URTLES can't turn a summerset, nor i un a race, nor dance a jig, but don't you go and think tor a mmute that they ain't stuffed full o" brains. If they hadn't been, would Cousin Marcellus Meiri- weather's wife's father been her father? Well, scarcely not ! And he wouldn't only not been her father, but there'd been a blotch on the Jayboit family 'scutcheon that sandpaper never could 'a' scratched off! Never I Never! Quite a spell ot disturbin' and spattery sort o' weather we been havm', 'Kiar. Quite a spell. " 'Kiar Biff, of the Corners tavern, re- plied to Solomon Cribber, ot Pochuck, that we had been having quite such a spell, that was so ; but Landlord Biff showed no further interest in the Po- chuck chronicler, who had come over for a little visit with the Corners folks, plainly charged with a tale that he intended to tell before he wended his way homeward again on that rainy fall day. Tfie indifference of Kiar to his presence or his subject did not affect Solomon in the slightes' ; in fact, there was per- ceptible seif-reproach in his manner as he presently re- marked to the landlord : " I ought to been over before with this, I know, be- cause it's most amazin', but I've had to git here betwi.xt rains, and they've made travelin' dingswizzled slow and uncertain for quite a spell back, as you mowt 'a' noticed. You been 'spectin' me, o' course ?" 'Kiar said no ; there hadn't been any such trouble as that on his mind. Not that he knowed of, he said. " Good ! Then I hain't been disapp'intin' you !" e.\- claimed Mr. Cribber, with a cheerful smile. " 1 hain t never disappointed nobody yit, and it d jest hook me in with sorrow to begin doin' of it now. And 'mongst other things I've got to tell you is that all the signs is that the weather is goin' to settle right along, now, and we're goin' to have an open winter. Jest mark that down, 'Kiar, along with the rulin" figger for say about five fingers o' good old Jersey apple juice, till I come in ag'in, so's you won't torget it. The weather's goin' to settle, and we're goin' to have an open winter." 'Kiar said he'd stand for the open winter, and that he was glad the weather was going to settle. But he said he didn't believe the weather would gn so far as to settle for the five fingers of Jersey apple. That would be cash, 'Kiar said. The Pochuck optimist turned pessimist for a moment, and said something about the people being all wrong in charging the trusts with putting the necessaries of life beyond their reach, when anybody with half an eve ought to see that it was the spread of the no trust senti- ment that w-is doing of it; but he came back to his wonted cheerfulness pretty soon, cracked a couple o< fingers vigorously, and said : " Yes sir, an open winter. That ought to be news to make you feel good, even over here to the Corners. And Cousin Marcellus Merriweather has been to see us agin. And it was him that said to Uncle David BecKendarter, only yisterday : " ' Uncle David,' he says, • turtles can't turn a summer- set, nor run a race, nor dance a jig,' lie says, • but don't you go and think for a minute that they ain't stuffed fuU o' brains,' he says. " Uncle David he finished lightin' his pipe, and then says, ' Poof I' to Cousin Marcellus in the most discouragin' way, and Aunt Sally says, • Your granny's nightcap, Mar- cellus !' she says, and made them knittin' needles o' her'a jest about snap. " ' How did my wife's father git to be her father, then ?' says Cousin Marcellus, talkin' as though Uncle David's and Aunt Sallys 'sinuations hurt him consider'ble. ' And why ain't there a blotch on the Jayboit 'scutcheon that sandpaper couldn't never 'a' scratched off?' he says, and Uncle David and Aunt Sally said they didn't know. " ' Cause turtles is stuffed full o' brains, that's how and that's wtiy !• says Cousin Marcellus. ' And not only stuffed full o' brains, but full o' the milk o' human kind- ness !' he says. 'If it hadn't been for turtles Bailiwick Jayboit wouldn't 'a' been my wife's father, and the Jayboit scutcheon 'd be splotched worse than cow tracks on the week's wash laid on the grass to dry !' says he. " I've an idee that mebbe Uncle David was on the p'lnt o' sayin' somelhin' a little brash to Cousin Marcellus, li.e way he took his pipe out of his mouth and riz it in the air. but Cousin Marcellus kind o' gulped a little and spoke up quick and fast, like as if he was bound to git them turtles and the Jayboit 'scutcheon before ihe mtetin while ne had the floor, so as they wouldn't be lost, (or it mov\t be a good spell 'fore he got along our way ag'in. "'Bailiwick Jayboit,' says Cousin Marcellus, ' even as a young man, had a good many p'lnts. He w.is a true child o' natur'. He was all-pervadin' as to the clutchin" o' bear and setch, and he loved his neighbor as himselL Fact o' the matter is, he loved one o' his neighbors belter than himself That un was Pol'y Krimfinkle. She was the daughter of old 'Squire Krimfinkle. anri he was dead sot that she shouldn't never marry Bailiwick Jayboit. though Polly wanted to the wust way. '■'Now, then. Uncle David.' says Cousin Marcellus, .^ ' all that most folks thinks about turtles when they think anything at all about turtles, is soup. I don't blame 'em none for that, for there ain't nothin' in the eatin' line that is better than turtles, but soup is hardly the right way to consider turtles in ; anyhow, old Passadanky turtles ; so listen. " ' If there's anything that roams the woods that knows wnat's good to eat its the bears of old Passadanky. Con- sequently they dote on turtles. When one o' them bears runs across a turtle he busts its shell with a stone, and tickles his palate with the meat that he finds mside of it. One day Bailiwick Jaybolt met one o' them bears trottin' along through the woods, lookin' so pleased that Bailiwick d 'a' knowed \vhat it was up to even if he hadn't see that the bear had a big stone in its paws. That bear had ■-urt'e on its mind, and there, layin' by a log, all but skeert to death, was the turtle. The bear riz its stone to drop it on the turtle's back and scrunch it, but Bailiwick had setch a gentle heart that he couldn't stand by and see murder done, and he shot the bear dead in its tracks. " ' The poor turtle seemed so sorry to have Bailiwick go iway an leave it there, mebbe for some other bear to come along and scrunch, that he carried it home with him. He got to likin' it so that wherever he went he took it with him ; and a lucky thing for the Jaybolt family it was, too, I want to tell you, Uncle David,' says Cousin Marcellus. ' Well,' says he, ' one time they elected Bailiwick Jaybolt to be tax co.llector for that deestrict, and he collected all the taxes for the year, and started with 'em for the county seat to pay 'em in. He took his turtle along. He had some bear traps scattered here and there in the woods, one of 'em bein' a drop-door trap all shet in with logs and a rooL That door could be opened from the outside easy enough, but when it fell and closed things after a bear or somethin' had tetched the bait inside, nothin' could open it from that side. " ' Bailiwick and Daniel, as he had named the turtle, strolled over to see if that trap was all right, and while Bailiwick was inside lookin' at things he tetched the bait someway, and, bang ! down came the door, and Bailiwick mowt just as well 'a' been in jaiL There he was, eight mile from home, with no more chance o' any one comin' along that way than there was o' that door openin' and lettin' Bailiwick out. Every day for two weeks Daniel squeezed himself out between two logs and went down to the creek, which was only a couple o' rod away, and ketched trout and brung 'em to Bailiwick and kep' him from starvin'. Then air of a sudden Daniel couldn't find no more trout. He fished and fished, but not a trout or anything else could he git his clutch on to. Bailiwick could see starvation glarin' at him, and Daniel jest about went into fits over it Then one day Bailiwick made up his mind hed have to eat Daniel, to sort o' piece things out some, on the chance o' somebody corain' along that way and lettin' him loose Tore he passed away. Daniel seemed willLn', and BaOi- wick turned the turtle over and was on the p mt o' stickin' his knife into him, when an idee hit him. Instead o' stab- brn' Daniel to make victuals out of him. Bailiwick dug some fetters on to the turtle's under shefl. " ' " There !" says he " I'll turn Daniel out, and shet np r&e hole so he can't git back- in ag'in. Tften he'll wander, mebbe, and be lound, and spread the news, so as mebbe they'll find my bones, anyhow," says Bailiwick. " ' But Bailiwick didn't have to turn Daniel loose nor shet him out. As soon as Bailiwick got through carvin' on to the shell, Daniel didn't lose a bit o' time gettm' out o' that pen and makin' for the creek, tumblin' into it and disappearin' quicker than scat. Consam him 1" says Bailiwick. "Lot o' chance there is now of any one findin' him 1" says he. " I wish I had eat him, now ! " says he. " ' Well, w'hat had folks been thinkin' all this time, 'count o' Bailiwick disappearia' that way ? Thoi^ht he had cut sticks with the ta-\es, o' course ; and, though it was hard to believe, a blotch come on that 'scutcheon and begun to loom up bigger and bigger. Polly KnmfinJcle jest about cried her eyes out, and her old pap sot his foot right down that she was goin' to marry Japhet Saltcider, which was his choice for her, anyhow, and the day was sot. That very day Polly was out 'mongst the rose bushes havin' her last cry, when out o' the water come somethin', and Polly wiped her eyes and see it was a turtle. The turtle come on towards her as fast as it could, and then Polly see that it wa'n't only a turtle, but it was Bailiwick Jaybolt's Daniel 1 Before Polly could get wind enough to peep, the turtle stopped in front of her, give a fimny sort . of a hitch to itself,and flopped over on to its back Atul there, on Daniel's bottom shell, Polly read ihese here words : " ' " Shet in drop-door bear pen. Starvin'. I>. Jay- boll." •• ' Polly gave one yell and fainted dead away. Her folks heard the yell, and when the old 'squire come runnin' to see what was the matter, and he see the carvin' on that turtle, awav he sent two men on hossback to rescue Baili- wick, and they done iL And he come back and married Polly, and got to be my wife's fatlier, to say nothin' o' wipin' the blotch off o' that 'scutcheon, which he couldn't 'a' done neither of 'em, by hokey ! if turtles wa'n't stuffed full o' brains and the milk o' human kindness, could he?' says Cousin MarceUus, and Aunt Sally she heaved a kind of a pittyin' sigh, and Uncle David went out to feed the pigs. Speakin' o' them five fingers o' Jersey apple, 'Kiar, couldn't you sort o' consider 'em as in the light o' the milk o' human kindness, and " 'Kiar shook his head with so much positiveness thai the Pochuck chronicler got up and went out, remarking bit- terly that it was a sad tiling when men couldn't rise even to the height of the humble turtle. Intensely Shocked. Margie (wtho has left Bostott to spend her vacation in the country, hearing her graiulfather ask the hired rastn if he found any breaches tn the pasture-fence) — " I do wish grandpa'd be more refined m the presence oi Ladaesaixi say pantaloeDS." The gus/img boari&r — " This turkey is delightluUy tender." Mrs.de Hasher — "Yes; I knew it would be. It was killed by being run over by a troITey-car." ^^^ THE GRANniATICAL WAITER. " Waiter. I find here in my soup a needle — a needle, sir •• That must be a misprint — that sliould be a noodle." The Cult of Nebuchadnezzar. The la tst health-£ad is a .diet of gr^ss.—Ejchan^e. A WtSE man said, '■ All flesh is grass." *• And now at length it comes to pass That there's no illness we endure Which eating grass will fail lo cure. Tf shajrp gastritis holds you down. On ordinary diet frown ; But gather grass, gravied « ith dew, And eat it and your health renew. Even if you're thrown in tliat abysm Of dire, cantankerous rheumatism. Remember it cannot harass If you confine your nueals to grass. Nebuchadnezzar, king of old, We used to think was badly ''sold"; But now it's very plainly seen His was the coming true cuisine. From pasturage of the field and lawn His health and strength were daily drawn ; And so for years he shunned life's knocks By eating like the faithful ox. Who would not forfeit bread and cheese, .And quail on toast, with meat anil grease. Now those who know with force maintain That grass surpasses flour or grain ? Vile drugs have thus become a bure. And doctors need not practice mtire. Fruits, too. will go. and garden ••sass." Since all mankind must "go t" grass" T JOEL BBNTOH. What He Thought. Boss — " What on earth made you give out that interview ? It reads as il you were drunk at the time." Caiuiiiiate — "That's just the trouble — I tti—* :i — f: o c ■-^ O. — > — . yi rr la a 'JQ 5" rr n m o n :j^ c* fj p — ^ o a 7"' -T 3 ^.' —. 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CL cr «^ o ft o p o re re 3 3 3 ui' o o n> ■ : o : "1 D ^r O ^ O = 3 a ? ^^lAP A Hard-luck Passenger By ROBERT BURTON SHE lazy '■ accommodation " train on which 1 was wearily wending my way across the low lands of the middle west had come to a standstill in a corn-field, and most of the male pas- sengers had gone out to offer advice in regard to the best way of getting a cow up from between the ties, through which she had fallen while trying to cross a little culvert di- rectly in fiont of the engine. It was hot and I preferred to remain in the car. So did a phenomenally lank man with a co!T^ple.\ion giving proof of a prolonged tussle with " fever-an'- ager." The outline of his pea-green face showed plainly through his thin red beard, and when he suddenly stretched his long, lank arms high above his head and yawned his jaws cracked and a plate of upper false teeth fell with a click to his lower jaw. Then he thrust one hand almost to his elbow down into one of his pockets, drew forth a home-made twist of tobacco, bit off a " chaw " with considerable writhing and twisting effort, and gener- ously extended the twist across the aisle to me, saying as he did so, " Have a chaw ?" '• No ; thank you." " Don't chaw ?" '• No ; I do not." "Sensible, b'gosh ! " Having thus broken the ice, if such a figure of speech is appropriate in dog-day weather, the man crept over into the vacant seat in front of me with as little effort as possible and proceeded to converse with a good deal of fluency in a voice marked by the nasal note of the rural Missourian. " Goin" down the road a little ways if we ever git there. Train's slower nor merlasses in Jinuary. Still, I ain't in no hurry. Never was. It's ag'in' my principles to hurry much. I'm leavin' Missoury fer good, I hope.' His manner indicated that he expected me to inquire into the causes of his exodus, and I said, " Doesn't agree with you there, eh ? " " Wa-al, I dunno as it's that so much as other things. I've shuk as hard with fever-an'-ager in Ohier as I have in Missoury. But I've had a lot o' hard luck there off an' on — mostly on. Two years ago the drought burned up my crap, an' last year the floods washed it out root an' branch. Come up in the night an' when it went down I'd nothin' left on this green airth but the shirt I'd swum out in. Hard luck ! " " I should think so." " But I was used to it. I located in tue line of a cyclone out in Kansas four year ago, an' one day the cyclone got a move on itself, an' when it went on after friskin' by my house thar wa'n't no house left. Blowed my three best dawgs to kingdom come, to say nothin' o' my wife an' ev'ry derned other thing I owned on airth. Hard luck !" • " It surely was." '• Wa-al, I ain't easily downed, so I scratched around an' got me another wife an' two of as purty Irish-setter dawgs as you ever laid eyes on an' started out once more — this time runnin' a saw-mill in a lumber camp, an' one day I had to drive thutty miles to the nearest town fer supplies, an' when I got back I'll be danged if the old saw-mill hadn't burnt clean to the ground, an' the man that had been doin' the sawin' had run off with my wife an' both o' them ilawgs. Hard luck !" I agreed with him for the third time, and he immedi- ately added, " I got on their trail with a Mexican mustang pony under me an' I run 'em down the first day an' got the dawgs back. Her an' him had had a fallin' out already, an' he looked as if he'd fallen in front o' his bu7?-saw, an' ne wanted me to take her back, but I kicked whtii it come to that. I give her a dollar as sort o' alhmony, an' the last I see of 'em she was chasin' him with a hoss-whip in her liand. Hard luck — fer him ! She'd the git-upan'-git-thar speerit of a hyena, an' she wa'n't afeerd o' anything that walked on two legs nor yit on four. She was too rapid for an easy-goer like me. Well, then I thought I'd open up a s'loon in a little new town where thar was likely to be considdable thirstiness, but the wimmen o' the town objected purty to'cibly. Fact is, they had caught the Carry Nation disease, an' they come on an' smashed ev'ry derned thing to flinders ; and as if that wa'n't enough, they drug me out an' held me under a pump an' pumped on me until I was most drowned, sayin' they'd let me see how good cold water reely was. Then they chased me out o' town, an' said that was only a patchin' to what I'd git if I ever come back. Hard luck !" I reserved my opinion regarding the merits of the case, and he waxed still more loquacious. " Them fer-western wimmen has got plenty o' speei it, I tell ye. Well, then I went into the chicken bizness, an' I had five hundred plump young br'ilers just ready to slaughter an' market, when hanged if the chicken cholery didn't break out among 'em an' three hundred ot 'em turned up thar toes in twenty-four hours, an' the rest was sayin' their far' well prayers! Some of 'em died so blamed sudden it didn't seem to me they could be hurt much, an', just between me an' you, I dressed an' sold a lot of 'em, an' a sneak of a chap I had workin' for me let his tongue run about it, an' if I hadn't got ten miles the start o' the sheriff an' the mob with him I reckon I'd not be here now to tell the tale. They went back an' burned ev'ry buiklin' '^'^7 I had to the ground, an' I had to change my name an' lay- low for three months. Hard luck !" Again I bridled my tongue and refrained from the rudeness of expressing my candid opinion in regard to the matter, and he said, " Wa-all, next thing I did was to come east far as loway an' git me a tin-peddlin' outfit. I had a cousin that done right well at that. He'd trade his tinware fer old rags an' butter an' eggs among the farmers' wives, an' it was healthy bizness just ridin' round all day enjoyin' the so- ciety of the ladies ev'ry time you stopped. Well, I got an old plug of a hoss for fifteen dollars an' started out with fifty dollars wuth o' goods in my cart, an' something un- expected happened the very fust place I stopped. I'd got down from the wagon an' me an' a lady a few paoundsshy o' three hundred in weight was dickerin' over her ten paounds o' rags that she wanted about three dollars wuth o' tinware fer, an' rags sellin' fer half a cent a paound, an" while I was descantin' on the bargain she'd git if she tuk a nutmeg-grater fer the rags, I'll be eternally dingsquizzled if one o' these gol-durned awttymobiles didn't hove to from around a corner. It come a-tootin' an' a-plungin' an' a-smellin' until I'm darned if I blamed my old plug much fer jist about goin' wild. Before I could grab the reins he was off down the road like a streak o' greased lightnin'. Run ! By gum ! I never saw no three-year-old beat him at no county fair I ever went to ! I lit out after him, but I might as well tried to 'a' chased one o' these thunderbolt express trains that they say runs four miles a minnit ! The last I see o' that old plug he was roundin' a curve in the road an' the air was full o' tinware. One shinin' dish-pan went a good forty feet into the air an' come down on a spiked post of a barbed-wire fence that jammed a hole right through it. An', say, stranger, I ain't lyin' when I tell you that that old nag was found dead six miles from that spot with a v tsh-boiler clapped down over his head, an' nary another bit o' tmware in sight. Hard luck !" " Why didn't you sue the owner of the automobile ?" " He never give me no chance. He lit out fast as my old plug did, an' I never saw him no more. Well, then I got up an Uncle Tom's Cabin theatrical show with another feller — me to furnish the money an' him the comp'ny an' the expeerience. He was to give the show in a tent, an' we got a couple o' old worn-out bloodhounds an' a little jackass for the street peerade an' for little Evy to ride on in the parade, an', between you an' me, little Evy wa'n't a day unc'er forty-five. Fact is, she was about fifteen year older than her ma, or at least the lady who palmed her- self off as her ma in the play. You see, she was a kind of a dwarf, little Evy was. My pardner he v^fas Uncle Tom, and I was that Legree cuss, and by havin' one person take diffent parts we was able to give the play with seven peo- ple, includin' the jackass. Well, we'd been on the road a week, an' had made clear about a dollar an' sixty cents, when we struck a place where there was a county fair goin' on, an' our old tent was packed cram full. The awjence wa'n't fust class, ler they throwed peanuts at the actors right in their most techin' parts, an' they groaned an' giggl-d by turns all through little Evy's deathbed scene until she got so mad she plum forgot herself an' riz up after the dyin' scene an' cussed 'em until I thought the tent would come down with them laughin' an' her cussin' like she did. We tuk' in sixty-nine dollars that night. I went to bed plum fagged out, for I'd been Legree, an' that Harris nigger an' two or three others in the play, an' when I wa'n't any o' them I was monkeyin' with the scenery, or on the jump at soniethin' else, so when I went to bed about one in the niornin' I was too blamed tired to care what happened. You know, stranger, I b'leeve I was drugged, fer I never opened my peepers until noon the next (lay, an' then I found that Uncle Tom, my pardner, had eloped with little Evy, an' his wile, who was Miss Ophelia, had eloped with St. Clair, an' the other man in the play had skedaddled, an' me an' the jackass was all thar was left to continue the show. Hard luck, stranger !" The train had now drawn near a shabby little station and the hard-luck man picked up a limp oilcloth satchel and said, " I git off here. I've come to see a man that wants me to go in with him and open up a shootin' gallery. I reckon if I do some streak o' bad luck will overtake us first thing. I don't think I was born in the right time o' the 'moon, an' I know I wa'n't born under no lucky star. So long, stranger. I'm glad to have had your comp'ny these last few miles. Travelin' ain't so tiresome when you kin find some one to talk to you. So long." The train was delayed some time at the station, and f had opened my window for a little fresh air, when mv friend of the unlucky star came along, and stopping' below my window, said, " What in time you reckon has happened now ? They tell me here that the man I've rid a hundred miles to see, an' that I've already sent fifty dollars to as first payment on the shootin' gallery, was jerked up las' night fer havin' three livin' wives an' two years of unfinished term in the jail he broke out of last spring, and " • The train started forward suddenly and he called out- over his shoulder, " Hard luck !" I Love Them Both. li/HEN Mabel sings, so soft and clear, '' Bright visions of heavenly choirs appear^ And echoes come from fairy dells Like tinkling notes in silvern bells. Ah, me ! Around my heart there clings Sweet thoughts of love when Mabel sings. When Sylvia glides in lithesome dance My soul 's aglow, as in a trance. Like rippling waters on a lake, Fantastic forms her footsteps take ; With rhythmic tread, now fast, now slow. My heart beats time with heel and toe. Confess ? I love these sweethearts dear — Fair Mabel, with her voice so clear, And winsome Sylvia, as she trips With grace from feet to finger-tips. I love them both, none can deny. ^ am their father — that is why. FREDERICK BOYD STEVENSON. Merritt — " Which would do you the more good, a sled or a pair of skates ?" Johnnie — -"Search me; I ain't no weather o'qphet " a't Spring Lamb with Caper Sauce By Florence Edith Austin iHIS IS the true storj-, not of Mary's, but of Martha's, little lamb. Its pedigree was Herdwick, so its fleece was white only as city snow long- fallen. But it is not of beauty, but ol intellect I am called to write. This unsung Iamb was born and bred in Illinois, and in County Cook — a name suggestive of its ultimate fate. From the first hour of its life it seemed born to troul)Ie, for in that hour its moth- er firmly anil positively disowned it. This is where Martha comes on the stage, for it was Martha who looli'es9es grave doubts- as to the validity of the marriage, for she avers that her " I will " was not a response to> the rn>ptial vow, but was solemnly addressed to the lamb, bering a promise chat it siiouW have its dinner. OETH hael never before seen a hump-backed' man. ■^ '• Mamma," she whispered softly, "did he know he was going to have a bicycle before he was bom .'" ^^ An Old Salt's Observations. THEM lawyers is clever chaps. * I dropped in the other day when one was arguin' of a divorce- case. The lawyer for the other side had jest been sassin' him. He spoke up real indignant like an' said, a p'int in' to the chap that had been a-callin' of him names, '•You call me a wrecker of homes !" he said. " Nothin' could- n't be no further from the truth. I'm jest a letter-shifter." " A let- ter-shifter I" exclaimed the other lawyer. " What do you mean by that, sir ?" " Why, all I do," re- marks the first lawyer, "is to change the position of the letter ' i ' in that well-known word ' unit- ed.' I shift it till it sets abaft the ' t,' an' then the couple that has gone to court is jest ' untied.' " Praisin' a man for knowin' a little bit about a lot o' things is like praisin' one for havin' loved a lot of women some. Th' man you re'lly want to give a medal to is th' chap tiiat knows all there is to know about one thing, an' th' feller that has loved one woman well enough to furnish up a little flat for her, with a mechanical piano an' other happinesses in it ready to her hand an' heart. EDWAUD MARSHALL. No Chance To Spoon, Bride — " What is the brake- man lighting the lamps for ?" Bridegroom — " We are coming to a tunnel, my dear." Bride — " But what's the use of tunnels if they light the lamps ?" WANTS TO KEEP IN THE LE.A.D. " He's been running after that girl for six months." " Why don't he stop ?" " Well, he 'd rather be running after her than have her running after him.' Maude — " I Anrie — " article." Sarcasm. heard Mrs. Hardup had a dream of a hat ?" I suppose she couldn't afford the real Correct. Gobang — " I wonder who this is that advertises for the- return of a watch ' and no questions asked ' ?" Ukerdek — "Some man. No woman would do it." Spot-matching Monkey. I I PON the stoop, throughout the autumn day, '-^ I fit and listen to the sobbing sea. And poker with a vim that's big I play, And swiit the chips come rolling in to me. What care I if sarcastic people sigh Of us, who're blithe as sun-kissed Hottentots, The while we make the hearts and aces fly, •• They're but four grinning monkeys matching spots"? We may be monkeys matching spots, ah me ! Because we're having cori Cash ! ! (( DRIGHT as a dollar." said his dad ^■^ When Louis went to Yale. The boy, you know, soon learned to row. He made the records sail. They never call young Louis bright As a dollar any more ; He won a cup, his stock went up — He's now a Louis d'oar ! A Misnomer. Cobwigger — '• Look here ! Did you break that rubber- plant ?" Freddie — •' That ain't no rubber-plant. I pulled at it till all the leaves came out, and it didn't stretch a bit." A Comparison. piERPOXT MORGAN, in his handling of the arch- bishop of Canterbury, has shown himself to be so effi- cient a manager that experts compare him with Billy Mad- den in the palmy days when that worthy had in hand and at heart the interests of John L. Sullivan. The Point of View. Miss Weary — " Father always turns the gas oft" at ten o'clock." Slaylate — "That's first rate. I was just going to ask vou to do it." I IGHTNING does not strike twice in the same place because the place is not there the second time. THE INTELLIGENT BUNNIES. . /t M(ii^ 3. 'S-juHiE GOODMA.N- ■ If I only knew you would quit nibbling my cabbages I wouM try and stop hunters from shooting you. ^AOSf (( B Rapid Transit. LL BALES bet Tom Smith a dollar that he could pick up a hornet and carry it across the street," savs the first loafer in front of Seth Green's grocery-store. '• Which won ?" " Wa-al, Bill got across with the hornet, but Tom argies that the hornet lifted him about twenty foot o' the wav." The Hair of the Dog. (( MEED not tell me N' that like does not cure like," asserted the man with the apologetic mustache. " \Vho tried to tell you so ?" asked the man with the aggressive chin. " No one ; but tlie point I wanted to make was this : My wife woie one of these drop-stitch waists until she got rheu- matism, and then the nurse spread mustard on the waist and made a porous-plaster of it and cured the rheumatism." Fashion Note. THE science of style being to place decora- tion where it will be seen by the greatest number of people and therefore be most effective, Rus- sian blouses will this vear be richly ornamenl- ed on the back, in a run- ning: stitch. CHERLOCK HOLMES was boasting of his ability. "But," acked the boarders, " can you find the strawberry- in a short- cake ?" Seeing his failure, the great detective begged them not to tell Dovle. TOO MLXH FOR BOBBV. Mother — "Yes, Bobby ; in Greenland the nights are six months long." Bobby — "I am mighty glad I don't live there. You know you some, times send me to bed without my supper." He Was Convinced. Smithby — " I know I need glasses." Oculist — " How do you know ? ' Smithby — " Because last night I was reading a news- paper and I couldn't tell whether or not a certain word was ' building' or 'blinding.'" Oculist—" Which did it turn out to be ?" Smithby — " It rurned out to be • bulldog.' " Why He Com- plained. njlY brother owned a ' ' milk-route. He says to me one day, " There's one man that I ain't goin' to serve no more be- cause he's always kickin' on t h e quality of the milk. He says it ain't what it's cracked up to be." "Who is it?" I asked. " They call him Appetite Joe," he an- swered. "You've read about him. He's the chap who's been arrested such a lot of times for sellin' of gold-bricks to farmers when they come- to town." Occupation. « IV|ISS CALLINGALL complains that she has too much leisure." "Well, why doesn't she take up something?" " She does — she takes up other people's time." Proof Positive. Hawkins — •• That pickpocket they caught is really a rery intelli- gent fellow." Sampson — " No doubt of it. He proTed that by his ability to locate a lady's pocket. Slander travels far- ■ ther than do compli- ments. The Confession. IMO attempt to cover up, ' ^ Keeping nothing hid, Hear tlie blatant little fool YeUing '^ Katy did !" Ah, were human wisdom yours, Katy. standing pat, You would look us over and Shout, "It was the cat !" MC LANDDURCH WILSON. ' How did Influence of Early Surroundings. li/E are listening to the new prima donna. " Her voice has a great range." we say. she obtain it ?" " It is rumored," e.xplains our friend, " that she used to be a cook." A Fact. COOLS' day really begins upon the first of April and ■ ends upon the thirty-first of March. ' S '2 s 1 . J) > 2 -1 o>m 01 > ^■^^ r -J m ^ S a m z > !K! 5 X- 5 5 ?^ ^- — « " r ? 3 c :t ft _■ ir o > o ET M p =- S: 2 ™ cr. ? i. o CO 1^ rr ^ o 3* O c m 3* ?^i - ■ 2 — -o :t " r^ r' n — o _ (/) 3 _ re W ^ '- CfC 5 ^ E H T r - 2 o •a •3 5 ™ == ■^ 3 o "^ ' £ re .^ ^ re ^ re re 3. ?- — t^ 5- o :i; ::.: 3 K !r- p = ' J •- o X, — are o re -~ ■<: ^ - w o ° -- p — : re 2 = H. ^ 2. 3 3 3- P ;:::• P H ^ X O) re — = H 9 S- o C/3 C o o m en {V> -I ^ < r* re :i — re „ re ^. n, re r- ::;■ . — !/! Cb &i rr IT »< r-^ ;:;. U) ' O) -1 n p :;• ^ -1 y (T) ^ 13 m f*.. — :r 2J 3 B: &3 o < o. 2. O At the Minstrels. said Mr. Curntbork, as the two I have «|\/|R CR0.4KDALE, * * eminent end men settled into their chairs a puzzhng interrogatory to propound." " Indeed ?' asl as soon as Abner went out in his canoe, and fix himself to- be chugged at. And, do what he mowt, Abner couldn't slap the tines o' the spear in that soft spot behind the eel's ears. Do what he mowt, he couldn't hit it. " After workin' day and night fer more than a month, he found it was wearin' on to him, but the eel was as impu- dent and chipper as ever ; so one afternoon, after peggin' away at the eel all day and only makin' fun fer the aggra- vatin' critter, and not gittin' any nigher to the marrow of its backbone than he had before, he got up and says, " ' There ain't no use !' says he. ' That eel wa'n'ti never made to be killed by the hand o' livin' man !' says he. " Then he turned his boat and started to paddle in and go home, when he see somethin' movin' in the pond to'rds him. It turned out to be a bear, and it was comin' straight fer the boat. Uncle David's brother Abner cheered up to wunst. " ' The chances is,' says he, ' that the eel will tackle that bear. If it does there '11 be a fight, and while the rumpus is goin' on I'll git my chance and sock this spear betwixt the eel's backbone and its ears at last !' says he. "So he hauled to one side to give the bear and the eeli a fair show when they come together. The bear swum along, puffin" and snortin'. Abner waited fer the eel to tackle the bear, but it didn't. The bear went on by, and, Abner was rip-tearin' mad. •' ' Dodwollop my skin !' says he ; • I'm goin' to harpoon- somethin', anyhow !' says he, and paddlin' 'longside the- bear he slung the spear into it as hard as he could sling. " The spear sunk clear to the handle in the bear's back. It was fastened to the bow o' the boat by a rope eight foot long. When the harpoon socked into the bear bruin put on more steam and went to towin' Abner along at a two- forty gait ! This was better than a Fourth-o'-July picnic to the old man fer a while, but by and by he see that the bear was headin' for a dead pine-tree that stood in the pond one hundred foot from shore. When the bear got to the tree he clutched it and begun to climb. As he dim, the harpoon stickin' in his back, the rope begun to lift the bow o' the boat, and the first thing Abner knowed it was pooty nigh perpendic'lar in the air, and he was tumblin' backwards into the water, kerplunk ! He swum fer shore, and when he got there he turned and looked back. The bear was up in the tree, tuggin' to git the har- poon out o' hisself Abner run to his cabin anil got his- gun. When he got back there was the bear, still in the tree, but he had got the harpoon out of his back and was holdin' it in his paws, as if he was ready to chuck it at somethin'. He was starin' down into the water, and -zi. Uncle David's brother Abner used to say that he never see setch a skeert look on a livin' creatur's face as was sot on the face o' that bear. Then all of a suddent the bear sent the harpoon a whizzin' down into the water. " ' Throwin'my harpoon away, be you ?' hollered Abner, madder than snakes, and he sent a bullet through the bear's conk. Down bruin tumbled, and fell dead in the boat, which had dropped back into the water at the foot o' the tree. Abner swum out and got into the boat. He grabbed the rope to haul the harpoon from where the bear had throwed it in the pond, but the harpoon wouldn't haul. He tugged and tugged, and by and by the harpoon begun 10 come. And when it did show itself Abner most dropped dead 'longside the bear. The big and unyieldin' eel was fast to it, deader than the old pine-tree ! The harpoon was socked deep betwixt its backbone and its ears ! "Then Uncle David's brother Abner knowed what had put that awful skeery look on the bear's face. The eel had followed the bear, and was on the p'liit o' clinibin' the tree and gittin' it, when the bear got the harpoon loose and harpooned the eel in the only place where a deadly chug could land ! Of course if Abner had knowed all that he'd 'a' cut his hand off before he'd 'a' shot that bear, so I've heerd him say more than a hundred times. But unfortunately he.didn't know it. " Penstock Swaly ! " exclaimed Solomon Cribber at this stage of his narrative. "So you think Penstock Swaly killed the big eel o' Skeejack pond, do you, 'Kiar ? Well, now you see he didn't. The bear my Uncle David Beckendarter's brother Abner harpooned killed that eel ! That's the true undoin' o' the big eel o' Skeejack pond, and it's time folks knowed it !" 'Squire Birkett, from over Hogback, stared at 'Kiar Biff, and 'Kiar Biff stared at 'Squire Birkett, both still with their mouths wide open, but neither one of them uttering a word ; which seemed to please Solomon Cribber, for he went awav smiling-. Original. ««/~"LEOPATRA had just dissolved the pearl. " Lovely !" cried the girls. " What an original way of showing off an engagement-ring !" The fact that it could only be done once, however, militated against its popularity. Touching Farewell. Mack — " Higbee borrowed one hundred dollars of me l>efore he left." IVyld — " Rather a touching farewell, eh ?" The Literary Life. (( I UNDERSTAND that Penthrall is devoting himself exclusively to fiction nowadays." '■ Fiction ? Well, I should say so ! He's writing noth- ing but advertisements." Highly Satisfactory. Askum — " Is your patient with the grip progressing as rapidly as you expected ?" Dr. Fa/fee (jubilantly) — "Yes, thank you. He has already developed pneumonia." DIS.^PPOINTMENT. The country boy — " How'd yer like it out here?" The city kid — •• Aw, dere ain't no trolleys ter dodge, an' no keep-off-de-grass signs, nor cops ter chase yer. nor nutliin'." ITS COME TO PASS. The walking delegate — "The sign on the dure says y'u're a )iainter." The artist — " Well?" The WALKING DELEGATE — "Well, Oi want to See yure union car-rd." Significant Signal. 14 I \VAS much amused," said Cawker to Cumso, " at what a returned Klondiker told me of the customs of the gold mines." " Interesting and funny, were they ?" " He said that in his shanty six men slept to- gether. They all lay in a row, like spoons in a case, facing one way, to keep warm. When one of them became tired of lying on one side he would call out, ' Lawyer !' and they would all turn at once." " Why did they use the word ' lawyer ' ?" " That meant, ' Lie on the other side." " At the Pinnacle. k' rvON'T vou think the virtuoso, Rosinini, has made great strides in his profession, or in his art, whichever you choose to call it ?" Mrs. Skid- more asked her husband. " I suppose he has," replied Mr. Skidmore. " I am told that he began as a mere fiddler." A Sincere Opinion. (( lifRIGHT sent me a cheque this morning." " "Well, what of it ?" " I consider it the best thing he ever wrote." George Washington. His truthful soul is marching on. U L' R R A H for George— great ' ' George, our king ! We chant his praises high. He fought the fight of good aright And never told a lie. 'Tis said sometimes he blurted out A sulphurous oath or two, And often bold, great stories told, But not a thing untrue. Conveniences of modern days Were all to him unknown ; He would not try to tell a lie, Nor could he telephone. No murderous trolleys troubled him, No Waldorf salad closed ; No automobile caused him woe, No telegraph annoyed. Perhaps if these inventions great Had been to him supplied 'Twould had direct the same effect- Like us he would have lied. Some modern folks don't hesitate To lie as well as pray ; And often then they lie again — George was not built that way. 'Tis best that we achieve for truth Great notoriety Than take first prize for all the lies Told in society. Great soldier, patriot, lieless man ! We laud and honor thee. Thy victories won were all outdone By thy veracity. JOHN H. KINGSBURY. HOW HE WORKED IT. Edith — " What is your system for playing the races?" Jerrold — " Oh, I tell all my friends what horse to bet on ; then, if they seem to think my advice is worth taking, I bet on some other horse." -^f ^ A PARTICULAR ABOUT COLOR. Mike — "Some Green Point oysters would go good about now, Casey." Casey — " Wat's de matter wid Blue Points?" Mike — "No, sir. This is Saint Patrick's day. Make them green, or I don't eat." The Earnest Reformer. (< VES, sir," said the earnest reformer, leaning over and shaking his long forefinger in the face of the una"p- preciative listener ; " I want to say to you that the great- est mistake in modern business life is the haste with which men eat their lunch. Now, I'll venture to say to you that you are a victim " " Excuse me," nUerrupted the other man, '• but I " " Now, just you wait a minute. What I was going to say wis for your own good. I can tell just by looking at you that you are one of these men who think they must hustle all the time, and" " But I wanted to say " " One minute more, if you please. And as a result you jump from your desk to the table and from the table back to your desk, and what is the effect? Doesn't it show as plam as day ? Now, I want to ask you, as a friend ot yours — of course, I " terrible to see the way our modern business men are rush- ing themselves into the grave. Now, promise me that you will adopt this plan of one hour for lunch." "No, sir; I will not promise you that." " You vion't ?" The earnest reformer sputtered and started as if he had been stung. " No, sir ; I won't. Allow me, sir, to give you one of my cards. I never eat any lunch, as you may see from it. ' And the earnest reformer spent the next half-hour studying an oblong piece of cardboard, which informed him that "James H. Nibbiker" was "president of the two-meals-a-day society. " The Unstumpable Poet. IVjO airy fancy now will come To start my little tumty-tum. " You are mistaken, sir. I " — — ,.ivT I _ 1 • , 1 II I So where was Moses when the light "No, I am not mistaken. I know I ° , , , , , , , rr , " ^"' out ? And if I guess aright, dont know you from Adams off ox, but I am a friend of yours, the same as I am The people aU will loudly laugh a friend of all humanity, and what I Until they simply split in half. want to ask you is that hereafter you And quick I'll pocket, don't you know, will have some consideration for yourself The gilded shekels, joy aglow, and for your future, and allow yourself And dance more wildly than they'll bark fellow to possess ? a full hour for lunch. Why, man, it is Who read the answer— In the dark. Merritt — "A dictionary.' Source of His Wealth. [UEBUCH ADNEZZAR thoughtfully re- garded his meal of chaff. "When I get out of this, ' he re- marked, " I won't do a thing but put this stuff on the market as ' royal break- fast food.' " Humping himself, he continued his meal, while a gleam of speculation shone in his eye. Better than Riches. De Garry — " In making love to a Boston girl, what is the best thing for a ■^^^ The Wax and Wane of Alderman Swerdloff By Harriettc Wilbur ^HE FIRST gong struck and the pupils began to file in. Lil laid back the astonished onlookers saw another .one, similarly fastened, of a nondescript green. Mrs. Swerdloff unfastened this, and, lo and behold ! a subdued pepper-and-salt garment was laid bare. This, however, was sewed on. Mrs. SwerdlofT began rippmg stitches, and with sonorous " cracks " they gave way to a glint of blue serge beneath. But a howl from the submerged Jakey broke in upon the ripping. " Ach, ach!" he wailed, "now I no haf peeg pelly more, and 1 no pe fat man." " Hush, Jakey," whispered his mother soothingly, and she smiled reassuringly as she looked up into tiie resentful black eyes peeping over the blue barracks. " \'cn de teachers pe gone I sew de wests all on' tul de varm somer he comes." By this time the two startled observers realized the secret of the alderman's make-up They looked at each other and were seized with a sudden wild longing to escape. " Please, Mrs. Swerdloff," interposed the prmcipal "you needn't rip off any more. We — we understand." "Yah, yah," nodded Mrs. Swerdloff; " ve sew heem on for cold vinter ; dot geefs heem de peeg pelly all times vinters. " Once outside, the two scurried off. " Well, il 1 ever " began the principal, but the laugh would out, and she choked and gasped instead ef completing any remark she had to offer. But the versatile Miss Nichols was not so handicapped. " I — I wish we'd let her go on ripping. I'm curious to know just how many he had on," she gasped between giggles. But Jakey was never the same after. No more gentle prodtlings of interested forefingers; no more pitying glances from motherly eyes ; no more seats of honor during calis- thenic periods — he shared with the rest and shared alike. Foi; upon his return to a normal condition of health Jakey Swerdloff. alias the Alderman, was no longer an autocrat in Webster school. I GETTING SQUARE. IzzY, JR. — "Fader, dot Irisher boy made for me a smash in der face. O-o-o — o-o-h !" Izzy, SR. — "Doii'tcher care, mein sohn. 'Vhen his fader comes in Monday mit his silfer vatch ti^ock I gif him dis veek feefty cents less." How To Write a Novel. The old and the new method. D AKE a pound of gossip And an ounce of sense. Served with sauce salacious It shall seem immense. Epigrams a thousand. Culled from near and far ; Call it conversation — And then there you are ! Make a social setting — Quite unreal, of course ; Mingle much discussion On marriage and divorce. Risk the lady's virtue Far as is discreet ; Then yoiu" "problem novel" 's Very nigh complete. These are newer methods That have come to pasf Since the old magicians Took a lad and lass. \Yrought as nature found them, Told their joys and tears, That the world remembers Spite of all the years. .\h. the old magicians Wrought in simpler way. Yet their deathless manner Wakes our tears to-da\'. Tust some plain, sweet story Gushing from the heart, Yet the tale like marble Lives enduring art. Why these different methods ? — Why not try the old. If immortal stories In that way were told ? Here's the answer surely None may disavow — There are lots of craftsmen, No magicians, now ! JOSEPH DANA MILLER. A Barnyard Conversation. IT IS the opinion of eminent sociologists,' ■Jt^-^^-*^ ' A FRIEND IX NEED. Jack — " Your friend, Miss Anteek. lost her • ruddy complexion ' on her first visit to the seashore, didn't she ?" May — " Yes ; but I'll warrant she got it back again on her first visit to the drug-store." said the philosophic gobbler, " that the tougher element of the country inevitably drifts toward the larger cities." " Yes," answered the up-to-date turkey-hen. "lover- heard one of the city boarders say this summer that it was strange the leathery, stringy turkeys always were sent to the cold-storage houses to be held for the Thanksgiving rush." Professional Amenities. owj/A (the critic) — " You're a regular has been." ViHanelle (the poet) — " You're a regular never was." Universal. Cora — " Do you know the one thing tliat nearly ever)- girl gives up during Lent ?" Merritt — " The diary she started to keep at the begin- ning of the year. " What Did She Mean? ^^ A KISS is an experiment," '• Said Mary with much merriment. The man stood by. Afraid to try — When that was just what Mary meant. Various Kinds of Shaving. " li/E HAD quite a lively debate at the school-house Saturday evening," remarked one populist. "We aim to discuss only questions of interest to the party ; but this was about the liveliest time we've had yet." " What was the question debated ?" inquired another populist. " Last Saturday night the topic for consideration was, ■ Resolved, that two barber-shops are worse than one na- tional bank.' " COME people in this country appear to be laboring under the delusion that Pegasus is a jackass. ^ 2-^7 5W o V; 3 1 3 1 ^. n^ •s.' C/l' 1 n 1 X X 1 •o T3 m 1 3 < 1 1 n n rt u> in w' U) -■ '^. < a. o a* 3 c ■< > 3 ^' C- ^' •-u 3 -D O — . c B3 o 3 ifi' 3 C^ 2 ■"^ D. tfl' (-*■ O D- o X P 3 n -n O 3 O o P 3 s P . O" o 5 3" c- 3- o- o 3 P u w cr o (V H o 3- T3 c o w 2. 3" a. 3^ 3 T3 OQ O n C/l •-0 O) ?r -! s;' _^ o t: N 5' ^ o 3 a. »=; sr ft rE 6 P -I o 1 fi ^ c < n ^H W Zl *- n )^ 2- '^ ° ^ (Tl ?^ p -1 rn 3 r* C "E. 5' »-» ft a n ^ C ?r 3 §> 3 r» O- C o 3 3 ' a f . - p ■ " 3 3 p =3 3 i" ? 3 S " o c a- o p ft =• c -^ ^ W P r* 3 3- .- rt 3- O ^ S 2 3 o S 3 p o O 3 3- crq -<: o n c c 3 O o fq :: ? 2 n •< S 3 S^ o s o. ^ o 5 01 , — 3 crq o c p 3 „ _ ~ ■< r^ p (T _^ 3 P ^ "^ » ° w 3 ^ 5" °- -I " m S 3- 5- § C ft o W r: (^ fC (^ ^ ? H^ CO r n c 3 p UM crq o a !-•■ UQ o -. C ft ^ 3- 3 a •<_ I— C/l C TJ U5 - ■O - > r p P 3 ' ' ?r o P P 3- o ft * ^ p O -i C en 3 > H 3* O rt -o - H 3" O c o c D. O ft o w' - _, *-► < 3 O 3 > a 'O cr n •-<; 3 P p ft' Ul E" P o ^. 3" '" ft C/l* p> n O 3 p o C/5 "1 3 W ■^ Cl- ^ fH p' 3- 3 ^ e! "0_ H c c/i • rt' 3- (yi r» p' 3 P 3- Q 3 O O 3 9^ ol cr :: '« O 3 g r - I, r ■2 E C ft —. p. 3 The Show Girl By Edwyn Stanley |HE was fair, twenty, a little excited, and adora- bly sweet in her fetching tailor suit and smart toque as she fluttered up to the box-oflSce win- dow and deposited upon the shelf thereof her ' purse, gloves, two books and a parcel, and hung her umlirella by its handle on one corner. The seller of tickets sighed with the slightest suggestion of re- signed martyrdom. He had seen much service behind the little barred windovs'. " Are you selling seats now for the — er — ' Mad Spar- tan ' ?" she asked with a positively stunning smile. "Get those at the Dreary Lane," replied the man, " where the ' Mad Spartan ' is now running." ■ Oh, dear !" she pouted prettily ; " isn't this the Dreary L me ? I thought it was. It — isn't this Broadway and Fifty-first? No? Isn't that too provoking? Couldn't you sell me tickets for the ' Mad Spartan ' ? If Id only known that I shouldn't have gotten off the car. \Vhat is pla\ing here? The 'King of Kilkenny?' Is it good? Oh, of course you have to say so. So silly of me to ask. Weil, I'll not bother going up three more blocks now. Let me have two seats for to-morrow night. Why, I don't know — how much are the orchestra seats? Two dollars ? Oh, goodness ! that would be four for two — that IS, you sell two for four. I mean two seats for ibur dollars. Then I should prefer the balcony. Yes — if we can see the stage from there. Can we ? Mabel is near- sighted, poor thing ! Perhaps she would rather sit in the orchestra. This is her treat, but I don't know whether she'd like to pay four dollars — oh, is that the diagram of the balcony ? Isn't it a funny little thing. Do all those numbers represent seats ? Which is the front row ? That ? Why, I should think that side would be towards — well, you know, of course. I think I'll take those two. Fifty-three and fifty-five, aren't they ? Oh, no ! Fifty- seven and fifty-nine — those others are in the next row. They're taken ? For to-morrow night ? Isn't that too provoking ! Away back there ? One couldn't see at all from away off there. Could one? H'm — I ' on't know. On the aisle ? Oh, no ; not on the aisle. There's always a draught — isn't There ? Well, I suppose we shall have to take them. Are you sure that these are the right ones ? Three dollars ? Charge it. Oh, a/ //ij/ am I saying ! Good- ness! where is my /«rjir .? Dear me ! to be sure. How- stupid of me ! And I just put it there myself a moment a'.ro." \ pause ensued while the voung person searched the various compartments of her purse, and for her conven- ience placed upon the window-ledge a tiny, freshly-folded handkerchief, four hairpins, a glove-buttoner, a one-cent stamp, a two-cent stamp, three pearl buttons of various sizes, a cli.itelaine chain, a ring with setting missing, a bunch of keys, and, finally, a neatly-folded one-dollar bill. Meantime she had entertained the bo.x-office man as fol- lows ; Isn't that too provoking ? I just know I put those bills in my purse at Racy's — of all the sillies ! I had forgotten all about that dressing-gown I bought for L'ncle Judson's birthday. I'll find it in just a second. My, but you do lots of business, don't you ? Are all these behind me going to bu_y tickets ? What is it ? If they ever get a chance ? I don't understand. Oh, that is unkind. I'ni sure I haven't been here a moment. Well, ot all things ! I'm sure you'll think me quite stupid, but — no ? I have only one dollar in change with me. Could I ? Two for a dollar ? Second balcon — why, that's the gallery, isn't it ? No, no, no ; that is positively absurd. I suppose I — could you ? And they would be held until half-after seven ? Very well, I'll just— oh, goodness ! these tickets say Thursday ! Is to-mcrroiv Thursday ? Why, I m to go to West Point on Thursday. Of course I can't take them now. Thank you, so mucli. Perhaps I could go Satur- dav matinee. My umbrella ? Oh, thank you. You'll think me stupid for — no ? Do these cars transfer to Mad- ison avenue ? Don't thev ? Isn't that too provoking ! Thank vou again for explaining about West Point — I mean Thursday. " She w.is gone. A delicate hint of violets lingered over the line of sixty-seven people by the window. Rara Avis. /^IVE nie the man who loves old books, '-' Old clothes, old wine, and dusty nooks In some quaint shop where, hid away. Forgotten, lost since Louis's day. Dim treasures hang on rusty hooks. Give me that man whose only need A pipe to smoke, a book to read ; Who loafs a summer afternoon, Transported by a linnet's tune From this gray world of cant and creed. Give me that man who hates the mien And prattle of a philistine ; Who loves old friends' companionship And Cyntherea's laugh and lip. Yet holds his muse liis only queen. THEODOSTA PICKERING GARRISON. The Football Craze. THE old woman who lived in a shoe explained, " I thought it would be a fine place to bring up football players," she remarked. Calling the little darlings arounil her, they practiced the latest kick. The Dyer's Hand. Brittles (who collects things) — "He's the only one of that family that can tell the truth." Mrs. Brittles — "Well, it's a good thing one of them can." Brittles — " Oh, I don't know. It spoils the set." '^14^ sr a n C Ta ;ij 3 /^ i" W P r P< ;i o •a ^ o eu c > rr g w Sl ■Jl 2 / -■ ' / / The Wail of a Poet By Pcrkin Warbeck T IS commonly known that the life ol the true poet is essentially a sad one. But It never occurs to the great, un- sympathetic public to ask why this is so. While not an out-and-out poet myself, I have worked at it enough to be able to treat this subject in such a way that the public will open its eyes with astonishment. Why should the millionaire, in spite of his indigestion, be happy, while the poet, with a per- fectly healthy stomach, lives in the twilight gloom of the weltschmertz ? (I introduce this German word be- cause it is the only one we authors have to designate the sadness of the poet. Literally it means world-pain. Common people have various aches, but the poet, when he gets a pain, calls It a world-pain, to show how much more terrible it is than any ordinary stomach- ache.) The big litterateurs like Howells and Stedman are crying for more poets. They say it is the disgrace of a dol- lar-chasing, hog-raising age that there is so little poetry, and yet what do we see ? When I have dashed off a few little things of my own to take the curse off the age, have they come forward and taken me by the hand and wept hot tears of joy down my shirt front ? They ha\e not. I do not wish to cast any reflections. I merely emphasize the statement in passing that they have not done so. The public is at liberty to draw its own conclusions. Here, then, is the first woe of the true poet. With the shyness of a brand-new pa the first morning after, he shoots his anonymous thought-child into the air, expecting it to fall to earth, he knows not where, and it doesn't. On the contrary, he knows just exactly where it falls to earth, for it comes right back as quick as Uncle Sam's mail can bring it. This fills the poet with a vast world- pain and makes him excessively tired. Last Christmas I lelt rather happy as the joy-season drew near, and clashed off a sweet, happy little thing, just to please the children of this broad land, and sent it off to a big magazine, and it came back with a note saying that I ought to have sent my Christmas poem in last February, and that they were then putting together their next August number. If I had some good bathing-suit jokes for hot weather, it said, I had better hurry them over. Now, what kind of a way is that ? When the poets are tingling with Christmas cheer tliey are expected to be at their seashore poems, and when they are just over with Christmas and trying to stave off bankruptcy they are expected to be writing their next Christmas stuff. This also causes the poet to feel a great inward weariness. Then, see how poetry is all the time changing. You study up on the class of rnyme that seems to fill a long-felt want, and when you get so you can do it in good shape — that is, turn it. out in marketable quantities, so that the returns will pay a dividend on the investment, cover wear and tear and provide a sinking-fund — you hnd there is no longer the want you had figured on, and the goods are left on your hands. Take Longfellow's lines : Life is real, life is earnest, At least that's the way it seems To me. However, everybody has A perfect right to his own idea. Would that kind of stuff meet with a popular demand to-day? I trow not. Look at the " Sweet singer of Mich- igan," whose tender melodies made life different in that section of the country back in the 'eighties. .She wrote : My heart was gay and happy, This was ever in my mind, There is better days a-coming, And I hope some day to find Myself capable of composing. It was my lieart's delight To compose on a sentimental subject. If it came in my mind just right. Is that what the public is sitting up nights waiting for at this juncture in the world's history ? I cannot bring myself to believe so. What has become of the J. Gordan Coogler style of rhythmic thought-wave ? Once all the vogue, who would attempt to sell the same kind of matter to the magazines now ? Yet the South Carolina singer was there with the goods less than a dozen years ago. Listen to this : Alas ! for the South : Her books have grown fewer — She never was much given To literature. And this : Sweet girl, I like to see you look The very best you can ; But, please, do not try so soon To imitate a man. You are not masculine or neuter — Neither of those genders ; Therefore, I advise you to Pull off those suspenders. Now, I had got so that I could turn out that kind in paying quantities, and had several tons ready to throw on the market, when along came another sweeping change in the magazine style. I sent this (cribbed it; we poets feel at liberty to take anything we like from each other — another reason why we are sad) : They stood on the bridge at midnight In a park not far from town ; They stood on the bridge at midnight Because they didn't sit down. ^ ^ ( How often, oil, how often, They whispered words so soft — How often, oh, how often. How often, oh, how oft ! The great magazine editor sent it back at once, saying that the cut, style, finish, weave, texture, dovetailing, sand-papering, the entire vortex, maelstrom and night- mare of their poetry department had been changed, and that henceforth a poem that could be understood at one reading by a master of seven languages with a brain like _a seed-squash could not be accepted. Prices, he added, had been cut one-half to curtail expenses in the shipping department. •• I inclose a sample," he wrote in conclu- sion, " which you will please toUow on all future orders until further notice. Here is the sample : " Tool, machine, tissued, sexed. Exquisitely interplexed. Gemmuled, force-form beauty-waked, Breath-fired motor reason-braked. " Verge or core, heart or brain. The mechanic beat is plain ; Mental taction open springs, Involitioned, prior things. " Record-celled counterfoils Which from convoluted coils, Fixedly recurrent flash At association's clash. " Vascular, afferent. • Efferent, contractile, blent Processes where impulse sways Inmost ganglions of the maze " Which receive, store, transmit. Reflex-mandate-active sit. Ceaselessly — what craftsmanship's Richlier noble to eclipse?" Now, wouldn't that jar you ? Wouldn't it make you mad, dear public, if you were a true poet ? That poem is by Godfrey Egremont, and we poets with the simple style of brain with two lobes are asked to compete with him, when I venture to say that his brain is exquisitely inter- plexed and at least twenty-lour stories high, a regular skyscraper brain. Finally, see what we poets get lor our pieces. When I took charge of a paper a while ago, and before I got acquainted with the local customs, two colored women came in one morning when I was very busy and asked me what it would cost to run a little obituary poem. They said it was only four lines, and I said I guessed we could take it at the same rate as a want ad. " Where is it ?" I asked hastily, but not unkindly. " Why, we thought you would write it for us," they said. And there I had given them a want-ad. rate ! 1 consulted with my foreman, who had been there all his life, and he said it was all right. They had always had their obituary poems written at the office. Just throw together anything that will rhyme and it will be satisfactory, he told me. I went down stairs and asked for particulars, which seemed to surprise them. They finally said il was an uncle. I wrote : •• Dear uncle, you have left us, We shall never see you more. Indeed, you have bereft us And we shall miss you evermore." They looked it over and seemed disappointed. Then one of them said, " He died fourteen years ago." I had to see the loreman again. " Sure ' said he ; " it's a me- morial-poem custom here. So I tried it again : " Dear uncle, fourteen years ago It is now since you died. Indeed the years they travel so Since our dear uncle died." They looked it over dubiously and handed it back. " Don't it suit you ?" I inquired. " I guess it will do," replied one of them hesitatingly ; " but it don't seem like the ones we've had here belore." I tried again : " Uncle, dear, we miss you ; It's been so long, you know, Since we have seen our uncle Who died so long ago." And that didn't suit them ! " Can't you szf that we still remember him ?' they suggested ; " for he used to say he'd bet a quarter we'd forget him in a month." Now I saw their idea. Not grief, but a wager, as it were Now it was plain sailing : " Uncle, dear, it's fourteen year Since you were gathered hence. To show that you're remembered here This poem cost twenty-hve cents." I thought I had them sure, but I was mistaken. That'a what they meant, but they didn't want to say it right out. I tried again : " Dear uncle, we have lost you. Fourteen years ago you went. But we are always going to remember you So long as we have a cent." Then I saw that this was an order that was beyond me and I went up stairs to the foreman again. " You say you have done this belore ; for heaven's sake give these people what they want. " The foreman and ad. -setter wrote promptly : " Oh, uncle dear, the hills are green. The grass, it makes them so. While you are happy where you are We are, too, here below." And that went. And the office got the quarter. The Subsequent Action. The widow (over the back fence) — " So you was over to AUegash yisterd'y ? Any news there ?" The clam-peddler — " Wa-al, Lucy Ann Pine — you know her, I guess — was settin' alone in the dark, one evenin' about two weeks ago, when a strange man slipped into- the house an' grabbed her an' forcibly kissed her." , The widow — " I want to know !" / The clam-peddler — " Yes'm ; and they do say mat she ain't had a light in the house sence." Reunion at the Pole. Jones — "Smith seems fearfully slow iA starting out with his north-pole expedition. It's a ra^er peculiar cir- cumstance all around." iSroa/M — " Yes ? How so ?" Janes—" Why, the relief expediflon has already been > gone nearly two weeks." J.^ 1/ .0 A CALEDONIA-DAY KEIUVEXATOR. I. RoDlE [the piper) — " The kilts mak ye young again. WuUy ; but ye dinna leap so spry as ye once did." Dismal Outlook. «ili/ISH you a happy new year," says the visitor, riding up to the home of the Kentucky mountaineer. " Thanks fo' yo' kind wishes, suli ; but liit looks almighty bad fo' me this coniin' yeah." " Now, I'm sorry to hear that. What seems to be the trouble ?" " Well, suh, 'long last spring me an' 'Lije Bingo hap- pened to have a I'allin' out ovah a couple o' hawgs ; so we done had a time all sence then, shootin' at each otheh f um time to time." "Oh, I shouldn't be cast down over that. Even if you have a feud, it can be ended. There's no reason why" " That's jest it, podneh ; that's jest it. 'Lije fell oflTen the side o' the mountain yestiddy, an' now I've got no feud at all." Just Reached Easy Street. Mrs. Jonesvnth — " I've just been over to see Uncle Jerseyman. He's just past his one hundred and fourth birthday." Jonesmiih — " I'd hate to get that old un- less I had plenty of property to live on. At that age a man is too old to work, and " Mrs. Jonesmith — ■' Oh, Uncle Jerseyinan says he has a splendidly-paying job writing testin^onials for three different patent-medicine concerns." The Reason. Mrs. Performing-Seal (at the inuseum) — " Seely, I dor.'t want you to associate with those Trick-Dogs at all." Seely — " Why, mamma ?" Mrs. Performing-Seal — " Because, my dear, they are low. See w'.iat abominable taste they display in choosing thtir furs." Her Thought. C'AID Prissy Ann, •■ I try to be •^ A very careful child and learn From day to day what's g o > I I 23 o w O z m 73 ^^'- ^p*^5^-^ The Happy Little Dog. 1AM the little yellow dog that's happy all the day. When I'm asleep beneath the stove or with the cat at play. Yes, I am happy through and through, and to the very brim. When up and down the stairs and round the house I gayly skim. I'm happy when I'm sitting up a piece of cake to scoop ; I'm happy when I lun to them that for me fondly whoop. I have a home, and that is why I'm always on the grin, Which means I'll never romp and bark witliin a sausage-skin. An Unsatisfactory Assurance. He — " There seems to be quite a coolness between them." She — "Oh, yes. He told her she was the only girl he ever loved platonicaUy." Melon Days in Georgy. /~*REAT times down in Georgy, ^*-* Liviii moughty fine, Bustin' watahmilyuns F'um de milyun vine. Lif a big-stripe milyun. Squash it on de groun' ; Bite um in de middle When nobody 's roun'. Squat down in a comer Ob an ole rail fence ; Shut yo'r eyes an' slumber Twel yo' got no sense. Den wake up right hungry. Go an' eat some mo' ; Tek 'em as yo' find 'em On bofe sides de row. What's de use ob wukin* Enny time ob day When de milyun 's gro«'in' Right dar in yo'r way ? SHE IS. When summer shines And winter whines She is Ihe peachy pearl That makes me whizz With joy — she is My all-the-year-round girl. A New Definition. New reporter — " But I thought you required accuracy above all things?" City editor— "Oi course we do ; but ac- curacy, as we understand it, consists in making the news fit the policy of the paper." 4( Got an Idea. A HI" »aid the visiting Russian as the pleasure-yacht scudded near the shore and he saw the crowds of merry-makers sporting in the water. •• What do you call that ?" •• That," said his host, " is one of our great American pastimes — surf bathing." " Serf bathing ? It is something needed in my country. I shall make a note of it." The Poet's Provender. MY heart is joyous in the dining-hall. Whene'er, at noon, the smiling l)oarding-ma'am Displays beside tlie dulcet frittered clam Tlie still, calm beauty of the cod-fish ball. And then the chicken of the spring is all My fancy paints— e'en to the juicy ham inibroidered with belated eggs I am Quite [artial, for it holds the muse in thrall. Welsh rabbit makes me mad as a Marcli hare. For oft when I affect it some one dies And 'm disposed to pen the threne — or monody. But. ah ! Nig It brings along her dreadful mare. Then poesy 'ncontinently flies. """he muse-von't work — she simply has strephonody. EUGKNH GEARY. SQUARING THE ACCOUNT. Josh Chuckleweight — "Well, how'd ye come out with yer summer boarders ?" Henry Le.in — "Oh. purty fair. Mother wuz laid up three months from waitin' on thet dude ; an' thet oldest son went out huntin' an' shot our Holstein heifer ; an' them brat twins burned up the corn-crib ; but when Lizzie goes to the city they promised to take her fer a ride in their aut^■mobiIe." r» A Story with the Conversation Cut Out By D. M. Reynolds " ," I objected as the butler, after taking my hat and coat, stood aside to let me pass into the drawing-room, and thus it was that we compromised on the librar)-. I found the easiest chair, lit a cigarette and possessed my soul with patience. Incidentally I expressed my opinion of Mrs. Bob's Wednesdays and some one laughed. Then I blew one last artistic smoke ring at the Bobs' latest atrocity in heathen gods and started on a tour of investi- gation. In the ingle nook, nothing ; in the den, nothing ; behind the curtains of the deep-bowed windows, Marjorie and a French novel. The mutual surprise of the discov- ery complete, she rose and greeted me with a smile. I bowed gravely and took the empty end of the window seat. " ," she remarked impersonally. '• ," I replied crossly. An " at home " was always my pet abomination, and then, inquisi- tively, " ?" French novels are not commonly in the hands of those entertaining. " ," said she, resignedly, closing the book. But I had no desire to be entertained, su I smoked in my corner while she settled herself behind the tea table. •• ?" she questioned, waving the cream jug. I despised cream and she knew it. " ," said I, pointing a suggestive finger at the rum. " ," dictatorially, so we compromised on lemon. Ensued a silence, while I looked at Marjorie over my cup and she looked out at the window. " ," she suggested conversationally. I nodded, drank my tea in silence, watching the fire- light play upon the dark masses of her hair, touching them with occasional flashes of ruddy gold. From across the hall came the melody of pulsating vio- lins, pregnant with rich unknown harmonies. Pensive, we turned to the ingle nook. •' ," I said softly, moving nearer. Silence. between us. ," I whispered, still closer. -," she defended, methodically piling pillows ," I objected, and getting no answer. began pulling the defenses to pieces. The last pillow slipped to the floor. " — ?" I pleaded. Marjorie leaned forward and began to stir the fire, and ■ I found it necessary to gently but firmly remove the tongs. ," she protested. — ," passionately. ," she replied, struggling. The door opened and Mrs. Bob stood on the threshold. " ," said Marjorie. greeting her aunt. " ," I added, looking up from the fire, which I had been punching vigorously— an occupa- tion that always lends color to my somewhat sallow com- plexion. Mrs. Bob glared. Marjorie busied herself again with the tea things. I wished I had not come. ■• ," said Marjorie lightly. Silence. ■' ," I ventured, looking at the storm- clouds outside. Mrs. Bob was not to be appeased. " ," laughed Marjorie, as I rose to go, and then, as she gave me her hand, whispered, " . " Mrs. Bob bowed icily. " ," I called from the doorway. And so I left them, Marjorie smiling, Mrs. Bob perched upon the high hobby of her dignity. " ," said I softly, and James the imper- turbable smiled as he helped me into my coat. How It Is Done. JU R. BOBSTAY FLUKE, the emfnent yachting authority, sat at his typewriter, dashing off his opinion on the first day's race for the Daily Streakoyeller. At his elbow sat his faithful assistant, holding a dictionar)- of marine terms. " At the end of the first leg," wrote Mr. Fluke, " the Reliance tried her new " Pausing, he turned to his assistant. " Turn the pages, Bill," he ordered. " Find the name of some hitherto unused form of rigging. The words you have dug out so far have been common ones. I want something unfamiliar — something that will demon- strate my excellent knowledge of nautical affairs. ' At the end of the first leg the reliance tried her new ' " " Here's the word !" cried the assistant jubilantly — " ' Shoes ' !" Complete Reparation. (( DUT your Harry broke my window, I tell you t" Mrs. Bellirgham persisted. " No, Mis. Bellingham ; he didn't," declared Mrs, Gul- dings. " He not only told me that he didn't do it, but he promised njver to do it again." Madge — " The men have changed about giving u' their sea .s in the cars." j^m^Bti? — " Perhaps it is you that has changed." Mi — ff^^ff^T the lighthouse that keeps us off the rj) in that keeps its lamp lit. It ain't thf tJSe vfeie that makes home happy ; it's the> tMe character of the women's clubs she don'i ■> Once, livhen I was ashore, I was mighty , ileath by a wicked horse I run across. Jaugbed at me. He was fourteen hi/ time| smaller'n I was, but that gee-ger^ ^^ "'^^"^^ ' I bit^ 1/ is a fake." Welsh r For oi Ana But. ah ! Nil Then poes. The mus •a 5 ■?? Q - 3 ■33 3*5 ■7.V ^ A FORTUNATE FELLOW. New arrival {Dawson cily) — " You seem the only happy man in the town.' Native — " I am, sir. I've got dyspepsia so bad I can't eat anything." WHERE HE BELONGED. Advertising was his hobby ; he represented a patent-medi- cine concern. That particular evening he drifted into the hotel in a con- dition of aggravated high lonesomeness, staggered up to the functionary in command and indicated a desire to be shel- tered. " Any choice of rooms .'" inquired the clerk, with a view to comforting his woozy guest. A GOOD CUSTOMER. Countryman — "Clear out! You cheated me like the nischief the last time you was here." Jacobs — "Veil, dem'sdergusdomers I don'd like to lose, so I calls again." The promoter of testimonial publicity coveted a good room, but his professional vocabulary was the only one at command, and he murmured : "Lemma have top col'm nex' pure readin '-matter ; pure readin' on bo' shides; pure readin' above ; pure readin' fol- lowin'on local page; four locals san'wished 'mong pershn'ls," he went on, " an' gimme lowesh rates minush agensh c'mish'n." He got a room on the top floor, facing the skylight shaft. OUGHT NOT TO NEED IT. First kid — " I tell you that india-rubber iii^ Second kid — " What do you mean 1" ' First kid—" When he goes out in the rain he wear, a mackintosh," .V o s >.- c — : c o c o U = . C o .— c y ^ (rt 2 u a c 3J *J P< IT. M u u rt c O c 1) * O ■•-' u -^ tfl 3 o *" o ' ' ' a. O U E o 1> E < j_, ^ QJ bo c O £ a; (J 1^ o 4J "rt — c c in nt t/i =5 : tfi o -<*^t«^ .- g OJ E n u H 2 — ^ V V 5 -= b(>2 S ii bo S ^ C rt ^ 1) 2 = ?> !i -"^ lis t/> -^ «; 3 S ^ 3 ~ rt i r:- 111 u 5 j= = >, S S g *" .S rt S c js 0) rt -J2 ^ ^ o ?5 ? ^ •as"'" ■o r- S C C "^ CO >,•- ^ C ^ fl! O 0; ^ W C 7j .2 i: -^ C (U i* S 9- S =^- E ^5 3 u -S ^ J3 d u — >~ rt "h F — rt ■^ -V* .^ 1 s ^ Cd rf tSJ . Z 2 3 c C c c 05 ,1- 73 U. c ■- 11 o < c o en « C 3 >. — ' ■.-' n X: o OJ .ti i; rt ^ yi >. t; 41 o E o ,5 : ,- ^ "^ ?. > bo 3 o u cu O O H T3 ^ c **- o -a S ° •3 >. c c ^ E K, K J= 2-i>^ A M ' 1 THE SIDEWALK ELEVATOR AGAIN. 'Liza — " Gracious. Lemme ! what is it?" Lem — "One o' them consarned earthquicks. Can't yer see the very ground yawnin' beneath our feet, b' gosh ?" pocket handy, and, unloading his mouth to make an outlet for his mind, he began, " I have also noticed that faint- hearted chauffeur never won fair lady, and that as ye sew so shall ye rip, and that the way of the trans- gressor is hard to get onto, and that it is a poor mule that won't kick both ways, and that the people who cast their bread upon the waters throw it up stream, and that the windy bloweth when you listeth. And I know that if all the world 's a stage Morgan must be the manager, and that if honesty is the only policy there are lots of people without insurance, and that you should look before you marry, and that it is more blessed to get rid of some things than to receive ; and I have come to the conclusion that a man may smile and smile and be married, and that if man 's a flower boys must be sunflowers, and that there is nothing in a name except your wife's, and that we never miss the dairy-milk till the well runs dry, and that a fish in the hand is w-orth two fish-sto- ries, and that if all the world loves a lover it is through pity, and that some men are born famous, some achieve fame, and some pass pure- food bills." After discharging these pellets of wisdom at a rapid-fire-gun rate, and taking a parting shot at the coal-bucket, he slid down off the counter and said, " Well, I must go home and chop some wood for my wife to get supper with, as she said she had some dried apples to cook." Homer Crov. Apple-barrel Philosophy. 44 T HAVE noticed," said the corner-store loafer, seating himself on the counter in reach of the dried-apple barrel and depositing a liberal supply ol tobacco-juice in the coal-bucket ; " I have noticed women cry over spilt milk when they ought to be thankful it wasn't the grease, and that a married man and his hair are soon parted, and that monev makes the mare go, and horse-tacing makes the money go, and that while ignorance is bliss it's a blis- ter to be wise, and that all signs fail in dry weather, 'specially fresh-paint ones, and that there are two sides to every question — your wife's and the other side." Having filled one pocket, the loafing philosopher moved to the other side of the barrel to have the empty A Flight of Fancy. TT could only have been an iridescent dream — it must ■*• have been — and yet it was so lovely that one would fain have had it real. I heard somehow, somewhere — perhaps I read it, for I have read many strange things in ^ my long life — of a policeman being punished for " talkir back " to a civilian ; or was it merely a heartless tricky fancy ? /can't No Intermission. Afrs. Wheeler — "Whatever else his faults, \y but say that Elsie's young man is constant." / , v,- i. .1/r. fr7ias to give every member an office.!' (( H^ ^ ^^^ Combination. ONK ! Honk !" The sounds come from off shore, and the landsmen turn their eyes to sea. They behold a low, red, rakish ship, with two immense head- lights, dashing through the waters. Remorselessly it crashes through such craft as are before it. .Rapidly it nears the beach. Without a pause it dashes from the water, and then the watchers see that it also has wheels, and that it goes swiftly on over the land, its skipper laugh- ing merrily as it tosses policemen from its path. "What in the world is that ?" asks one of the spectators. " I suppose," says a second ; " I suppose that is what you would call a yachto- mobde, isn't it ?" Coy. THEY sat well for- ward, in the shade of the aW'Uing. 'But, my dear," whispered the young man, " you should not object to my having my arm about you when even the scenery is setting me the ex- ample." "Is it ?" asked the shy maiden. "Yes, indeed. See, there is an arm of the bay hugging the shore." "Yes.'" she dis- puted. " But the shore has a cape and I have not." It was the work of but a moment for him to rush to the state-room and get it for her. .ACCOUNTED FOR Doctor Jones — •' I fear your heart is affected, miss. Do you ever expe- rience n smothering sensation?" Miss Gusher — " Oli, yes ; often." Doctor Jones — " Ali ! At what times ?" Miss Gusher — '-Well, usually riglit after Ferdy turns down the gas." .Ifrs. Ccbwigger — " I don't see how your dinner made you sick." Freddie — " Why, ma, didn't you make me eat only the things that were good for me ?" ■^^3 An Old Salt's Observations By Ed\varcl Marshall HEN a girl marries his troubles begin. When a wakeful husband mentally compares th' snorin' of his wife to th' music of a great cathedral's fine pipe-organ it's a sign that he is really in love with her. They say cigarettes will kill. When I look at most of th' fel- lers that smoke 'em I hope they're right. I knew a minister who was furious when he received a cheque from a divorce lawyer, with a note sayin' that he felt he ought to share the profits of liis business with him. '• Everybody else has to pay th' man who supplies him with his raw material." th' letter said. There's three ways of spellin' dishonesty. One's th' way I've just spelled it ; another is " t-a-c-t," an' another is " d-i-p-1-o-m-a-c-y. " Th' man who was so lazy that he couldn't chew his food, an' th' man who was so busy that he didn't have time enough to, are in th' same place now. Women differ. My wife can make a hotel-room feel like home in ten minutes ; but there is them that can make home feel like a hotel-room in less time than that. Th' trouble with bringin' up children, so far as /can see, is that you can't do it. They'll attend to that them- selves if they're any good ; an' if they ain't — why, what's th' use ? It's astonishin' how much I do love my wife Lyddy just about th' time my ship gits fur enough away from th' •dock so that I can't see her handkerchief a-wavin' there no more. Men are mills, but they are of two kinds. First, th' kind that grinds grist only with their teeth ; an' second, those that grinds a very little with th' wheels in their heads. Them latter we call intellectual. Horses have to wear blinders so they can't see what's a-goin' on along th' road. There'cl be fewer cases in th' divorce courts if some women could make their husbands wear 'em, too. I know a sea-captain who heroically jumped m an' ■saved seventeen people an' a terrier dog from drownin'; but if he'd had his new uniform on he'd 'a' waited to have a boat lowered. Tell me that we ain't creatures of cir- cumstance. I've been so hungry that it seemed to me I'd die if I didn't git some food ; but I never wanted grub so bad as I did a kiss one night just after I had done something mean to my wife an' she knew it, an' I knew she knew it, an' she knew I knew she knew it. A boy in my school could whistle through his teeth. We all envied him. He ain't no great shakes now that (he's growed up. We don't envy him no more.' I wonder if we won't feel about th' same in th' next world when we look at th' men who can make money here on earth. Two sailors had a hot fight in th' fo'c's'le, an' I had to haul 'em up for it. " What was you a-scrappin' about ?" 1 asks. " Why," says one of 'em, " Bill, here, he .says brigantine is spelt with a u-n un, an' I says it's spelt with an e-n en." " What difference does it make to either ol you ?" I asks. '■ Not none," says both of 'em together. " All right," I says ; "I'll put you both in irons. You're both wrong. It's spelt with an a-n an." An' I did. It's just like that with most of th' folks that gets punished for bein' quarrelsome. If a man 's got silk linin' in his overcoat it's astonishin' what cold weather it 'Mill take to make him button it up tight when walkin' on th' street. But real la:e on a petti- coat will make a woman hold her dress-skirt up real care- ful when it ain't much of any muddy. " That doctor saved my life," says a man to me. " How did he do it ?" 1 asks. " Well, 1 went to one doctor when 1 was sick an' he made me worse ; then I went to another, an' he made me worse yet. Then I called on th' one whom I just pointed out to you." " An' he cured you ?" I said, deeply interested. " No," says th' man ; " he w-asn't home." A minister was elected to th' legislature. Th' first bill he introduced prohibited all men from goin' to church. There was a howl about it in th' papers until he made his explanation. " 1 thought maybe," he remarked, " that it would work like that designed to keep 'em out of gin-mills on th' sabbath — an' somethin' /ntisi be done to increase our Sunday congregations." A Burning Question. CAN any one tell why a blamed old hen. Witli plenty good land of her own, Won't stay there and-scratch to her heart's content And let other folks' gardens alone ? In Delaware. 2 < s > •3 n <'^ c •^ XT' "^ ,^ IT < o 9* -^f DREAMS, IDLE DREAMS. The boy—" Oncet a feller give me a tub uv pink ice-cream an' a whole barrelful uv lickerisli-droiis an' a hatful uv jelly-cake." The girl—" An' what 'd yer do-?" The boy — " I fell outer bed an' bumped me head sometliin' orful." A Chromatic Charmer. TS.-VBELL.A is brilliant in yellow, ^ Isabella is dainty in pink ; And when she wears red She goes right to my head — Bella 's dearest in scarlet, I think. Purple sets off the fringe of her lashes, And orange becomes lier well, too, While a violet gown Makes the envious frown — I never am "blue" when she's blue. She's stunningly svelte in a black dress. She's equally slim in a white ; And if you should ask me I think it would task me To say when she isn't all light. What is it you hint? ' I am partial?" Oh, skeptics ! yuu quite take the cake ! Yes — of course — bet your life Isabella *s my wife. What dilVrence on earth does that make i CHANNING POLLOCK. A Straight Tip. Newrich (in a moment of confidence) — " I don't seem to quite get the hang of this society business. Even my footman seems to be a laughing-stock." Cobivigger — " You'd get along all right, old man, if you dropped the airs you put on and made your footman assume tliem instead." '^^f'^ A MOST HUMANE MAN. Lawyer — "Judge, this man couldn't maltreat a horse. He's the kindest ot men to animals. Why. he feeds his dog on nothing but tenderloin steaks. Only the other day he beat his wife black and blue for forget, ting to feed the dog." ^4 7 Judy Clancy's Party By Max Mcrryman I DIDN'T see yeez at Judy Clancy's parthy, Mrs. Noonan." Mrs. Hoolihan put the words ten- tatively when the two ladies met on the corner, Mrs. Noonan with a broken-nosed pitcher capable of holding a couple of quarts under her apron, and Mrs. Hoolihan with a number of purchases in her apron, among them a good-sized haddock, for the day was Friday. " Luk at me jaw," said Mrs. Noonan, touching her left cheek lightly with one finger. "It do look a bit shwollen," said Mrs. Hoolihan. " Toot' ache ? " " God above ! worse than thot — an ulsherated toot', an' me whole jaw pufTed out worse nor Tom Noonan 's lift eye whin he come home from de Murphy wake last Chews- day noight. Thot's de rason yeez didn't see me at Mrs. Clancy's parthy last noight. Whin de rest of yeez was inj'yin' yerselves at de parthy Oi was walkin' de flure wid a red flannel rag clapt to me jaw an' de ulsheration makin' me give tin yells to de sicoiul. Yis, Mrs. Hoolihan, it was me toot' lost de Clancy parthy to me." " Have yeez been to de dintist wid it ?' " Oi have, an' he aized me arlniost immejeetly by yank- in' de devilish toot' out, but some av de ache is lift. Oi t'ot thot mebbe a little beer would be h'alin' to it." " No doubt it will, Mrs. Noonan. It's a great h'aler av aches an' pains av arl koinds if wan teks enough to bring on blessed forgetfulness. But ye missed a grand toime by not comin' to de Clancy parthy." " Don't mintion it, ma'am ! Oi'm arlmost as sore over missin' av it as I am over me toot'. Oi'd iv'ry intintion av goin', an' Oi'd put in a good sivin hours washin' an' ironin' meself up for de 'casion. Oi'd me white skir-r-r-t starched thot stiff it'd shtand alone, an' me hair was in crimpin' pins whin de divilish toot'ache grabbed me as sudden as de appendysheetus graljbed meould man lasht spring. Wan hour as well as any man nade be an' de ni.xt flat on his back an' him in de harsepital wid de docthors comin' at him wid their knives almost before he knowed it was appendysheetus at arl at arl. De suddenness av it arl was as bad as de appendysheetus itself. Dear, dear, phuat a bother our teet' an' our appendydi.xes can be ! But Noonan is shy wan av his appendydixes an' Oi'm Shy wan av me teet', so we're thot much ahid av thim thot's got thim to lose." "Thot's roight, Mrs. Noonan, an' it's some compinsa- tion to know thot de toot' will never ulsherate an' de appendydix will niver flure Noonan no more. But phwat a pity de toot'ache couldn't of hild off long enough for yeez to of attinded Mis. Clancy's parthy. It's long since we'd so iligant a parthy here in Doody's coort. Judy was loike de hin Oi read av thot tried to cover twinty-foive eggs; she spread herself mightily." " Yeez can arlways trust Judy Clancy to do thot, any- how. She's de chake av a cop an' a arlderman an' a ward pollytishun arl in wan. Ye moind de airs she gave her- self at de Mulligan funeral last wake, an' her only a foorth cousin to the carpse ? Wan would av t'ot she was his widdy, or aven de carpse hisself, from de airs av her — not m'anin' to say annything onfriendly to Judy, for it's only her way, an' no wan is more ready nor Judy to do a frind a good turn, an' it's out wid her taypot she is or wan av her yangwans is sint 'round de corner wid a pitcher de moment wan calls on her. She's a rale leddy, is Judy Clancy, an' sorry Oi was not to be in attindance at her parthy. Was it well attinded ?" " De biggest part av de coort was there, ma'am to say nothin' av Arlderman O'Hinnissy an' his woife an' " " Luk at thot, now ! Nixt veez know Judy will be roight hand an' glove wid de Fcor Hundred an' ixchangin' calls wid de Vanderbiltses an' thim sort. She's aquil to anny- thing. Yeez moind how it was Judy herself thot led de grand march at de shwdll gatherers' bail ? Phwat a climber she'd mek in de smart set if she give her attintion to it ! Phwat wdd her gall an' her goodluksan' her cliver- ness an' her frindliness she'd hould her own wid anny av 'em. Thin she's got phwat some av de smart set lack, an' thot's brains." " Oi guess yeez do be roight about thot, ma'am — pore t'ings ! Oi've often said that if their brains was aquil to their money, Fift' avenoo would be arl intelleck, an' God only knows phwat turn it would tek ! Too much intelleck often meks wan as big a fool as too much money." " Thot's de God's troot, an' Oi'm t'ankful Oi've not loo much av wan nor de other. But about Judy Clancy's par- thy. Haven't yeez heard annything about it .''" " Oi have n:)t, but Oi've seen Tim Whalen's oye." " Tut, tut, tut ! Thot was de only bit av onplisintness thot happened, so it's hardly, worth mekin' mintion av. An' Tim an' Jerry Murphy parted frinds afther de foight, de anners bein' about aven whin it come to black oyes." An' yeez haven't heard annything about de iligafit dhress Judy wore to de parthy .'" " Oi have not. Sure an' wasn't it de grane tafiity silk she's been mekin' such a spread wid iv'ry place she's wint for a year an' more back ?" " Not on yer loife it wasn't, Mrs. Noonan ! De ould grane taffity, wid its frazzled-out lace flounce an' arl split out under de arrums, as a chape taffity will, wasn't in it wid de iligant gown in which Judy kem fort' at her parthy — a birt'day parthy it was, as yeez are no doubt aware, ma'am." " Yis— her t'irty-sivinth birt'day, she give out, so there's no doubt but thot she's beyand forty-sivin." "Oh, she's fifty if she's a day, but phwat smsible per- son ixpicts a woman to tell de troot' about her age whin she's beyand t'irty ? It ain't in rason to ixpict it, an- Judy's loike de rist av her sex— she chops off two years for iv'ry wan she adds to her age. She'll chop off t'ree whin -7/? V she goes bey.ind fifty. It's a woman's perrvogative to ilo de loike av thot, an' where's de liarrum ? But about Judy's dhress she had on to her parthy. Sure an' her sis- ter-in-law, Dinnis Phelin's woife, hail on Jucivs ould grane taffity. It was loike de koind heart av Judy to loan it to poor Ann Phelin whin Judy hersilf had such a grand gown to wear, an' God knows Ann niver before felt de feel av silk next to her skin. It's lucky she is to have a new caliky wanst a year, wid arl her raft av yangwans an' Din- nis jugged half de toime for some divilmint or other. Ann 's a good sivlnty-foive pounds heavier nor Judy, so de taflity was a moighty snug fit, an' a fresh split bruk out in de back before Ann had been tin minnits in it. An' she didn't know she was to wear it until afther she got there." ?^ " How kem thot ? " Mrs. Hoolihan was seized with such violent mirth that she held her gaunt sides with both hands and swayed to and fro laughing for several minutes before saving, '• Wait until Oi tell yeez about de gown Judy had on. Sure an' it was fit for a quane. Not aven Alderman O'Hinnissy's woife, wid her yallow silk an' black lace, had one to mritch Judy's. Hers was a pink satin, moind yeez, a rose-pink satin wid a thrail a good foor feet long, an' lace — de hovvly saints above us, de lace there was on thot gown 1 ' " God above ' how did Judy Clancy git insoide av a dhress loike thot ? We arl know thot Moike Clancy has his twinty dollars a wake, but" " Moike Clancy's wages for twinty wakes wouldn't have paid for thot dhress. The iligance av it ! None av yer ready-made hand-me-downs to be bought at a bargain sale or a fire sale or anny other koind av a sale, marked down f:om a hundred to tin dollars an' eighty- sivin .cents — no, no, Mrs. Noonan 1 Thot gown was de rale t'ing, an' de lace was de rale lace. Wasn't Oi lady's maid wanst an' don't Oi know de rale from de imniyta- tion ? Thot Oi do ! An' thot gown niver was built anny place but in Paris or on Fift' avenoo. Oi said thot to Honory Eagen de minnit Oi clapt me oyes on it. It had de luk, de ■ air ' wan niver sees in no hand-me-down gown. Thot gown was made to arder, an' thot lace — it's de God's iroot thot de lace flounce on' tliot gown was de width av de hull len'th av me arrum I An' Judy ! Well, well, anny woman ciid be ixcused for puttin' on airs wid a rag loike thot on her back ! Judy was loike wan walkin' on air. Her chakes was as pink as her gown an' she'd de oye av wan in de sivinth heaven. Oi'd been there but a few minnits whin she tuk occasion to whisper in me ear, " • Ketch on to me dhress ! A birt'dav prisint it was from me sister Katy in BuflTylo. It kem by ixpress not six hours ago. An' me thinkin' Oi'd wear me ould grane t'.ffity wid ear new born ~, When Mr. Damphule toots his horn. NOT "SENTED." Small boy — "Mister, 1 wants a bottle of vaseline." A SLY COON. Farmer Jones — " I thought I neard some one at ther chicken-house, an' they wuz two fellers come in hyar, thet's certain ; but they shorely must hev iiad wings ter git erway 'thout niakin' tracks." 'Rastus {in the rear) — " Golly ! dis is er close shave. But Ah reckon dis scheme uv walkin' backwards 'II puzzle him long ernuff toe let me git erway." Drug -clerk — " Do you want scented or un- scented.'" Small boy — " No. n; fetch it wid me." A MIXED FAMILY. He was a widower and the father of two children, aged respectively five and seven. She was a widow who possessed one young hopeful aged five. They met, and immediately established a mutual-admiration society of two, which resulted in marriage. In the due course of time their family was enlarged by the advent of twins. Returning from business one evening, he was startled by shrieks from the . nursery. Racing up-stairs, he took in the situation at a glance, and a moment "1 upon burst his KNEW HER FAILING. The arch fiend — " Maybe you can find your wife among these restless spirits which you see so sorely driven by the stormy blast." New arrival (from Chicago) — " I wouldn't wonder. She always was a high-flyer." later wife. "Amy, for heaven's sake ! go to the nursery, for your children and my children are trying to murder our children." THE BEST POLICY. Mother — "Here, Ar- thur, is the ten cents I promised you for being vaccinated." Arthur — "Just give me a nickel, mamma. It only hurt half as much as I thought it would." EQUALITY. He (angrily) — " Look at this bill. Forty dollars for perfumery — for mere odors that fade away for- ever !" She (calmly) — " Gone to meet the smoke from the last eight boxes of cigars you have consumed during the last three months." It's some min don't talk wurds ; talk carpit-tacks. thot they THE IMPROVISED MUFF. Mr. Xith on a warm- II. -and a cold day. -?<♦- Brother Sncbcckcr's Panther. The Moving Tale of Her Tender Passion, and Her Fierce and Fatal Jealousy By Ed Mott AYBE you didn't know, " Kiar," remark- ed Solomon Cribber, dropping with- out provocation into chronicling, " that Uncle David Beckendarter's brother Snebecker was one o' those noble patriots that dropped the plow in the furrow and took up their guns to go forth to do battle at their coun- try's call. Maybe you didn't know that, 'Kiar ? ' " I never heerd nothin' about his droppin' his plow in the furrow," replied 'Kiar Biff, the landlord ; " but I -remember the day he was drafted." This seemed to give pleasure to Squire Birkett. from over Hogback, and he hummed a stave or two of that stirring war-chant of '63; "They took him— yes, they took him to the arms of Abraham "; but not even such uncharitable references as these could disturb the equanimity of Solomon Cribber when he was chronicling, and he scorned them and proceeded. " When Uncle David's brother Snebecker was tightin' and bleedin' in his country's cause," said he, " he was took prisoner one time by a passel of gorillies in the wild mountains down there somewheres. They was polite to him, though, he said, and told him he could turn in and git a good night's sleep, it bein" nearly dark then, 'cause they'd have to hang him pretty early next mornin', bein' as they had to take an early start to git to the next place they was goin', and they give him the privilege o' pickin' out the tree he'd ruiher be hung on. He thanked 'em, picked out his tree, and turned in. " The gorillies had been so polite and considerate that he sort o' hated to do it, but he got to thinkin' how much nicer it 'd be to git back home some time and hear the purlin' murmur of the old Passadanky ag'in than it would to stay in that camp till mornin' jest to hear old Jordan roll, so he concluded that he'd give 'em the slip, and some time durin' the night he managed to do it. As long as he had done it he knowed it behooved to keep a-goin', ler if they foUered and ketched him he knowed it 'd go hard with him, and that they wouldn't even give him the privilege of pickin' out his tree. So he did keep a-goin', stumblin' and staggerin' along through the dark, further and further away into the wilderness. " He kep' a-goin' all that night, and when daylight come he flopped down 'longside of a rock and says to himself, " ' I dunno whether they're on my track or not, but I do know that I'm goin' to have a nap, by skeezix, trailin' me or no trailin' me, and be durned to 'em .' says he. " In less than half a minute he was snorin', and he must 'a' been tremendous tired and sleepy, fer when he went to sleep the sun was jest comin' up, and when he woke up the sun was jest goin' down. He was shiverin' with cold, and seein' that he'd have to have a better place than the outside ol a rock to spend the night in, he looked around and see an openin' in the rocks. When he went to git up, though, to see whether that openin" was big enough to hold him fer the night, he found that he was stiffer and sorer than a foundered horse, and it was all he could do to drag himself to the hole. It was the openin' to a cave as big as a tent. " ' This ain't bad,' says Uncle David's brother Sne- becker. ' This '11 do fust rate,' says he, and he stretched out and went asleep ag'in. " When he woke up some time or other in the night he didn't only feel as if every bone in his body was a holler tooth, and achin' the best it knowed how, but he felt as if he mowt be layin' in somethin' like a cider-press, with some one squeezin' of it down. Then he heerd somethm' breathin' as strong as a Passadanky fellow-citizen full o' raftsman's rum, and turnin' his eyes down along himselt he see two balls o' fire shinin' in the darkness, jest over his chist, and felt hot puffs of air strikin' him in the face, reg'lar as the tickin' of a clock. The balls o' fire lit up things so that 'fore long he see that what made him feel as if he was bein' squeezed down in a cider-press was a tremendous big she panther, layin' with a good part of herself on his chist and breathin' in his face, and that the balls o' fire was her eyes glarin' at him. "'This is cheerin' !' says .Snebecker. 'I've holed up in a panther den, and the panther has ketched me at it ! One o' these mountain panthers that ain't never so tickled as when they git a man to eat ! This is cheerin' !' says he. " He didn't have a weapon of any kind, and his j'ints was so stiff that he was afeerd he mowt break some of 'em in the rassle if he tackled the paniher and went to chokin' her to death, so he kep' his temper and let her lay there, trustin' to somethin' happenin'. Bv and by the balls o' fire went out, and Uncle David's brother Sne- becker knowed the panther had gone to sleep, so he dropped off into another snooze himself. When he woke it was daylight, and the panther had got up and was layin' stretched full length across the openin' o' the cave, lookin' sort o' longin' at Snebecker. " When she see that Snebecker was awake she riz to her feet, and come to'rds him. " ' Wants her breakfast pooty ding early, seems to me !' says Snebecker, put out like Sam Hill to think that she was goin' to begin at him 'fore he hardly had his eyes open yit ; then rememberin' that if you look wild beasts in the eye with a bold and unflinchin' look you cow 'em down, he turned setch a look on to this one, and when she come up to him he reached out and tickled her on the head, and smoothed her fur like he would a pet cat's, but -27S ready all the time to clutch her by the throat and have it out with her if she didn't wilt but went to diggin' pieces out of him fer breakfast. " But she wilted. She wagged her long tail and rubbed her head ag'in Uncle David's brother Snebecker, and purred till, if the cave 'd had winders in it, Snebecker says, they'd 'a' rattled like all possessed. Then she went off 10 one side and laid down, and Snebecker got to his feet somehow, and limped around the cave as if he was sort o' settin' things to rights. Then he sauntered keer- less-like out o' the cave and tottered along, pretendin' that he was only lookin' the surroundin's over to see how he liked 'em, but thinkin' all the time that mebbe he could keep it up till he got out o' the panther's reach. He hadn't gone fur, though, when out she come a-bouncin'. She rounded Snebecker up and headed him off, growlin' fierce and showin' her fangs in a way that didn't leave no doubt in Snebecker's mind as to her meanin'. " He sot down with his back ag'in a tree and pon- dered. "'I'm oh the limits, plain enough,' says he. 'She's keepin' me till she wants me. Then she'll take me in. This comes of abusin' the politeness of them gorillies,' says he. ' If I hadn't done that I'd 'a' been calm and peaceful now, 'slid o' sufiferin' with these achin' j'ints, and with a future that don't reach no further than a panther's maw ! It serves me right i' says he. " The panther laid down nigh him and looked up at him with no more fire in her eyes than if she was a lamb. Snebecker patted her on the neck. She liked il, and rubbed ag'in' him and purred and wagged her tail. By and by she went up a wild plum-tree that stood nigh and crawled out on a limb. It was loaded with ripe wild plums, and Snebecker, bein' hungrier than a wolf by this time, had been wonderin' how he was goin to git some of 'em. She danced on the limb till it broke under her and she come tumblin' to the ground with it. Then she drug it and laid it in Iront o' Snebecker, purrin' and waggin' her tail ! "'Consarn her !' says he. ' I ain't fat enough for her, and she's goin' to feed me till I be !' says he. " But he eat somethin' like a peck o' the plums, all the same, and they put stren'th in him, so that he thought he'd venture on a little stroll ag'in, bein' as the panther was in setch a good humor. Mebl)e he could fool her, somehow, he thought, and git away. He walked up along the creek that run by that spot, makin' out that if there was any place on top of earth he'd rather be than another it was right where he was. The panther trotted along close by his side. A hundred yards up the creek stood a big white rock. He limped along till he got there, and if ever Uncle David Beckendarter's brother Snebecker was took back so that he hollered, it was then. Close 'longside the rock laid the skeleton of another feller, bleachin' in the sun. Snebecker stood slock still. So did the panther. Snebecker stared at the remains a spell and then glanced at the panther. The panther was lookin' up at him, Snebecker says, with a knowin' grin on her face and her eyes shinin' green. And what did he read on her face as meanin' o' that look ? " ' This is as fur as the feller got !' " That's what he read on the panther's face, and he turned and started on his limpin' way back, the panther trottin' a little ahead of him, as if she knowed ding well that he would foUer. He hadn't took more than a couple o' steps when he see a liig dirk-knife, the blade yaller with rust, layin' on the ground. He stooped quick and got it. " ' Hope I'll have better luck with it than t'other feller did !' says he, and he hid it in his clothes. " When they got back to the cave Snebecker was \'uck- ered out, and he couldn't 'a' got no lurther if he'd had the chance, which he didn't, fer the panther stayed close till night cotne, and then climbin' the tree and pickin' some more plums fer Snebecker, she give a howl and went boundin' away into the wilderness. The creek had a queer-lookin' bottom o' white sand where it flowed nigh the cave, and Snebecker stumbled along down to the creek and brung up a hatful o' the sand and went to scourin' the rust offen the blade o' the knife he had found. After he got it scoured he sharpened it on the rocks. He ex- pected the panther 'd be comin' back some time in the night, and he had an idee. Then he tumbled into the cave and went to sleep. " But the panther didn't come home that night, nor she wasn't home yit when Snebecker woke up in the mornin'. He peeked out, but she wasn't nowheres around. He was feelin' a little limberer, and lie concluded not to wait fer the panther to come home. He thought he'd jest make a dash into the creek and so on down it a ways, so the panther couldn't foller the scent of his tracks. He scooted as fast as he could fer the creek and jumped in, right where the queer white sand-spot was. He hadn't no more than struck it than he begun to sink. " • Quicksand as sure as bullets !' Snebecker hollered, and he could hear old Jordan rollin' above the roar o'that creek. He sunk and he sunk. He had got down as fur as his arm-pits. " ' Oh !' says Snebecker ; ' oh, fer the tree the gorillies let me pick out ! Or else fer the maw of the panther I' " He was down most to his neck in the suckin' sands, when somethin' grabbed him by the collar, and with one, two, three tremendous yanks pulled him out o' the hole and landed him on the solid bank. He come down wi;h a squash, and lookin' up see the panther standin' ever him ! She had saved his life, and she steered him back to the cave, purrin' like a distant thunder-storm, and rub- bin' ag'in' him and waggin' her tail, and lookin' up in his face like a dyin' calf! Then it struck him all in a heap. The panther was sweet on him ! She had fell in love with him head over heels ! And that was why she didji't want him to get away ! "This was flatterin' and touchin' to Uncle David's brother Snebecker, but it was alarmin'. Could he go stick a knife into her now, partic'larly as she had snatched him out of a livin' grave ? And so he dallied there fer days, eatin' the plums and the wild grapes she gathered fer him, and tryin' to git up courage enough to run awav, and yit hatin' to do it. But, any way, he got a longin' fer some meat. Wild plums and grapes was all right, but he felt an emptiness that nothin' but meat o' some kind 'd till. One day, when he was pinin' this way fer meat, a pair o' cooin' wood-pigeons lit in a tree nigh the cave. ^^{p Snebecker up with a stone and knocked one of 'em out o' the tree. He didn't kill it, and it fluttered around on the ground. That made Snebecker sorn-, much as he wanted meat, and he picked up the bird and held it ag'in his face, and stroked its feathers and talked to it gentle. " The pantlier was layin' at the mouth o' the cave, and when she see Snebecker caressin' the pigeon and talkin' soothin' to it, she bounced on to him with a yell that made his blood run cold. She slapped her paws agin his chist and snapped at his throat with her red jaws, her eyes flashin' fire. In a second Snebecker tossed the bird away, and with one jab sent his dirk clean to the hilt in the pan- ther's heart. She dropped to the ground, give Snebecker a look that went to his heart most as deep as his dirk had sunk into her'n, and was dead as that bleachin' skeleton up by the white rock, her ding jealousy havin' been too overpowerin' fer her love, and Snebecker's dirk havin' been p'inted jest right. And there the wounded pigeon, too, laid dead, with its poor mate a moumin' on the limb — and Snebecker without an e.xcuse fer killin' it, fer he had no match to build a fire to cook it. So, takin' it all in all, the tender strings of his heart was tetched so power- ful that he sot down and wept floods o' hot and scaldin' tears. Floods o' hot, scaldin' tears !" " Well, why in Sam Hill," said 'Kiar Biff, " didn't he use 'em to b'ile that pigeon in, then ? Seems to me that 'd 'a' eased up on his feelin's about not havin' any match." But Mr. Cribber had chronicled, and he was not dis- posed to commit the record to any e.xpression of opinion on 'Kiar's remark, and he did not. Destiny and the Cow By [Richard S. Graves lESTIXY lurks sometimes in the fence corners, and often where we do not expect to see it. The innocent bystander is shot, and the giant ' fire-cracker goes ofl in the hand of the dealer ; and oftentimes the man who sroes unscathed throusfh a war comes home to be run over and killed by a beer- wagon. There was McSpadden's cow, for instance. She was a creature nobody thought Destiny would use. She looked like a hide hung on a picket-fence. Her eyes were mild, and the swing of her tail looked like the wave of a wand, but it wasn't. It was equal to a stroke of paralysis. It resembled a well-sweep with a cyclone handling the other end. Destiny hung about that cow a score of years^ hovering around like an impending doom and waiting for a chance at McSpadden. Destiny put out a danger-signal for him every time the cow swung her tail around, but he would not heed a warning. When she swung it and knocked him off the stool he patiently resufned the operation of milk ing her, though often stunned and blinded. He appeared to be infatuated — or it may have been that he just wanted the milk. He even sang joyously at times. He was used to it. Anybody could see the hand of Destiny in it after it was all over, but the soothsayer has not been born who could have foretold just how fate intended to ripen Mc- Spadden for the obsequies. He was a large man with a liking for green cucumbers, and nobody would have guessed anything but a case of cholera morbus, with a doctor to do the rest. McSpadden was a short-sighted man at the best, or he would not have tied a twenty-pound rock to the cow's tail to prevent her from lashing him in the face. A few hours later his clammy corpse was found in the fence corner, and the cow was calmly chewing her cud. Several of the boards were broken, showing that the cow had stood there and practiced, considering that she had several more throws after he was dead. It may be that she intended to jerk the rock through the air and knock the eternal day- lights out of a fly. However that may be. Destiny got in her work. McSpadden's head was in the way. It is impossible to understand the hypothesis upon which Destiny works. The good die young, while the tough live on to a ripe old age, burglarizing or practicing law. Sometimes the bravest soldier is kicked to death by a mule. Destiny and dignity do not go hand in hand. At times it looks as though Destiny is trying to be funny with us. The Virtuoso. I E led oft with the left and made a dash At Chopin's nocturne, opus twenty-three, In A(sia) minor, and 'twas brave to see Ilim tackle Liszt's Hungarian goulash. The grand piano almost went to smash \\Tien \\'agner numbers followed fast and free. The audience heard the weird cacophany, And. silent, mourned the loss of hard-won cash. But now the artist makes a fresli assault Boldly upon the pliant instrument, And, freed from classicism's hide-bound laws He pounds the willing keys without a halt. It is " Bedelia," and the air is rent With one long, ringing salvo of applause. H^ EUGENE GE.\RV. No Use. li/E meet the extravagant woman at the bargain- counter. " Why do you spend so much money ?" we ask. "Would it not be well to lay by something for a rainy day ?" With a merry- gurgle of laughter she replies, " Good- ness, no ! I never go shopping on rainy days." i-ry fX FIRE-Y STEEDS. Adown the frosty course he speeds On wings of wind and ringing steeds, Of ruts ahead quite unaware Until his fiery steeds do rear, loo late he cries in mortal terror, "Alack ! I've made a glaring error." Kind reader, pause ; the moral's solemn- Skate slow and save your spinal column. YVETTE GUILBERT. AMZELLE YVETTE, your chansonette Ees very decoUetS. We just pretend to comprehend Ze naughty things you say. Your pretty face, your chic and grace. Hold momentary sway, And then we blush and bid you " Hush I"— After you've gone away. IF WOMAN HAD HER WAY. He — " I see they are again discussing' the question, 'What shall we do with our ex-presidents ?' She- 'not the shadow of a doitbt." It seems to be a difficult problem." That's just like you men ; you are so unpractical in everything. If women had a say in the government we would settle it in a jiffy." He—" How ?" She — " Why, abolish the office of e.x-president, of course." A SUNDAY-SCHOOL DIALOGUE. Reverend Dr. Boneshake — " A painful rumor hab reached me dat Brudder Backslide done got tight yesterday. An' he had jes' signed de pledge toe drink nuffin' but watah." Deacon Setback (dubiously) — " Mebbe he was watah-tight." The charming maid Pretends to wade. And uses all her arts, But not into the sea she wades — She wades into our hearts. A NEW FASHION. Mike (going by a house that has the mourning symbol attached to the door-knob) — " Begorra ! thot's the first house Oi ive. "^w wearin' a necktoie." THE AGE OF IMPRESSION- ISM. First artist (pat- ronieingly) — ' 'Van Dike is a good fel- low, but he never will be a finished painter." Second artist — "No; all of his fv^- ures are entirely too life-like." EMINENT PLAYERS. " There's a great game of poker go- ing on in that side room." "Who's play- ing?" "A man from Pine. Blul' is pitted ,. against a Council \ Bluffer." TWO OF A KIND. The season now Has come, alas ! Of oyster-stews and pastry-cooks ; She wades not now into our hearts- She wades into our pocket-books. J .i^ The Summer Band, AGAIN I hear, dear heart, keep still ! Flock by yourself, in some retreat ; Take to the woods, go chase yourself — The band is passing down the street. The flags are up, and in the winds Then fly the red and white and blue. The band plays on ; but. weary heart, There's nothing in the air for you. An Indian, so the legend runs. Will slow up when iie hears a note, And grow as docile tlirough and through As any home-fed nanny-goat. Ah, could he but hear those tunes which The street-bands call their summer goods — • ' B— d — Ha " and al'. kindred stuff' — He'd take instanter to the woods. f. h. b. At Larchmont. She (shuddering) — " Oh, George ! I just read that all vessels have rats on them. Is that so ?" He (reassuringly') — " Well, you needn't worry, dear. My boat is a cat-boat." His Mistake. Manhattan — " How on earth did it happen that old Rocksby got arrested for highway robbery ?" Broadway — " The old fool forgot himself and tried to practice as an individual tlie same methods he has always used as the head of a corporation." MIGHT CHANGE HIS MIND. ' Was your son graduated as a lawyer ?" ' Well, he thinks so now. He hasn't had a case yet, you know." The Ins and Outs. 4 ^llJOW, James," said the business man to the new office- boy, "I want you, the first thing yoii do, to get acquainted with the ins and outs of this building, for I will want you to run a great many errands from office to office." James bowed politely and left the room, to be gone all morning. At last his employer sent another boy in search of him. The other boy came back alone. " Did you find James ?" asked the man. " Yes, sir. He's down stairs, walking around and around in one of the whirling doors. Says you ordered him to get onto all the ins and outs, and there's no end of them." Winning the Press. "THE temperature was rising rapidly under the com- mander-m-chief's collar. "See here !" he said to the man whose duty it was to " fi.\ " the correspondents — in other words, the army press- agent. " The other side is getting more ' space ' than we are, and the accounts are more favorable, too. If you value your job you will have to do something at once." The press-agent's pulse quickened as he realized that at last it was up to him ; but his face remained imper- turbable and, to use a common e.xpression, he thought like greased lightning. Presently the lucky inspiration arrived. " We might advertise the next battle in the papers," he suggested nonchalantly. " Forgive my hasty words 1" cried the commander-in. chief, falling on his neck. " I couldn't get along with- out you. For this you shall ! SlfilHIIHIIHIIIillllllllM^ 1 "^^ decorated." The Spice of Variety. Lady — '• Do you always gamble at marbles.'" Kit^" Not on yer life, lady ! I sometimes plays de races an' goes up against de cards." A Retrospect. WHEN I was one-and-lwenty How bright the whole world shone ! The phrase, •• Festina lente," Graced not my lexicon. 'Twas then the muse I'd lasso — My captive could not stray — And with the soul of Tasso Send forth my roundelay. Alas ! those visions rosy No longer glad my view, For now I'm dull and prosy And bald at forty-two. A wife, six kids — acuter The pang grows every day; For I'm a poor commuter From Hackensack. N. J. El'GENH GEARY. ^?" 'O THE PREMIER'S SMILE. Clakf.nce— "Ah, Mademoiselle Shakalegge smiled upon me most divinely to-night, you know. Jack Bowttown — "Quite likely. She has children of her own." AN OCEAN VOYAGE. " Mr. Clerman," she said softly and tenderly to the assistant rector, " I have a very particular favor to ask." " I shall be happy to grant it if I can," he replied. "On Tuesday next I would like — if you will— for you to say a special prayer — the prayer for those who are on the sea." " Certainly, Miss Richly ; and to what foreign port do you sai " ' am going to Staten Island. A BREAKFAST EPISODE. TH E table was set with daintiest care. And the buckwheat cakes- were light ; Yet the mistress's face had a look of pain When she took the very first bite. "These cakes," she cried, "have a soapy taste. Oh, Bridget ! what have you done?" " Shure, mum, th' soap- shtone griddle is lost. So Oi soaped th' other one." THE FAMILY RECORD. Bessie{aged five) — "I'vt got two grandmas — Grandma Vance and Grandma Curr." Lucj' (whose mother has been married twice) — "That's nothing. I've got three — Grandma Cook, Grandma Brown and Grandma Lawrence." Bessie — " Why, that ain't so. You can't have more than two- grandmas." Luey (drawing herself up proudly) — "Yes, 'tis; we've beeti married twice." LITERARY TERM. A "pen" picture. ANOTHER CASE OF RETRIBUTION. This is the punishment due the musical genius who on earth bad the room next to you, and practised thirteen hours a day. ^ - w THE BUSY BUMBLE-BEE AND THE GUZZLING GOSLING. A guzzling gosling observes a busy bumble-bee .-■'J !fPfflti''«i,iiiifi(!i 3- - But the busy bumble-bee obiects. and then returns to business again, leaving the gosling It Interfered. 44 UOW did Bluster happen to let all his business get ' ' away from him ?" asks the sympathetic friend. •' Oh," explains the hard-headed acquaintance, " he got so busy writing articles on ' how to succeed ' that he didn't have time to look after his own affairs." yf^ 2. iind tries to put him out of business. S{\. YiT^ -gets extremely busy with the gosling- L../''^>D -a sadder but wiser bird. Quashing an Alibi. Defense advocate — •■ Sir, the officer charged with be- ing intoxicated while on duty is above the breath of sus- picion." Police commissioner — " Sir, your statement is ill-timed ; the accused is even at this moment munching cloves." 1 His Title. T WAS the twenty-second of February, and Aguinaldo sat wrapped in thought. " They call me a modern Washington," he mused, and it is ceftainly true ; for"— he glanced at his map— I get farther off my country every day." "THE Light Brigade was making its famous charge. "This is bully!" exclaimed the soldiers as they rushed smilingly to death. " Seems like the good old col- lege-football days." With a final ' ' Rah, 'rah, 'rah !" they gave as close an imitation as possible of the real thing. ^y/ Grounds for divorce By DWIGHT spencer ANDERSON HE blew into my law-office like a cyclone out of the north- west. " I am Mrs. Tivvers,"she said, and shook her curls. Those curls may have been forty years old, or only twenty, depending on where she bought them. Mrs. Tivvers took a chair and, deftly patting her side- combs once or twice, cleared her throat. " I want a di- vorce," she said. Then she folded her arms and looked at me in triumph. " Please state the facts briefly," I replied. "Well, sir, I don't mind telling you we never — never got along well. On the very cay of the wedding a feeling came over me that a great mistake had been made. I was well aware there would be trouble and told him so. He said not to worry and everything would come out all right. But what a change came over him after the wed- ding ! I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with these two eyes. And him so soft and nice when he was court- ing, and saying such lovely things about summer skies and moons ! That was a year ago." I glanced at her curls. " A year ago ?" ■'Just. But now everything is different. He never speaks except to order me out ot his way or to swear at me. Oh, I knew it would turn out this way ; I knew it ! No longer ago than this very morning he told me I was so terribly ugly I ought to be afraid to look in a mirror. That's a lie, isn't it ?" " Any feeling of fear," I replied, " is cowardly." " Of course it is. Do you know, the only thing I blame myself for is not having sense enough to put a stop to the whole business at the beginning. Heaven knows there isn't a woman in all the length and breadth of this broad land who's done more for her children than I have. There's John — he's dead, poor soul ! and he died so peace- ful — you just ought to have seen him. I stood that trial well, sir, considering my great loss. And my son, James — ah, he's the joy of my heart ! He has been a good son to me and is now getting his reward. He's a plumber. And he don't drink — not a drop ; not — a — drop !" " The divorce " " Lizzy," she went on contentedly, " Lizzy's my daugh- ter. She lives with us. Of course she don't know I came to see a lawyer. Don't you tell her, will you ?" " No ; I won't." "She thinks I came down town to buy tea; she don't know good tea from bad. A nice girl, 1 can tell you that, but she don't know much. She gets that trait from her father's people, who came of the Johnson stock, and everybody knows what a pack of fools they are." " Mrs. Tivvers," I interrupted somewhat brusquely, " what are the specific grounds for your divorce ?" " Grounds ? Why, he called me a liar and swore at me. What more do you want ?" " That's enough," I replied, " to constitute cruelty under the statutes made and provided. But we might, perhaps, make a stronger point if we could show violence. Has your husband threatened any actual bodily injury ?" " My husband ?" "Yes." " My husband ? ' " Of course." " Didn't I tell you he's been dead these fourteen years ? It's not my husband I want the divorce for. Land sakes ! what made you think that .' It's Lizzy's husband — ■ the worthless rag-picker ! He ain't fit to live. Why,, whenever I try to correct him and show him his faults, and give him the benefit of twenty-eight years of married life and the bringing up of tour children to lead splendid lives — except John, poor soul ! — he tells me to go away- and shut my face ! I'll stand it no longer. I want a divorce." " Mrs. Tivvers," I said gently, "you misapprehend the law." "Sir?" " I wish to convey the idea that divorce proceedings can be brought only by the husband or wife." " You mean Lizzy would have to come down here her- self.?" " Yes," " 'Why, that's the trouble — she won't do it ! Goodness me ! I tried hard enough to get her. But she's just that wrapped up in him she can't see his faults." " Then you had better go back and do the best you: can." " Go back ? Without the divorce ? Me ? Gracious !' Peters ! Sakes ! You don't know Elizabeth Tivvers, or you wouldn't talk that way. I'll have the law on 'em. I'll get a divorce." " Not any," I suggested. " Ha — so you side in with them, do you ? I suppose you're paid to say that — you'd say anything you were paid for — everybody knows what lawyers are. But I'll have the law on 'em, you see. And I'll find out it a respectable woman like me can be insulted by a two-for-a-cent lawyer like you ! There's law in this land somewhere, and I'm going to get it." ^ She marched out of my office with firm tread and in- quired of a man in the hall the way to a police-station. n- The Sainted Grandmother ■ i/HEN I was quite a child '" My moments were beguiled By listening to tales I tliuught were true, Of what, in days gone by. Ere the world was so awry. My wonderful grandmother used to do. She stayed at home, they said, With her needle and her thread, And worked, worked, worked from early mom till night ; She baked and boiled and stewed, Washed and ironed, scrubbed and brewed. And did those things (my ma) considered right. She went to church, of course, Praised the Lord till she was hoarse. And always kept her bible in plani view; She kept the children clean. And she had, I think, tliirteen. And often thought (ma says) these were too few. The order to "obey" Slie considered right, the day When grandmother was married long ago ; And that (ma says) is quite. What slie thinks is, just and right, And well for every girl like me to know. But now that 1 am grown. Spite of ma, I'll have to own. That my grandmother's great virtues do not please ; For the things that she did do I have greatly added to, And some, which ma forgot (of course), are these — She used to chop the wood. Wore an old red-flannel hood. And smoked a corn-cob pipe just like a man : She fed her kids on mush. Spanked them with a shoe or brush, And let her husband call her '• Sary Ann." She used to milk the cows. Pitch the hay down from the mows. And trembled when she asked her •' lord" for pelf; She made his •■pants" and "jeans," Let him boss her ways and means. And wore out all his cast-off clothes herself. Now I say, without restraint. Grandma may have been a saint — A ihing I have not doubted all the while ; But I guess, in spite of ma, You will have to wander far Ere you catch this child acquiring grandma's style H'R.\NA W. SHELDON. Strange Run of Numbers it /^DD how one particular number wiil seem to be con- nected with the fate of some particular person, is it not ?" asked the man with the incandescent whiskers of the man with the underdone nose. " Yes," answered the man with the underdone nose. " Now, there was Finley Marigger, down our way. He was horn on the sixth day of the month, grew to be six feet tall, had six children, and died on the sixth day of the week, worth six million dollars." " Rather strange," said the man with the incandescent whiskers ; " but it isn't a circumstance compared to Ten- nyson Ten Eycke, a fellow I used to know. He was born on the tenth day of the tenth month, in the tenth year .after his parents were married. He was always a tender- hearted boy, and at ten years of age he lost ten fingers and toes altogether by trying to save ten kittens that had been thrown in front of a train of ten cars on the tenth siding in the railway yards at ten-ten a. m. Ten years iater he was married to Tennie Tendall, whose father owned ten business blocks, each ten stories high. They were divorced in ten weeks, and he married a girl named Tenwick, who lived ten miles from TenerifTe. They got room ten at a hotel on their bridal-tour, which began on the tenth day of the month, and the hotel collapsed at ten o'clock at night, and ten hours later they dug them out, and she was dead. He mourned her for ten days only, and was then married to a widow woman by the name of Tengerrow. She eloped with a man named Tennally ten minutes after they were married. It went along that way until Ten Eycke hail married ten wives, and he was per- fectly happy with the tenth." " That certainly is remarkable," observed the man with the underdone nose. "Yes. And in addition to all that Tennyson Ten Eycke was the most tender-hearted man you ever knew, in spite of his misfortunes. Also, he was the champion tennis-player ; but at golf it always took ten strokes for him to put the ball in the hole, and as a usual thing he lost ten balls in every game. He died ten years ago. hav- ing been shot ten times by a man who disputed a debt of ten dollars and ten cents." The man with the underdone nose cast a glance of suspicion at the man with the incandescent whiskers. " And," he mused, " I suppose they buried Ten Eycke in a grave ten feet deep and ten miles from nowhere, and the tender tendrils of ten of the tenderest vines are tenta- tively twining over his ten-year-old tomb." Then the man with the incandescent whiskers ordered some ten-cent cigars, and they smoked for ten minutes. A Failing of History. Freddie — " Why is it said that history can't l)c written until years after the event ? " Cobwigger — " Because, my boy, if it was written at the time it occurred it would probably be true. " Ted — " When she was young she was always running after the men." Ned — "That explains why she never caught one." ■^3 Little Willie — " It must be awful to be an orphan like foa, Jimmy." BY A BACHELOR MAID. There are two things women are supposed to jump at — a mouse and an offer of marriage. Jimmy—" Oh, I don't know !" A LENTEN PSALM. Old Mrs. Lantry Went to a pantry To get her dog something to eat. 'Twas the first day of Lent, No butcher was sent. And so the poor dog had no meat. THE SMALL BOY'S POSER. The grammar class had had " army " to parse, and being of one accord had parsed it as being in the masculine gender. The long-suffering teacher had for fifteei* minutes e.xpended her gray matter in an eloquent and logical statement proving to the juvenile in- tellect that the horses, arms, accoutrements, commissary supplies and other paraphernalia ol an army technically make it neuter gen- der. One budding mind refused to be convinced. ■• Well, Harry ?" " Please, ma'am, do women ever go to war.'" " N-not very of- ten, Harry." "And is ' army ' always neuter gen- der.?" "Yes — grammat- ically considered." " Please, ma'am, what gender is the s alva t ion army?" SINFUL. First drummer — "I've just gotten home from my first trip west, and I tell yoi» Cincinnati is the most wick- ed place I ever struck." Second drummer^ " Yes ; they are thinkiai; about changing its name t* Sinsinnati." -iS"^ t3 Z 5 o -^ - >H ^^5 A HORSELESS WAGON. The long-legged yap from the Jersey high- lands bounced around a corner into Broadway, up from the market re- gions, and landed in front of a serene and majestic policeman. "Ah, there!" ex- claimed the cop, startled by the innovation. " Wow !" snorted the Jerseyman. "What's the matter?" " I've been imposed on by a chap down the street there." " Buncoed .'" " Worse." " What ?" "Feller come up where I was sellin' truck .an' wanted to know ef I wanted to see one o' them horseless wagons, 'cause ef I did I'd better run round on the next street mighty quick. Said it was goin hurry. I liked to run a lung out gittin' you think I seen .'" TRULY GRE.\T. Ethel — " Who was that man you just bowed to?" Penelope — " That was Dobson, the great composer." Ethel — "A composer, did you say?" Peneloi'E — "Yes ; he manufactures soothing-synip." by an' I'd have to there, an' what do IRONY. He engaged passage on this ship because they set such a good table. ■' A horseless wagon, I suppose," responded the officer, with that sublime faith in the straightforwardness of the city man in his relations to his rural brother which always characterizes city men. " Yes, but not the kind I was thinkin' about," said the Jerseyman in deep dis- gust. " It wa'n't nothin' but a wagon with a pair o' mules hitched to it, an' dern pore mules at that." After weeping a few silent tears the policeman sought to comfort the vis- itor from across the river. NOT EXPLICIT. She told me yesterday she'd write, And now I'm filled with gloom. No letter 's come. Alas for me ! She did not say to whom. JUST THE PLACE. Mrs. Yo II ng bride — " Oh, Ferdy ! I believe there's a cinder in my eye." Mr. Younggroom (soothingly) — "Well, dear, your 'Nandy will take it right out when we get to the next tunnel." W i 1 1 EXPLANATORY. Fahey — "Wake er weddin', Kelly ?" Kelly (fain/fy) — " Chrishtenin'." HOW IT HAPPENED. Drummer — " How did it happen that the amateur dra- matic performance, night before last, raised such a large sum of money for charity ?" Squam Corners merchant — " Why, at the end of the first act all the people who had paid fifty cents apiece to get in rose and chipped in another dollar apiece to have the performance stop then and there." A RULE FOR THE SUBURBANITE. As you discover the defects in your new house don't swear at the contractor. He's got the laugh as well as the money, and you'd just as well be cheerful too. A CASE OF ABSENT- MINDEDNESS. Mr. Montgomer)' was making his way across the floor of a small ball-room which he had just entered. The room was comfortably filled with scions of old families who were enjoying a private hop. Mr. Mont- gomer)' was attract- ing considerable at- tention, and he was aware of this fact. The trouble was that he could not account for it. He was a child of a noble race himself, and at no time in his life did his inborn dignity shine more conspicuously than now. He had passed the early part of the evening with convivial friends, but he did not connect this fact in any way with the interest that was being shown in his promenaae. Others did, for the truth was that, the night being stormy, Mr. Montgomery had raised his umbrella previous to his entrance, and was still holding this useful article over his head, apparently with the idea that its removal would be the ruin of his dress-suit. QUITE NATURAL. Mrs. McFeegan — " Shure Moike, yez black oye do be turnin' grane." Mr. McFeegan — "An' whoy wudn't it ? Oi got it from an Oirishmon on Saint Patrick's day." There is only one path which leads to the house of for- giveness — that of understanding. A HANDICAP. First mute — " Why didn't you answer me yesterday when I spoke to you from across the street ?" Second mute — " I couldn't. You had passed by before I could get my mittens off to speak to you." TRAINING. Amicus — " Why have you fastened those iron blocks to your feet ?" Mr. C. O. Muter — "lam practicing the suburban resident's e.Tercise. It is intended to develop the muscles of the legs so that one can walk about in Jersey without getting stuck in the mud." zv7 placed the necktie knot from un- der his left ear and pushed his collar down, '• Madam, you are mistaken. I have never been a duke in Osh- kosh. I live here at the junc- tion." The woman looked at him as though she doubted his statement, but let liim go. He proceeded to the next seat, where a serious-looking man rose up and bowed ; the pop-corn man also bowed and smiled as though he had met him before. Taking a paper of pop-corn and putting it in his coat-tail pocket, the serious man said, " I was honestly elected presi- dent of the United States in 1876, but was counted out by tlje vilest conspiracy that everwas concocted on the earth, and I believe you are one of the conspirators," and he spit on his hands and looked the pop-corn man in the eye. The pop- corn man said he never took any active part in politics, and had nothing to do with tliat Hayes busi- ness at all. Then the serious man sat down and began eating pop- corn, while two women on the other side of the car also helped themselves to the contents of the basket. The pop-corn man held out his hand for the money, when a man two seats back came forward and shook hands with him, saying, " They told me that you would not come, but you have noticed the fine old gentlenian who comes into the car come, Daniel, and now we will fight it out. I will take with a large, square basket, peddling pop-corn. He is one <»t the most innocent and confiding men in the whole world. He is honest and he believes that everybody else is honest. He came up to the depot with his basket, and seeing the train, he asked Pierce, the landlord there, what train it was. Pierce, who is a most diabolical person, told the old gentleman that it was a load of members of the legisla- ture and female lobbyists going to Madison. The pop- corn man believed the story, and went into the car to sell pop-corn. Stopping at the first seat, where a middle-aged lady was sitting alone, the pop-corn man passed out his basket that crowd was going to the legislature. WIIV DOES A HEX, ETC. ? Si — "Say. Clem, what 's this ol' joke about a hen crossiii' the road? Why does she?" Clem — "Well, fust, because slie wants to get on the other side. Second, because she don't want to stay on the side slie 's on any longer, and lastly, because you 're after her for a mess o' pot-pie." A Lively Train-load. I AST week a train-load of insane persons was re- moved from the Oshkosh asylum to the Madison asylum. As the train was standing on the side track at Watertown junction it created consitlerable curiosity. People who have ever passed Watertown junction h,ive this razor and you can arm yourself at your leisure." The man reached into an inside pocket of his coat, evidently lor a razor, when the pop-corn man started for the door, his eyes sticking out two inches. Every person he passed took a paper of pop-corn ; one man grabbed his coat and tore one tail off, another took his basket away, and as he rushed out on the platform the basket was thrown at his head, and a female voice said, " I will be ready when the carriage calls at eight." As the old gentleman struck the platform and began to arrange his toilet he met Fitzgerald, the conductor, who asked him what was the matter. He said Pierce told him and said, " Fresh pop-corn !" The lady took her foot down off the stove, looked at the man a moment with eyes glaring and wild, and said, " It is— no, it catmot be — and yet it is me long-lost duke of Oshkosh," and she grabbed the old man by the necktie with one hand and pulled him down into the seat, and began to mow pop-corn into her mouth. " But," says he, as he picked some pieces of paper collar out of the back of his neck, " if those people are not delegates to a Democratic convention, then I have been peddling pop-corn on this road ten years for nothing, and don't know my business." Fitz toltl him they were patients going to the insane- asylum. The old man thought it over a moment, and then he The pop-corn man blushed, looked at the rest of the picked up a coupling-pin and went looking for Pierce. Dassengers to see if tiiey were looking, and said, as he re- Jambs H. Kirk, Hustontown, Pennsylvania. '^ ' A Philadelphia Ghost By William J. Lampton T WAS a girl who was talking. When a girl talks she sojiietimes says things, and she sometimes does not. The heroine of this small chroni- cle was saying something. It had goose-flesh bumplets all over it, and made the trembling listener feel the snivers down his spine and gave him the nervous vvriggies. It was in the way she told it, and cannot be transferred successfully to type. As far as may be interpreted, her story ran in this wise : " Oh, girls !" she said breath- lessly, " you know Philadelphia, and how staid and demure it is ? You never would think of seeing a ghost there, would you ?" " If we did," ventured one of the maidens, " it would wear a drab suit and a poke bonnet. Wouldn't that be the funniest ghost that ever walked ?" A young actress, a few weeks on the road and home again, sighed. " But this one wasn't," continued the narrator. " How- ever, let me go on with my story. It was in December and at a house in one ot the beautiful by-towns ot the Quaker City, though part of it, and there was a houic-party of us. We were ten in all, and the second evening the eleventh came in the person of a tall, gangling Herr Professor, only long enough in this country to try to speak English and wonder why polite people smiled and the other kind laughed right out. The weather had been delightful for a week before our coming, and it was very pleasant, as early December often is, up to the day after the prolessor came." " Were you camping in the street ?" inquired a precise young woman who seemed to have lost a cog from the continuity of the story. "Of course not," twittered the fair raconteuse. "I became so iaterested in my theme that 1 forgot the links of it. We had our house-party in a house, and it was one of those quaint old houses that have funny little windows, a big brass knocker on the front door, and — a ghost chamber. If there is anything that is absolutely necessary in a house like that to complete its character it is a ghost chamber. This one was complete, and I had the ghost chamljer. It was my choice, too; for, if 'there is one thing more than another that I was utterly destitute of, it was a belief in ghosts. A mouse could play more havoc with my nervous system in a minute than all the ghosts could in weeks and weeks. 1 never would have gone into that room if I had been told th.it it was the uncanny custom of a mouse to wander there through the night watches and address itself to any intruder who dared to pass the night near its haunts. But a ghost was different. I defied ghosts,, great and small. This chamber was in a wing of the house some distance from the rooms occupied by the others of the party, w'hich made it more interesting." Three girls simultaneously shuddered and murmured,. "Ugh!" " When the Herr Professor came there wasn't any place for him except up stairs over the wing in a little room at the end of the hall, and the way to get there passed my door. But of course the professor didn't know this. He knew he had to pass a door, but he didn't know whose it was. Indeed, he didn't know it was anybody's, because when he came the door was open as if the room were unoccupied, for I was off for that night and a day with some cousins in town. The servants always left the room open, so as to give the ghostly haunt a thorough airing — as if ghosts cared about ventilation. I did not re- turn until nine o'clock in the evening, and just as I came in the whole crowd was laughing over the Herr Professor and the odd kind of a man he was. As for him, he had retired to his room in the wing to rest. We had a jolly time until eleven o'clock, and though the girls tried to coax me to stay with them, I insisted on going in with the ghosts. They tried to frighten me as I went along the hall, but I was brave and reached my room safely. There nothing disturbed me, of course. Nothing ever does when one is good and brave, I thought, and I went to sleep without so much as locking my door. •• Now comes the queer part of my story " — several of the listeners showed signs ot being glad a climax was in sight. " It must have been two o'clock in the morning when 1 was awakened by the wind blowing, and I felt that it had grown very much colder. It was so cold, in fact, that I was compelled to get up and take out an extra blanket which had been provided for just such a change, for one never knows what is June and what December in this climate. As far as ghosts were concerned, I never thought of them. The cold floor I had to walk on to the closet where the blanket was gave me more trouble. That is, I didn't think of ghosts at first, but ghosts are peculiar, so I had been told, and this particular one was no exception. When I jumped back into the warm place in bed and cuddled up under the extra blanket, I hadn't more than begun to enjoy it when I heard a strange noise. It was as soft as a velvet footfall and came from I knew not where. As the wind blew in fiercer blasts I would lose the sound, but it came again with the lull and seemed to fill the whole room. A little light came through the windows from a pale and sickly moon, and I could see faintly, but it revealed nothing. The presence was audi- ble, not visible. Finally the sound stopped at my door, and then for the first time I became nervous, and in aa instant frightened. I shivered under the blanket which ^^ had been so nice and warm a minute before, and, not knowing what else to do, I sat up in bed and stared at the door, which I knew was not locked. I could barely make it out, lor what light came in was from the windows on my side of the room, and I was in the dark. A great blast of wind shook the house and just at that moment the door began to open slowly. " There is nothing, I think, quite so disturbing to one's nerves as to see a door coming open slowly when you ■don't know what makes it do it. I don't know why I didn't think it was a burglar, but I didn't. I knew there were such things as burglars, and I was quite as certain there were no ghosts, l)ut I thought now only of ghosts. But I was not allowed to think long about anything. The door swung wide, and there, gray and grim and fearful in the shadows, stood a figure all in misty white, as high as the door, it seemed to me, and peering curiously into the room. What else could it do but gaze in the direction of the intruder on its sacred domains, and what else would it do but follow its stony stare ? The thought of it nearly deprived me of what little sense I had left, but enough remained to prompt me to hide myself, if possible, and I sank quietly back among the pillows and waited for the dreadful thing to do its worst. Goodness knows why I didn't faint, but I didn't. I tried to scream, but, like a nightmare, it took away all power, and I lay shivering and still. In the meantime the shape had been coming nearer, and I began to think I could feel its cold breath on my face as I lay there unable to turn away from it. At last it came to the foot of the bed, where it stopped ami lifted its hands, as ghosts do, as if groping for something beyond its reach. Then suddenly it caught the covering on the bed, and with a sudden swish of it I was left with only a sheet over me, and the ghostly visitant stalked silently out of the room as mysteriously as it had come. " By this time I was frightened almost into spasms, but I did not want to alarm the house, and especially my hostess, who was dreadfully nervous. So, after freezing for some time, I was brought sufficiently back to the phys- ical world to realize that I would catch pneumonia where I was, and I mustered up courage enough to get out ot bed and light my lamp. I was afraid to go into the hall, but I wasn't afraid to lock the door and slide all the mov- able furniture against it, which I did. Then I built up a roaring fire in the big old-fashioned grate, and having put on all the clothing I could find, and wrapping myself in all the rugs in the room, I curled up on the sofa and felt more comfortable. Light and warmth have a very bene- ficial effect on ghost-shaken systems. The ghost, though, was not explained away, and I was wondering how I was going to tell the hostess in the morning, or whether I should tell her at all, or not. Thinking it all over I went to sleep in my rugs, and when 1 opened my eyes again it was broad day and the maid was knocking at my door. I let her in through the barricade'as best I could and told her nothing, though I could see she was very curious and every now and then looked over her shoulder nervously, as if she expected to see something that would not be pleasant to the sight. I explained to her that the lock would not hold and that the wind was so strong the door came open during the night until I barricaded it. That was true enough, too, for it did come open. " When I went down to breakfast my appearance called forth all kinds of queries, and there were repeated questions as to whether or not the ghost had visited me. If not, whatever could be the matter, they insisted. 1 know I looked a sight, as they say in the rural districts, and I think I must have felt as I have heard young fellows say they did the morning after, but I evaded direct expla- nations as best I could. The persecution stopped only when the Herr Professor came down and we all went into the breakfast-room. Then the conversation turned upon the sudden change in the weather during the night, and our hostess was very solicitous about the comfort of her guests. The girls were secondary to the Herr Professor, however, and before any of us could say anything, the hostess directed her inquiries to him. He smiled effusively and bowed low over his plate. He talked and made a dozen protestations a minute that he had slept delightfully. I don't know what he didn't say, and 1 wouldn't, for the world, try to say it as he did ; but out of it all I gathered the startling information that when he first awoke he was very, very cold, but he remembered the room below was unoccupied, and he had noticed that there was plenty ot cover on the bed there, and when he was fully awake he had slipped down stairs in his nightie as quiet as a very little mouse, so as to disturb no one, and had taken the covers off and carried them to his own room, where he found them ample for his most delightful and refreshing sleep in the elegant mansion of his most charming hostess. " There was a lot more of the same Ollendorff method of telling a thing," concluded the girl, " but I didn't want to hear a word of it. And I didn't tell a soul in that house-party a single thing about ghosts, either, until the Herr Professor was a thousand miles away and the rest of us were separating to go to our homes. The horrid w-retch ! and why I didn't think of him first, for the life ot me I can't understand, unless there is a ghost really there and I was under its baneful influence. Ugh !" " Ugh !" echoed all the others, but it wasn't very weird. Fame Is Up to Date. CAME lures us on with beckoning hand, but we affect to spurn the invitation. " Come," Fame pleads. " Life for you shall be made joyous. You shall have a bed of roses." Still we demur. At this Fame becomes practical. " Look here," Fame says ; " take that bed of roses and sleep on it thirty nights. If you don't say that it is the best bed you ever had I'll pay the return freight on it." After that there was nothing for us to do but to hike along the path of glory, was there ? Why She Wept. H OUT, my dear," protests the young husband, " you B have paid fifty-six dollars for this Easter bon- net, when I asked you not to exceed twenty-five." " Yes, love," she explains ; " but, don't you see, the fifty-six-dollar one was marked down from seventy-two, and the twenty-five-dollar ones were only marked down from thirty. I saved sixteen dollars instead of only five. You — you ought to commend me instead of — boo-hoo ! — of — of scolding me." ^ A GENUINE SURPRISE. n" BITTER BLASTS. IDWINTER— br-r-r-th biting blast ! Old Boreas shows his hand at last — A flush of spades drawn from cold deck, A case of freeze-out in the neck. His mild appearance is a frost, He hugs the hobo tempest-tossed. Alas ! poor men, we have our troubles. When he blows round — get out your shovels And Klondike forth in wintry rig And, saying little. Simply dig The silent snowdrop fallen down Upon your portion of the town; And cleaning that hold not aloof, There's more to juggle on your roof ; And finished that — you've yet more woes. You e'en must dig a path for clothes, For wifey says, in her sweet way, It must be made — it's washing day. And adding, with most fiendish smirk. How much she loves to see you work. Your answer — wc must not comment Till snow again, you may repent. •^ I Klondiker — "Hallo! There's the smallest tent I've seen in the diggin's. As it seems to be inhabited 1 guess I'll knock HER REASON. " Yes," said the widow; "I shall paint the house yellow for dear George's sake. He liked the color, and — and you know he died of liver trouble." AN ANOMALY. Love is the most peculiar thing You ever heard about. For often when you've fallen in You very soon fall out. fe and see who owns the fire in there. JUST LIKE A MAN. " Oh, Clarence ! " ex- claimed Mrs. McBride as her brother entered the house. " baby's cut a tooth." " Why do you let her play with Icnives .'" asked the unimpressed bache- lor brother. SUFFICIENT REA- SON. Bobby — " If God sends babies round why didn't mamma pick out a pret- tier one ?" Paul — " 'Cause I s'pose she knew beggars shouldn't be choosers." PERPLEXITY. Where can a man get shingles for the roof of his mouth } How can you dam a creek in your back ? Where can a man get a key to fit a lock of his hair.' Or a strap for the drutm of his ear.' How do they build the bridge of the nose } What jewels do you wear in the crown of your head .'' How deep is the pit of your stomach ? Where can a man buy a cap for his knee } How can you sharpen the blade of your shoulder, or take a tip ot the finger, or tell a crook of the elbow, or catch the sole of your foot ? SUPERLATIVE ADVERSITY, MiNliR — " Oh, dear ; if I eat the candle I'll freeae to death. If I don't eat it I'll starve to death," Phwat is th' politic- kle sitivation, is it ? It's phwat we're all afther, me b'y. III. The occupant of the tent { haf too roooch gabacity. You gant vork me fer no chump some more alretty." 'T > • » o 50 > P3 2 ^ Z s —a s ° s ffl -J T3 S 2 S 1 I I 7 3 -S; P (Ti Cfl O P Q &J — 2 o WHAT LITTLE FREDDY SAID. JF I were a fish I would wiser be, I'd live in the ground instead of the sea ; Then I needn't look When a bite I took, But have plenty of worms without any hook. A BELLAMY DUEL. Oldest inhabitant — " I sup- pose it was the same old story — not a drop of blood shed on either side." Constant reader — " Oh, yes, there was. The crowd lynched them both." A GREAT HELP. " Throw me a rope, quick ! I'm drowning !" Pat—" All roight, I'll HIS IDEA OF IT. Vivian, aged four, going to church with a friend, had had his first glimpse of episcopacy and its forms that morning. "Well, darling, how did you like it.'" inquired his mother. " Oh, it was niceth !" (His most rapturous lorm of expression.) " What did they do, dear.'" ■" Oh — a — um — first the man stood up and talked a long time to God, and — a — um — then all the little boysh wif white sings on them stood up and said — ' Aw-w-there I' " JUDGMENT FROM MR. McGARVEY. It's only wan thrue frind Oi hov in all th' woide wurld, an' his name 's Dinnis McGar\'ev. Whin a crank's talkin' poli- tics t' yez 'tis th' bist way t' hear nothin' ye 're listenin' to. -throw yez it A FAMILIAR FEELING. Knocked-out pugilist (fainlh) — " Wuz me wife in de gallery? Are yer sure ?" Bottle-holder — "Yes ; why ?" Knocked-out pugilist — " Are yer sure dat it wuzn-t her dat wuz in de ring wid me ?" RUNNING NO RISKS. Boy {undressing) — "Ain't yer a- goin' ter take yer clothes off afore yer go in ?" Boy {dressed) — "Wot! an' git 'em. stole?" AN EVIDENCE. Triwet — " Miss Tenspot takes a great interest in politics." Dicer — " Does she .'" Tri^met — " She has had her new shirt-waist trimmed with campaign buttons." A LOST BOTTLE. Lost — A satchel containing the manuscript of a book on temper- ance, a promissory note for one hundred dollars, and a small flask. If the finder will return the flask, with its contents, he may keep the other articles for his trouble. ^9? 'S. U =i m 3 o c -V n o 73 First Come, First Served; Or, the Woes of By L. H. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Mr. Whittier J. Nippy. Mrs. Whittier J. Nippy (his wife). Salesgirls. Lady-shoppers (real ladies, mind you). ACT I. (The Nippy Home. Morning.) Mrs. Nippy — " Dear, I'll have to ask you to do a little shopping for me to-day. I want a spool of darning-cotton, a pound of salted almonds, a dozen pairs of shoe-laces, a box of tacks and a yard of oilcloth. I don't liUe to trouble you, dear, but " Air. Nippy — " No trouble at all, love. Give me the list." ACT II. • (Thread-counter in Anybody's department-store.) Salesgirl — " What is it, sir ?" Mr. Nippy — " I want a spool of dar " (Enter a haughty lady-shopper.) Lady-shopper — " See here, girl ; show me something to match this silk." Salesgirl — " A spool of what, sir ?" Mr. Nippy — " Of darning-cotton." Salesgirl — " What color, please ?" Lady-shopper — "Are you going to wait on me, or shall I call somebody that will?" Mr. Nippy — " I don't know ; my wife didn't tell me ; black, I guess." Lady-shopper — " I shall summon the floor-walker. Do yeu hear ?" Salesgirl — " Would you mind waiting a moment, sir ?" Mr. Nippy — " Go ahead and attend to her ; I'll be back in a minute." a Man-shopper Robbins ACT III. (Candy-counter). Salesgirl — " Did you wish something, sir?" Mr. Nippy — "Yes; a pound of" (Enter a stout lady-shopper.) Lady-shopper — ■' How much discount do you give on goods for the Female Inebriate Asylum ?' Salesgirl — " What was it, sir ?" Mr. Nippy — •• A p'ound of salted almonds." Lady-shopper — " I say, how much discount do you " Salesgirl — " One moment, madam. [To Mr. Nippy.) Two pounds, did you say ?" J/r. Nippy — " One pound only, please." Lady-shopper — " Is there some one in this department that can answer questions ?" Salesgirl — " Will I put them -.i a box, sir ?" Mr. Nippy — " If you don't m nd ; yes." Lady-shopper — " Young wo nan, do you know -who 1 am f" Salesgirl (crushed) — " What is it, madam ?" ACTS IV-XI. (Cut out by the editor.) ACT XII. (The Nippy home. Evening.) Mrs. Nippy — " Why are you so late, dear ? And you look dreadfully ill !" Mr. Nippy — " You ought to know why I" Mrs. Nippy — " Haven't you brought the things ?" Mr. Nippy — " No !" (Both burst into tears.) (Curtain.) Mr. Plymwi By A. ck's Charity C. Davis ■RTTR. PLYMWICK, one of the richest men in town, was also ostentatiously religious and charitable. Being hurriedly called away from home one day, and happening ■ot \o have any money with him, he asked the loan of ten dollars from Mr. Brown, also very wealthy, but not re- markable for either charity or piety. When Mr. ^Plymwick took out the money to use he found there were two ten-dollar bills, so closely stuck to- gether as really to look like one. On his return home he told Mr. Brown about the two bills, and as he handed him one he said, " Now, Mr. Brown, do a charitable deed for once in your life and look to heaven for your reward. You give half of this other ten to the heathen, and I'll give the other half!" " All right ! Have it your own way !" replied Brown, who was very busy. That night about midnight he suddenly rose ¥p in bed with a vigorous exclamation. " What's the matter ?" cried his wife, in alarm, think- ing he was having a fit. "Of all the double blanked, idiotic, liver-brained dum- mies I ever heard of, I'm the three times double blankedest." And he told her the story of his business transaction with his neighbor. Then she lay down and laughed and laughed and laughed till her husband threatened to choke her or stuff a pillow down her throat. " Can't you see," he angrily asked, " that all of that ten- dollar bill old Plym was so generous with was mine ?" "Of course I can, ' she answered, as soon as she could catch her breath. " And although I don'i generally aj^ prove of swearing, I am laughing to think how- accurately you describe yourself." ^f A STINGING BLOW. I. Mr. Hunter — " My, but this is a find ! As the wasps II. Pokkh-ton (six rnonlhs /ater) — " Fine old garret, this of are evidently deadl'll take it and hang it up in my garret for city Hunter's. As he has given me the freedom of the house I'll com- .—.„ . A > mence by taking a few rounds out of his punching-bag. A DEDUC- TION. "Oh.say.Mame!* Maud exclaimed. "What's the matter?" asked Mame. "While I was improving my mind this morning I found out some- thing you never would have be- lieved." " What is it ?" " You know the pilgrim fathers ?" "Of course; everybody knows them." " They belonged to a bicycle club." "How do you know ?" • "By t n e i r clothes." A DIVINITY IN DANGER. The governess—" Ah, lady .' I don't know what's come over Lionel. Th" little hangel 's gota hinsmM nta to play with boys an' hact like 'em, mum— regularly hact like 'em." HIS IDEAL SITUATION. Mrs. Feedem — '-What kind of situations are you looking for?" Tramp — "Well, some sech delicate situations as we find in a problem-play, mum !" A Marine Memory. T SHIPPED an awlul bad crew one time, although they tried hard to do their work and was very well-behaved. Thinks I to myself, these chaps ain't sailors — they've chosen the wrong road in life. Mebbe there is among 'em them that could 'a' been great as, for instance, writers. I had bought four new novels to read durin' the v'yage. I read 'em. Then, thinks I, the fellers tiiat I ought to got to sail my ship are them that wrote these books, whether the men I have got to sail it are the men that ought to wrote these books or not. An Aggravation. Mr. Lendthings (of Swamp- hurst) — " What are you sighmg about ?" Mrs. Lendthings (gloomily) — " I was just thinking what a lot of beautiful premiimis I could get if the intelligence offices u ould only give trading-stamps I" An Affront. (( TX return for your courtesy in asking me to lunch with you," said the magnate, dip- ping his fingers into the hnger-bowl, " I am going to give you a tip." Honest Herbert, the struggling young man who was seeking to gain the favor of the great magnate, drew himself up indignantly. " Give the tip to the waiter, sir," he replied. Nothing New There. Eastt-riu-r — "Yes, the latest thing in transpor- tation is the single-rail railroad. It is brand new, you know." Alkali Ike—" Huh ! Mebbe it is in your country, stranger, but it's been a poplar meth- od uv transportin" unde- sirable people outer Red Dog fer a good many years." >,.^^ CPURS do not give a horse speed ; they merely make him use what speed is in him. Her A REMINDER. ■ The HOISE-MAID— "There '11 be grand doin's over to Mrs. Cashley's nixt wake, eldest daughther is comin' out." The COOK— "Faith! thot remoinds me. Casey's son ought to be comm' out soon. He's bin in over a year. " WHAR did I play? It less con learn to sing an' JUST COMES NATURAL. : jess comes natural. Like de bright blue wing on de old blue- jay. It jess comes natural. Like de green on de trees an' de blush on de rose ; Like de pain in your back or de hole in your clo'es , Like de hard times dat foUer wharever I goes. It jess comes natural. 2. No, I took no lesson in all mah life •, It jess comes natural. Like de screech-owl's hoot or a man's first wife, It jess comes natural. Like de gold on de wheat when it's in de sheaf ; Like Colonel Bob's religious belief ; Like de consequences ob embalmed beef, It jess comes natural. 3. No, I nevah took no lesson at all, at all { It jess comes natural. Like de fight at de finish ob a Darktown ball, It jess comes natural. Like de morning dew on de cobweb's lace ; Like de pearl in de oyster's dress-suit case ; Like de rainbow's hue or de wart on your face, It jess comes natural. GOING TO THE OPERA " Do you believe the story that Maud goes to the opera just to show her bonnets ?'' "No; Maud isn't so foolish as that. Sometimes she goes to see the other girls' bonnets." AS USUAL. " Are you giv- ing up much this Lent?" asked one Chicago woman TAKEN FOR GRANTED, of another. Miss Oldmavde — "Jack "Myhusband," Busteed made me a marriage- r^nlipd the latter Proposal last night." replied the latter Miss Pert— "When does I. Toothache Brown — "Well, I'm blowed ! I thought when I got that string tied around that confounded aching tooth I'd have nerve enough to pull it." simply. the marriage take place ?" HIS EXISTENCE WAS A DREADFUL BORE. XL Urchin {who couldn'" allow such ajolden opportunity to slip) — " Shine, boss ?'* The Man Who Has Just Moved By Alex. Morrow HEN you have decided to move," said the man who has moved fourteen times in twelve years, " the first thing you ought to do is to talk it over with your wife and decide not to. If your rent is loo high go to your landlord and engage him in conversation, and gradually rou^e his better nature. Then if he wont come down make him paper the parlor new and paint the kitchen. It takes tact to handle a landlord. If he tells you he is in hard luck and needs a little money to buy cough syrup for the twins and that he wishes you would pony up, tell him about some of your troubles and be sociable with him. That will touch the landlord and you can do most anything with him. •• But if you do move, move quick," said the man who has moved lourteen times in twelve jears. "No use dragging it out over weeks. When I move I spring it at the breakfast-table some morning, and by night we are in our new home. I have got a regular case of movomania, I'll admit, but I hope 1 am getting over it. We have moved for every reason you can think of and tor no reason. Once we moved because the landlord wouldn't give us another latch-key — got sort o' riled, you know, and skipped out. Cost me forty dollars, and a latch-key would have cost a quarter, but it was the principle of the thing, you see. another time we lit out becauSe we could get a house one dollar a month cheaper. Only cost fifty dollars to get fixed up again, so you see we saved tliirty-eight dollars a year, if you can spit on your hands, turn a dou- ble somersault and figure it before you hit the ground. •• Moving has its drawbacks, I'll admit. When you look around your house and fondly gaze on your snug quarters and nicely-arranged bric-a-brac, you think you are sonr.e. You feel that you are a whole lot o' much. But wait until you see your lares et penates proceed- ing up the street astride of a dray ! Wait until your tall bedstead kicks up its foot in the pulilic eye. Look at your piano bunking with your old wash-tub of the vintage of '72. Consider that buxom feather-tick no longer clothed in the seemly garb of its daily station in life, but sprawled out on vour sewing-niMchine and playing peek-a-boo with a dish-pan full of tomato-cans. Wouldn't that curl your chin-whiskers ? " Many a family has blushed for shame at the sight of their establishment ihus exposed to the rude gaze of the great scoffing world. Little wots the outsider that your best things are packed away in those chests of drawers and those wads of burl.-.p. " Moving brings many old things to light and opens up many a closed chapter of secret history. There's a bunch ot olcl letters you have wept over. Here's the old suit that was once the apple of your eye, and that took^o long to pay for. That old hat your wife wore when you used to hold her hand of June nights and thrill a thrill or two, and wonder what was the matter with you. The lit- tle shoe your first baby wore ; ditto your second baby wore ; ditto third ditto ; ditto fourth ditto. Then you get hot under the collar about something, and your wife sud- denly confronts you with the first letter you wrote to her after you were engaged. It takes a woman to be right- down mean. No man would do a thing like that because his better half was giving him Jesse. " My wife stole a march on me this time and moved without my knowing anything about it. You see, I was out of town a few days, and she has got so used to moving when she sees other folks on the move that she just could- n't stand it. When I got home I went up to the place and let myself in. The house seemed rather hollow like, and I didn't know what to make of it. I went out and inquired of the neighbors if they had seen anything of a strayed family, and they said yes ; they had seen three van-loads of a family go out of the street the day before, and they gave me the general direction in which the outfit was headed, and I started out, like a farmer hunting a swarm of bees, to find my household. I ran them down along toward ten o'clock in the evening and found that the letter apprising me of the migration had never been mailed. I tell you that wife of mine certainly had me guessing for a while. When you see a lone man walking along a street, asking people to please tell him where ne lives, you have your own idea what's the matter with him, don't you ? Well, you see how I was fixed. " But, as I said before, when you get all ready to move, don't. Cut it out. Forget it. I hav^ moved fourteen times in twelve years, and I ought to know." He Stood a Poor Show. TWO Irishmen were walking down the railroad track. ' They heard a whistle and looked back, to discover the train coming, and there was but a few seconds for them to make their escape. Pat ran up the bank and called to his friend Mike (who was a recent arrival from the old country) to follow. But Mike took to his heels and started down the track on a dead run. He was overtaken, however, and tossed over into an open field. Pat came over to where his friend was and said, "Mike, why didn't you run up the bank as I t-old you to do ?" " Well, begorra," said Mike, " if I couldn't keep ahead of that thing on the level, what show would I have had running up a bank ? " Mrs. W. B. Booth, Louis%nlle, Kenlucky. Where Ignorance Is Bliss. A RAW Swede girl went to the post-office one day and •^ asked the clerk at the window, " Is theie a letter here for me ? " " And what's the name, please ?" said the clerk. The girl replied, " That be all right, sir ; the name be on the letter." Mrs. W. B. Booth. LouBville. Kenlnckj. 3o^ SEASIDE REPARTEE. Miss Woodby de Heiress — "How d'ye do, count? I'm glad yen were able to get away from those horrid dry goods again this season . " Count Rebon Countaire — " Thanks, awfully, my dear Miss de Heiress. It also gives me great pleasure to note that close application to your sewing hasn't affected the brightness of your eyes in the least." DECISION HANDED DO'WN. The loss of sleep is partly compensated by the joy of swearing at yeur neighbor's dog. A CRUEL WORLD. Weary Willie — "Yes. poor old Slobsy lost heart completely an' committed suicide, couldn't Stan' dis cruel, heartless world no longer." Flowery Fields—" Everybody against him, I suppose?" Wfary Willie — "Yes ; everywhere he went folks wuz offerin' him jobs." He GOOD BETTING. " I bet you dare not go OTer and speak to that girl." " No ; you bet I won't. That's my wife, and I've just had a quarrel with her." A SUBSTITUTE. Tommy went to dine with his uncle. " Did you ask a Messing, dear ?" asks pious rnamma. " No, mamma ; not ex- actly. But Uncle Dick said ' Blast the cook !' when we- sat down." HIS ARTISTIC LIFE. Art professor (to pupil minus talent) — " You have tried charcoal, water-colors and oil without success, and your attempts at landscapes and casts are a failure. What can you draw .'" Unabashed pupil — " M" breath, sir." y' NATURAL DEDUCTION. BY STROKE of childish enter- prise They grabbed the old hen's legs And made her eat assorted dyes To produce Easter- ABSENT-MIND- EDNESS, Miss Gatnbrel — "Isn't it funny? Lucy and I are al- ways forgetting our ages." Visitor — " You ought to put them down." Miss Gambrel (absent-mindedly) — " Yes ; we did cut them down several times, and probably that's the reason we are growing so forgetful." LENT AT DAW- SON CITY. " How shall I cook the boot-leg to-day, Mike?" said one Klondiker to another. "This is Lent, Dan," replied the lat- ter. " \Ve must now give up lu.xuries. We'll have frapp^d snowballs for break- fast and icicles au nature! for dinner." COMING IN SEASON. Go fetch your last year's safety out ; Clean and pump your tire, And the man who makes the longest run Will be the biggest liar. Cherupim and seraphim and all the glorious company of heaven are nor to be compared to the man who for the hrst time wears a silk hat. THEY LOOKED ALIKE TO HIM. Hotel-clerk — ' ' What's that noise ? What did ye throw that bureau down for ?" Mr. Gasblower — " I — I thought it was the folding- bed." SANITARY. Kite clothes-drying device for avoiding the germs and microbes. High and dry above the city's tainted atmosphere. • ^ > >. •n 1 f^ w. C fXi »-*■ i "^ a n'S. " r,-<. ft 5: - n C "^ c — t^ C 3 2 _j ^3^ ::^ 2. c y- -; 05 § :>c/ A GOOD BRUSH. Porter — " Brush yer coat, sir?' DREADFUL THOUGHT. Clara — "He has proposed three or four times and I don't know whether to accept him or not." Maude — " I would. Suppose he should stop ?" The girls of a co-ed. school tried burglary for fun, and in consequence one of them was beaten nearly to death. Have we not often said that girls would never make good burglars ? A TERRIBLE OVERSIGHT. Hibernating Hank — " Wat's struck ye, Nick?" Negligent Nick — " Sufiferin' Moses ! I fergot t" take me cologne-bath an' violet massage dis mornin !", JUST LIKE AN ENG- LISHMAN. " Who invented the saying, ' He laughs best who laughs last '?" " He must have been an Eng- lishman." BE JOYFUL. Now life is all a merry rhyme, For joy the day is sent ; So have youi' fling at Christmas- time, On New-year's you repent. Reai.lv and truly, your bald- headed friend will be pleased if you give him a hair-brush. ASKING TOO MUCH. She — " Now that we are engaged I want you to kiss mother when she comes in." He — " Let's break the engagement." IL .SUICIDAL. Mrs. Cobwigger — " Every- body says the charity ball was a failure." Mrs. Dorcas — " So it was. The committee cut down t'ne expenses so that there would be something left for charity." MR. MALAPROP. Farmer Greeti (gazing at two bicycles attached by coupler) — "Well, that's grand! I never did like them tantrums, with one feller ridin' in front an' the other 'way behind." The Texas colonel — "Why, yo' scoundrel, yo've' brushed my coat away i" -IfiH 2 1 Z •= -p 3 3 S ^ -2 ^^! •§ * C c i x — 5 'l i 1 ; Overcoming the Obstacle. «< VES," said the young man who was taking the young woman for an auto ride, " the auto has its advan- tages ; but still there is a great difference between it and the good old horse." " Oh, yes ; I suppose there is," answered the young woman. " For instance," went on tiie young man, " with the horse, when one was driving with the pretty girl he could hold the lines in one hand, or wrap them about the whip, and — and — and hug the girl." " Oh-h-h-h ! you awful thing !" exclaimed theblushing young woman. Thev sped along in silence for several miles. At last the timid young thing said, '• But I should ihink that diffi- culty could be easily overcome." " What difficulty : ' asked young man. " Why, that— what you said about the times when the men took the girls driving behind a horse, and — and when they wrapped the lines about the whip, and when they — they — oh, when they did what you say they did." " I don't see how it could be over- come," said the youth. " If you stop the auto it's liable to start up of itself and up- set you in the ditch, and a fel- low simply has to keep both hands busy wWle it is in motion." "I know," fal- tered the girl ; '• but — but it seems to me there would be a way." " I'd like to know what it is." " Well, couldn't the girl man ?" The Spread of a Great Idea. << A ND how about your church-debt ?" " Oh, we are not worrying about that. Our pastor, the reverend Goetzmorgen, is going to have the official board form a company, take over the church, and trans- form the indebtedness into preferred stock." " Would that be a Christian operation ?" "Well, in speaking of it, he doesn't tise just that ex- pression, He calls it 'applying the higher finance.' " War Easter. On, Vv'E had no Easter lilies When the Easter morning broke. Where we lay in muddy trenches In a cloud of yellow smoke ; And we lacked the organ- rausic Swelling grandly on the ear, And the rose and ruby windows, And the carols sweet and clear. For the Maxim was the boys in THEIR GOOD FORTUNE. •The lady — " Why is it that big, healthy men hke you are unable to find work?" Husky Hubert (pUasatilly) — " Well, mum, if yer must know, I might say, confi dentially, dat our good luck 's all wot saves us," -couldn't she hug — hug the A Testimonial. ^^ pvAT boy ob mine," declares Aunt Ca'line, with much pride, " am puah blood. No mix' blood in 'im, I wan' ter tell yo'. Why, he haid got de genuine wool on hit. Yas, sub. 'Deed, sub, las' summah de moths got in nit an' et hit mos' plum' nigh ofifen 'im." organ Of the tattered blue, And the singing of the Mausers All the carols that we knew. But we never missed the lilies. For the flag was over- head — Glorious stars upon the azure. Glowing stripes of white and red. MINNA IRVING. Selling Ex- penses. • 'VOU acknowl- edge that the bonnet, in- trinsically, is not worth over five dollars," we say to the milliner sternly. " Then ■ why do you ask twenty - iive dol- lars for it ?" " I just wish you could come in contact with some of these shoppers," she replies plaintively. " I wouldn't try to talk one of them into buying a bonnet for less than twenty dollars." At the Museum. (« pvO they pay you much ?" asked the visitor " No," replied the living skeleton in a gust ; tone of dis- just enough to keep skin and bone together." HE MADE IT SPRING. THE THREATENED RAIN. B KISSED her and two roses red O'er her white cheeks their crimson spread, As spreads the rosy light of dawn The snowy hills of winter on. And then I saw her soft blue eyes Begin to cloud as April skies ; And so. to stop the threatened rain, I kissed the trembling thing again. THE PRIME ESSENTIAL. " What constitutes a good joke ?" " The right sort of fellow to tell it to." The spring, the spring, ALL NECESSARIES. Bridget — '" If yez plaze, mum, Oi"d loike me wages to-day, as Oi've to pay me fayther's med- ical insurance.' Mistress — " What is medical insurance, Bridget.'" Bridget — " Tis the koind thot if ye 're sick does be sendin' yez medicine an" a docthor an' a hearse an' a grave an' every- thing yez do be needin'.' A LITERAL SELL. Witty — "That fellow has seen a great many people pass in their checks. " Jones- — "Is he a west, emer ?" Witty — " No ; he's a bag- gage-clerk." What seems patriotism to one man may be diagnosed as prejudice by another. No THF- 'SQUIRE'S APRIL-FOOL JOKE " LOTS WIFE.' 3// AS THE BUY SKKS IT. A SMALL boy in one of our schools was asked to g\ve the principal parts of the verb die ; his answer was, die, dead, buried. The same interrogatory relative to love was responded to thus : " Love, married, divorced." Hugh Mossman, Onslow, Iowa. TOO P01.1TE. ^^NE day a little boy came to school with very dirty ^^ hands, and the teacher said to him, " Jamie, I wish you would not come to school with your hands soiled that way. What would you say if 1 came to school with dirty hands ?" " I wouldn't say anything," was the prompt reply. " I'd be too polite." Archib Krown, Worthington, Indiana. NO PICK FOR HIM. A WEALTHY New Yorker was showing a country friend of his, named Pat, the sights of the city. Happening to pass Tiffany's window, he stopped and di- rected Pat's attention to the brilliant display of diamonds therein. " Pat," he said, " how would you like to have your pick in that window ?" " Faith,' said Pat, " Oi'd rather have me shovel in it, that I would." Ruth Stewart, Gallipolis, Ohio. AN EASY MATTER. 'T'HE other day two good-looking old ladies entered a prominent bank. One of them wanted a check cashed. " But," said the cashier, " I don't know you ; you'll have to get some one to identify you." " My friend here will identify me," said the lady. ■■ But I don't know your friend," said the cashier. " Welt," said the lady, with a withering smile, " I'll in- troduce you." Jack W. Hanbv, Jr., Rockwall, Texas. NEITHER INTERNA!, NOR EXTERNAL,. A N' Irishman who was troubled with catarrh, or some similar affliction, having been advised by his chum, W'ent to a doctor for treatment. When he returned Mike asked, " Did he tell \ez to take it mternally or externally ?" " Faith, nayther," was Pat's reply. " Shure, thin, how're yez goin' l' take it?" inquired Mike. " Shure," said Pat, "he tould me t' shnuff it oop me nose. Edgar A. Williams, Sewaren, New Jersey. ^VHY THE BREAD CAME BACK. /^NE night a boy who had been working in a baker- ^^ shop until quite late broke the marble-slab on which he moulded his loaves of bread. So he straight- way went to the marble-yard to procure another, but found ihe place closed up. On his way back he passed a graveyard, and as it was very dark he climbed over the fence, pulled up a small headstone which he thought about the right size and took it back with him to finish his job. The next day all the loaves of bread were sent hack short- ly after being delivered. Happening to turn one of the loaves over he found on the other side the following : "Here lies the body of Mrs. , Born A.D. 1682, Died A.D. 1740." Dorothy G. Mix, Wallingford, Conneclicuf. CO'W IN A BOX. A WELL-KNOWN man tells this incident in his own ex- perience. Before coming to this country he attended a leading school in his native land antl had a native teacher. He was taught that p-t-o u-g-h spelled plow in the English tongue, and that necessarily c-o-u-g-h spelled cow. After coming to this country he learned that a chest is a box, and also that a part of the body is called the chest. While recovering from a sick spell, the doctor called one morning and asked how he felt, whereupon he replied, " Oh, pretty well, except that I have a cow in my box." Hugh Mossman, Onslow, Iowa. WHO HE WAS. TN one of our western cities there is a cigar-store located ■*• on one of the principal streets that the workmen use going to and from their work. It was the custom of a small Irishman to stop in at the cigar-store every morning and say, " Have ye a match .'" Upon receiving- a match he would light his pipe and go on to his work. After re- peatmg this procedure for several mornings the clerk made up his mind to find out who he was. So the next morning the Irishman came in as usual and asked for a match, whereupon, giving him the match, the clerk said, "Comrade, I would like to know who you are?" " Why, don't you know who I am ?" " No ; of course not. 1 never have been introduced to you." " Well, I am the little man that comes in every morn- ing to light me pipe." George R. Gard, Ord, Nebraska. AN IMPOSSIBILITY. T ATTENDED a dance a few years ago in a little Ne- ■*• braska village, whf-re oysters were served during the evening as refieshments. Accommodations being meagre, only a few couples would go to the dining-room at a time. During a waltz a lady and her SaeWish escort sat down at the table where 1 was seated, and hardly had their stews been placed before them when the music stopped and the manager's voice was heard in the hall announcing a qua- drille. The lady excitedly exclaimed : " Hurry up, Otto ! I'm engaged for this set. Eat 'em two at a time. " Otto obediently made several spasmodic dives with his spoon, then, without the least suspicion of humor, stolidly leaned back in his chair and remarked, " I can't. There ain't but one in here." R. L. Piatt, Midland City, Illinois. A MISTAKE THAT CURED. TN a Denver hotel a man and his wife had registered and taken a room. During the night the man was seized with a severe pain in the stomach and rolled and tossed in great anguish. At last, having exhausted all the rem- edies at hand, his wife decided to go to one of the lower rooms 10 heat a porous plaster 4i S as c 5 o" B Q tf] o o: (J (»< IZI 'Kiar Biffs Epicurean Bear A Tale that Dnmfounded ez>en the Pochiick Chronicler By Ed Mott 3«^ I OLOMON CRIBBER, the veracious and ever-ready chronicler of Po- chuck doings, both reminiscent and contemporaneous, had one all thought up as he came into the tavern at the Corners. The expres- sion on his face was unmistakable indication of the fact. It was so unmistakable that it resulted in a wonderful thing. It gave an inspiration to 'Kiar Biff, the land- lortl, and as Mr. Cribber sat down, turned his bland smile toward 'Kiar, and was about to introduce the amazing Pochuck incident he had made his mental notes of, the landlord, suddenly inspired, held him in reserve by remarking, "Solomon, if you ever take to keepin' a bear, don't never let it git an appetite fer goose-liver pie, fer if you do it'll bring the bear down m sorrow to the grave, so to speak, and as like as not cost you a whole lot o' soreness o' heart." The smile and benevolent expression left the face of the Pochuck chronicler, and although his mouth was wide open, he sat dumb, staring at 'Kiar Biff. "And, Solomon," said 'Kiar, " keep him away from Dutch cheese and sassages, fer if you don't they'll lead him from the straight and narrow path you've brung him up in out into the broad road that leads to destruc- tion, jest as sure as you're born ! Mind what I tell you, Solomon ! Keep him away from 'em !" Mr. Cribber, having recovered himself somewhat, made an attempt to recall his smile, and said to 'Kiar, "Yes, yes! Of course — ha, ha, ha! — 'Kiar. But what I was goin' to say was that we got to talkin' about weather this mornin', and Uncle David Beckendarter says to me, ' Solomon,' he says, ' 1 remember a ' " But the inspiration was too strong in 'Kiar. It could not be suppressed, and he cut the Pochuck historian off short in his relation. " And I'll tell you how I know it," said he, waving Mr. Cribber aside. •• When I kep' tavern over in the Scrubby- hook country I had a bear. I riz that bear from a cub that didn't remember its mother. And I riz it in the way it should go. That bear wa'n't only good and honest. He was actu'ly pious. First when I named him I called him Jonah, after an uncle o' mine, but that bear moped and moped, and every time he heerd his name he'd let go a yelp as if he didn't like it. The bear was so consarned good and conscientious that by and by I says to myself that I'd bet a couple o' shillin' that he thought the name wa'n't fittin' to him, and so I changed his name to Moses. You jest ought to seen the difference when he found me callin' him Moses ! The tears o' joy most come in hi^ eyes every time he heerd his name. Then one time my little boy was too sick to go to Sunday-school. Of course we didn't think nothin' about the collection fer the heathen they took up, but if Moses didn't take a penny outen the tin cup on the mantletree and carry it up to the red school-house, where Sunday-school was, and toss it in to 'em, then I don't remember jest right ! He was very pious, Moses was." Solomon Cribber sat dumb again, staring at 'Kiar BifT. " And then Lewy Schwatzenbacher come all the way from Jersey somewheres," continued 'Kiar, "to board at my tavern and fish and hunt. He brung with him a stone-drag load, most, of Dutch cheeses and sassages and goose-liver pie, to eat betwixt meals. I said then, and I say now, that I was willin' to bet that the meat them sassages was made of was old enough to have come offen pigs and setch that walked out o' the ark with Noah. And them cheeses — say, Sol Cribber ! let me tell you about them cheeses. Schwatzenbacher took a great shine to my bear from the start, and he thought so much of him that he was wilUn' to share his sassages and cheeses with him, and I was a little disapp'inted in Moses when I see that he didn't have no trouble at all in gittin' away with 'em. " There was one partic'lar cheese, though, that he balked at some at first, but he pulled himself together by and by and got the best of it. And that sp'iled some- thin' the hull o' the Scrubbyhook bailiwick had been countin' big on. Joe Bunker, who had outfit every fighter there was on the old Scrubby, had bet me ten dollars that he could lick Moses in a rough-and-tumble. The day was sot fer the fight, but when Joe heerd that the bear had got away with that cheese o' Schwatzenbacher's he drawed the bet. " ' Moses has got too much sand fer me to rub up ag'in !' says Joe, and disapp'intment bigger than a ton o' hay sot down on the hull Scrubbyhook spread o' waters. But, Solomon, it mebbe '11 give you an idee o' the heft o' the cheeses that Schwatzenbacher introduced to that bear o' mine." The Pochuck narrator made an effort to get himself in his old form and spar for an opening, but it was no use. 'Kiar went right on. " But amongst all o' them betwixt-meals victuals that Schwatzenbacher had brung," said he, " nothin' seemed to tickle the palate o' the bear so all-pervadin' as his goose-liver pie. I s'pose your Uncle David Beckendarter has told you all about what goose-liver pie is, Solomon .'" Mr. Cribber was reduced to such a state of inaptitude that he actually hadn't presence of nimd enough to say yes ! " Sing'lar !" said 'Kiar. " I didn't know what it was, neither, till one day, while him and Moses was lunchin' on some, Schwatzenbacher up and told me. Goose-liver pie is made outen goose livers that has been stretched from their nat'ral size till they git to be as big as a good- sized ham. How do they do that stretchin' ? By coopin' the geese up and keepin' 'em cooped up, and then stuffin' 'em and stuffin' 'em with fodder that swells the livers up till one goose's liver, Schwatzenbacher said, 'd be big enough to cut and fit a hull flock o' geese with ordinary livers that geese wear every day. The fodder they use in stuffin' the geese with is corn-meal, and they pack the liver, when they take the goose away from it, in tin cans and pots, and it's goose-liver pie. " Another one o' them Dutch eatin's that Moses had a hankerin' fer was a sassage that was stuffed in a skin as big around as a sasser, and had white spots scattered around in it the size of a ten-cent piece. It makes me madder 'n a snake, yit, to think o' that ding sassage ! The first 1 noticed that Moses was on the downward path was the inklin' that sassage give me. Moses and Schwatzen- bacher went so heavy on them sassages that they give out, and I was glad of it, if they wa'n't. •■ One night I ketched the biggest eel I ever see. It was bigger round than a rollin'-pin. I skinned it and hung the skin on the hitchin'-post to dry. Next day my coach-dog, Fanny, brought me a litter o' six o' the nicest pups you ever see — shiny as mushrats, and spotted like leopards. I had every one of 'em sold fer ten dollars apiece as soon as they got their eyes -open, and I was feelin' good, I tell you. That afternoon I see that some one had walked off with that amazin' big eel-skin o' mine, and that made me mad, fer I wanted to tell about ketchin' that big eel, and have the skin to show to them that snick- erei.. " Next forenoon I went out to take another look at my coach-dog pups, and, \^ and behold ye ! there was only five of 'em ! One o' the pups was gone ! Now 1 was mad, fer sartin, and I went tearin' 'round to see if I couldn't git some track o' where the pup had gone to, when I see Moses comin' from "round the barn and carryin' somethin" over to where Schwatzenbacher was gittin' ready to open a goose-liver pie. I walked over there, too, and I thought I'd drop in my tracks when I see that what the bear was carryin' was my missin' eel-skin, stuffed full o' somethin' ! " I took it away from Moses, and then I see that the stuffin' o' the skin was somethin' spotted with white, like one o' them sassages, and then I give a howl. That un- fortunate bear had stole that eel-skin and 'propriated one 9' my ten-dollar pups and prepared it fer stuffin' fer the -^'7 HELD IN RESERVE. Philanthropist — " And have you anything laid by for a rainy day ?" Pat Ducy — " A whole quart, sor ; an' it's a glorious drunk Oi'U hov th' foorst day it's too wet to womik." ACCIDENTAL BRAVERY ; OR, PROFESSOR TIMID'S FIRST, LAST AND ONLY LION. t^ > Js^^ ^y% r 9 _J^^"^ ifC^ V ' _r ^^ -H HIS THEORY. " Davie," Edith asked, " why do folks comb their heads ?" " Huh !" Davie looked at his sister with an ex- pression of pity. " Why do folks rake their gar- dens? T' make th' hair grow, little goose." I. DOLEFUL OUTLOOK. " Why does the husband of the two-headed woman wear such a doleful look ?" asked the living skeleton. " Easter is coming and she in- sists upon having two new bon- nets," replied the India-rubber man. Even the gentle rain from heaven plays pool in the streets. II. THE RESULT ACCOM- PLISHED. Deacon Jones— " What ! Not go- ing to church any more ? I thought you told me not long ago that you hadn't missed a Sunday in three years .'" Farmer Corncrib — " So I hadn't. So I hadn't. But what's the use now ? Times air gittin' as good as thev ever was." IV. BLESSING HER STARS. Crawford — " What makes you think your wife isn't so much of a new woman as she used to be ?" Crabshaw — " Because since this war-scare I haven't heard her say how sorry she was that she wasn't a man." JUSTIFIABLE WRATH. Mr. Sellem (who has hurrii-d from X,r.u Vor/;) — "I'd like to have a hold of the fresh guy who wrote me that I'd get a big order by calling at 331 Market street." He Had To Radiate Money. /UR. MUCHMONN, his wife and three daughters were staying at the Mostex-Pensive hotel, in the Adirondacks. As a means of en- tertaining the guests, the manager of the hotel engaged a lecturer who gave a demonstration of the latest researches in scientific fields. After one of his lectures mamma and the girls were telling papa all about it. He had not been able to attend, owing to an imperative demand for his presence and advice and assist- ance in opening a series of jack-pots in a little room on the third floor. " It was just lovely, papa '" said the youngest daughter. " So educational, too," averred the second daughter. '• And so helpful to the mind," chimed in the eldest daughter. " It certainly was of benefit to all present," said mamma. " What did he tell about ?" asked papa, who was not in a hap- py mood, having on different occa- sions overestimated the possibilities of the draw ; also underestimated his opponents' hands. "About radium," explaineO mamma. "What is radium — some new dress-goods or a breakfast-food ?" "No; it's a new substance which constantly gives off parts of itself and still never diminishes in size or quantity." " Huh 1 That fellow must have been trying to tell you women what your idea of my pocket-book is." The Courteous Gateman. ((I WAXT to catch the four- o'clock train for New York !" exclaims the charming damsel, rushing against the turnstile. Politely, but firmly, the gateman bars the way. "The train has gone, madam; it left just a mmute ago," he says. '■ Oh, dear ! Then I have missed it :" " No, madam," he replies, doff- ing his cap and bowing gracelully. " I think it would be better to say- that the train has missed you." After that, to wait four hours for the next train was a light matter. Chimmie- M.\GG1E — THE DIFFERENCE. " Is dat her fiance ?" ' Naw ! Dat 's de guy she 's goin' ter marry." The Chestnut-trcc ii UNDER the spreading cliestnut-tree The Jolly Jokeman stands ; A blithe and happy fellow he. As. with his upstretched hands, He shakes the chestnuts from the boughs, All dull and brown with age, Yet fresh and young enough, he vows, To grace some funny page. HI. And this, so smooth and rotund yet. Despite its tale of years, Next month (he's willing, quite, to bet) In Judge's garb appears. This large and venerable shell Yields to the Jokeman's knife ; 'Tis hollow, empty ! very well, 'Twill suit the simple Lt/e. V. But still remains, here at his feet, A mangy, hopeless bunch ; These go to London, where they'll meet A welcome warm from Punch. Thus doth the spreading chestnut-tree Contribute to our joys The selfsame wit and humor we Were fed upon as boys. This one, most ancient, he reserves (He's tried the plan before) To fill the place it best deserves In Harper's (changeless) Drawer. While here's another, punctured through With worm-holes — ^splendid luck ! The Jolly Jokeman knows 'twill do To send along to Puck. TV. Once more he shakes the chestnut-tree ; Down falls, bewhiskered, gray, A joke inscribed l6 B. C, Bok's ! for the L. H. J. Another yank a nut brings down Too poor to boil or roast. Which, likewise, goes to Penn's old town. Addressed, " The S. E. Post." VI. One day comes Bangs, and with him Ade, And all the motley crew ; Each rests beneath the chestnut's shade And swipes a joke or two. Here's Burgess, Loomis, Masson, Dunne, And clever Carolyn ; Two paragraphers for the Sun (But these are butters-in). VII. And while rich spoil they gather fast, The^e jokemen laugh with glee ; How brief a space their jobs would last But for the chestnut-tree ! Helpless, unseen, Joe Miller's wraith Sighs on the topmost limb. To think those chestnuts all, i' faith. Had once belonged to him ! f. c Ancient Tayles By Lowell Otus Reese Ye Ass in ye Senate. OOK YE, deare children, thys is an an- cient tayle with a modern moral. Once uponne a tyme all ye ani- mals gat together to holde an elec- tion. There was much electioneer- ing & manie fytes. And itte was soe thatte there were manie candidates. Yea, ver- ilie, every animal desired that he be elected ; & there was noe one to vote for another, God wot. " Behold !" sedde ye Owl, " I am ye logical candidate. Am 1 notte e.vceedynge wise ? Or atte leaste have I notte ye reputation for wisdom — and do I notte looke ye part ? For itte mattereth notte thatte thou be ye prize chump o ye century, if thatte thou art able to putte on a looke of profound sageness ! Therefore, I claim ye right to be elected to ye Senate & have a free pass both ways !" Butte while they one & alle admitted ye soundnesse of ye Owls claims, yette were they unwilling to yield himme ye plume. '• For he hath no puUe !" sedde they, " & who- ever heard of a politician withoute a puUe ?" Soe they turned himme down. " Lo !' yelped ye Smalle Dogge, "Sende me! I am eloquent ! Yea, itte is soe thatte my voice worketh from the settynge of ye sunne to ye rising thereof and tireth notte ! Ye smallest note of alarm setteth me off into a spasm of eloquence which lasteth for a whole day soe thatte alle menne curse & wish I were deade I Sende me !" " Buite thou niakest much noise & sayest nothynge !" objected ye BuUe. " And who ever heard of a politician that didde other- wise ?" demanded ye Smalle Dogge. But they were silent ; for of a iruth none wisted. Juste thenne ye Ass appeared among themme. "Be silent 1" he brayed, as he tooke ye stande. " I am ITTE 1" he sedde with a swagger. " Thys meetynge wille now stande adjourned. For beholde ! I have mayde all ye rabble outside to gette drunk on beere. Likewise I have subsidized ye dailie papers & stolen ye ballot-box. I am rich & therefore I have been able to cul- tivate a puUe. Alsoe I am eloquent & my kyck wille make me a power inne ye Senate whenne itte cometh to ye firste rough house. For, marry & gosh-durn ! whenne ye scrimmage is over ye house wille look like unto a gentle & honorable passage-at-arms inne Breathitt County, Kentucky !" Thenne ye Ass arose, kycked ye gavel through ye sky- light, piled alle ye delegates uponne ye floorc for ye count, took ye nomination inne hys teeth & walked off to glory & honor. For itte is soe thatte \e rabble loveth to be repre- sented by an Ass who can bray, yette say naught ; drink things, make ye biggest kyck inne a rough house & bring glory & notoriety uponne hys native lande. First Gurgle : Beere, graft & a pulle ; these are ye Three Graces of ye politician. Second Chunk : Looke notte for a wise manne inne politics. Wisdom stayeth afar & hoeih corn. Third Wise Gob : Whenne thou canst no longer earn a decent living driving a dray — enter politics ; & the I-ord have mercie on thy sinnefuUe soule ! Ye Olde Rooster & ve Olde Henxe. IXCE uponne a tyme, deare children, there lived an olde Rooster who hadde gone manie sea- sons withoute taking unto hymselfe a wife. & itte was soe thatte he hadde lived ' happilie & felt nottee ye hande of trouble ; for he was a luckie olde Rooster & hys life was a cinch. Butte one day he became possessed of an idea. ■' Itte is nottee goode for me to die an olde bachelor !" quoth he. •' Lo, I shalle go forth & finde me a wife !" For be hadde become a disciple of a strenuous Lion who went aboute through ye lande preaching ye doctrine of No Race-suicide. Now, ye olde Rooster was meek & inoffensive, with a weak chinne & a balde hedde. Hence, of course, he fixed hys affections uponne a stronge-minded olde Henne & worshiped her afar off. "She looketh goode to me !" sighed ye olde Rooster. " Beholde ! I who have butte little character, am sorelie inne need of some one to holde me straight !" & he asked her to be hys. For itte is even soe thatte manie an olde Rooster who goeth through lite havynge a goode tyme becometh aweary of perfect peace & swappeth the same for a few briet yeares inne helle. While hys hedde groweth more balde & hys hearte is broken into fragments. Alsoe hys peace of minde de- parteth & he longeth for ye chance to goe uponne a jagge, yette dareth notte looke uponne ye wine, lest ye wife of hys bosom smite hymme fuUe sore uponne ye hedde & putte hys intellect uponne ye bumme. & itte came to pass thatte ere ye honeymoon was half over ye olde Rooster looked uponne a yellow dogge & longed to be itte. " Marry & gosh-dern !" he soboed, " butte itte were better to be a yellow dogge than a human reticule dang- ling atte ye waiste of a stronge-minded female !" Thenne he started & grew payle for thatte he hadde uttered treason. & one day they founde hymme outte on ye scrappe- heape with hys feete stycking uppe in ye aire. A letter was oy hys side and ye coroner wept as he read: " Firot Sneeze : Ere thou plunge inne, finde if ye matrimonial sea be too hotte for thee." " Second Wozzle : If thou have a weak character — try notte to mend itte bv marriage." " Third Wallop : Beware ye stronge-minded olde Henne who weareth ye mole onne her chinne & hath no use for children !" Tavle of Ye Animal Court. n~ IHE animals were trying ye Catte for murder. Ye Monk was judge & ye Olde Dogge was prosecuting attorney for ye Stayte. Ye pris- oner was defended by ye Sly Foxe. ' A thousand spectators were present, for itte was a famous case. All about ye bar policemen stood & groaned, for they were verie fatte. "Your Honor," sedde ye sly Foxe, "I move that ye charge be quashed. F N 5d n:. M <:-. > T5 =^ f 3 = rfl CTQ 7i '« a H JU - r-" r ^ OQ Ij t- w K- a. o s? ?:) ?^ 5: r C '^ < - i" p- Poets of the Springtime By Morris Wade OW Cometh the poet of the springtime. There are a great many of him and more of her. They are sending their " little brain children " broadcast over the land to the profit of the postal service and to the distraction of poetry-worn editors. Many of these editors know just how 'Gene Field felt when he wrote briefly, " Because you sent it by mail," to the poet whose effusion was entitled, " Why Do I Live ?" The pussy-willow, the coming-up of the crocus, the swell- ing of the buds, the spring zephyrs, the birds preparing to mate and bring forth their " birdlets " all these are productive ot couplets, quatrains, sonnets, madrigals and every other form of poetic expression. Cupid is supposed to get in his work with telling effect in the springtime, when the young man's fancy " lightly turns to thoughts of love," and the poet is inspired to tell the editor all about it in lines like these : " Ah, 'tis the spring, 'tis the spring ! I tune my harp and sing and sing ! The years are not to me and mine For in our hearts is the sweet springtime. And love is ours, dear love, to thee I sing, My heart is full of thee this spring." With this comes a little note on lavender-tinted and violet-scented paper, in which the author assures the editor that the poem is " entirely original," and that " competent critics " have pronounced it far superior to anything that has yet appeared in his magazine, but not even this proof of the merit of the poem influences the editor to accept it, and it goes back to its author with a " declined-with-thanks " slip. The next spring poet tells the editor that — " The glad springtime is in my heart, 1 shout and sing for glee ! My love comes up the grassy lane, I stand and wait for he ! A Irog, it croaketh loud and clear, A bird sings on a wall. And from the distant meadow land The bossy cow doth bawl. These sweet spring sounds are naught to me, When my lover's voice I hear, And his dear arms round me twine, And his whisperings are in my ear !" "She's got it bad," is all the comment the editor says, but that is sufficient to prove that this rhapsody will also find its way back to its author. A single stanza of the next poem in the editor's mail convinces him that the poem is not up to the mark : " Spring Cometh ! 1 live ! I love ! Sing, litUe birds 1 Thou and thy mate Sing, sweet warblers, early and late. When wilt thou be Like him and me Happy ! Ah, God ! how happy are we ! Ha, ha ! What recks it me When I loveth him and he loveth me ?" The author of the next poetic spasm says in the letter sent with it: "I desire you to know that the inclosed sonnet of six lines are entirely of my own composure with- out assistance from no one. It is not my first attempt at poetickal composition,, as I am the awthor of something like one hundred poems wrote by myself on various lines of thought. Some has been published in our town paper. If desired will be pleased to send you one a week for your own sheet on any subject wished. The inclosed was wrote in thirteen minutes, although I had not thought it up before I wrote it. It comes natchrel to me to write poetry, one of my own uncles having went crazy while writing poetry and my grandmother on one side often wrote wedding, birth and death poetry. Inclosed find poetry as follows to-wit : " What means this wild commotion, This upheaval of naturer's forces And rejuvenating of the world? Ah ! the bonds of old winter are broke, His dominion endeth, and why ? , All natures gives reply — ' Spring is here !' " The editor had just pounded a postage-stamp on the envelope in which this " sonnet of six lines " was to be returned when a poetess appeared in person. She was about twenty years older than she would have cared to own up to, and her goklen-brown and wavy " front " was a good many shades darker than the rest ot her hair. Her manners were of the " kittenish " order and she spoke with a trilling sort of a gurgle. The editor took his heels from his desk, put on his coat, laid aside his cigar and in other ways acknowledged the unwonted presence of a lady in his lair. "Good-morning," she said, with a smile that revealed the lack of skill of the dentist who had made her " upper plate." " Am I very, very naughty to come in p%rson instead of writing to you ? A personal interview is so much more satisfactory, don't you know .' I have always felt that if I were an editor I would want to see a// of my contributors, for there is so much in a personality, don't you know ? Thanks, I v/i/l sit down just a moment or two, and I'll tell you right awav what I have come for. My friends are just determined that 1 shall publish some of my poor little verses that I know are not worthy the name of poetry. Some ot my friends have been good enougli to say that my lines sometimes suggest Browning, and if they do, it is not because I am trying to imitate that dear, dear poet. He was everything to me ! 1 can hardly speak his name without tears. And Tennyson ! It seemed to me that a part of my very life died with him ! Do you exchange with the Guiding Star? No? If you did you would perhaps be familiar with my work. I wanted to read one or two of my poems to you myself, for I think that only the author can properly interpret the soul of a poem. This came to me in the dead of night, and I got up and scribbled it off on a fly-leaf hastily torn from a book : ' Oh, pansy of the springtime ! Oh, flower of purple hue ! Oh, white and golden rim Tliat doth encircle you ! What magic and what mystery within tliy form doth dwell ! What giveth thee th)' color ? Who knows ? Ah, well ! Keep tliou thy secret if thou wilt, and only give to me Thy beauty and thy fragrance, and grateful will I be.' " Of course I do not claim that there is anything so very deep in my poor little rhyme, and yet I fancy it will awaken a responsive chord in many hearts. Now, here is something with a deeper note of feeling in it. I call it ' To Our President ': ' Oh. man of might and destiny Who occupies! the White House chair I What cares are thine That thou alone must bear ! A nation's weal or woe Is in thy grip ; Hast thou not need, oh, Theodore, Of all thy statesmanship ? No glittering baubles on thy brow, No sceptre and no crown, , j No robes of state, yet all allow it Thou art a sovereign born. ' And north and south and east and west, And all our nation o'er. The people bow to thy behest, Oh, Theodore ! our Theodore !' " I have read that to a number ot my friends and they have all declared that they never heard anything like it before," she said, as she wiped her eyes and manifested other signs of emotion. " Sometimes I dash off quaint little humorous conceits like this : ' A springtime odor fill> the air. It greets my nostrils ev'rywhere ; 'Tis not from fl'iwer or growing thing, This certain harbinger of spring ; 'Tis not from earth or soft blue sky. This smell that greets both you and I ; It is — it is — Uh, fie, how rash. To write such lines to burning trash !' " I'm sure I have as little conceit as most poets, but I do think that is rather clever. Some of my friends have laughed even more heartilv over this little humorous fancy : ^^3 ' Hang out the bed-clothes. Beat the rugs. Take up the carpets. And kill the bugs. Paint, stain and varnish All over the house — Set traps for rats And also for mouse. Sweep and dust And clean the floor • From up in the attic Down to cellar door. " All these duties to thee I bring," Says spring, sweet spring !' " I have twenty or thirty other poems with me, but ot course I know you haven't time for all of them, so I'll just read one more to you and — you have an engagement ? Then, of course, I'll not detain you. Oh, thank you ; I'll be delighted to leave the poems and you can select those you wish. Yes. Shall 1 call again, or — oh, certainly, return those you do not want l)y mail. Good-bye, and thank you for being so nice to me. I know now that it isn't true that editors are all so dreadfully dreadful. I feel awfully naughty taking up so much of your time. Good- bye." Then the editor rips open a pale-blue envelope and draws forth a sheet of pale-blue paper with a gold mono- gram, and reads : •' Spring is here, oh, gentle spring ! Tra la, tra la, tra la, la, la, la ! Spring is here, oh, hear me sing, Tra la, tra la, tra la, la, la, la, Oh, spring, sweet spring, I " Then the editor says things not to be recorded here and joyfully accepts the invitation of a member of the staff, who thrusts his head in at the door with an invita- tion to go out and " have something." An Easter Lay. I'D sing the glamour of the Easter hat. But 'twould demand too serious a strain — The Easter costume with its flowing train, The Easter lily — shopworn subject that ! And Easter beer is oft a trifle flat ; For rhyme's exigencies 'tis somew hat plain. So let me sound the glorious lyre again Upon a theme where I know where I'm at. 1 sing the faithful bird whose modest lay, Though not as liquid as the nightingale's. Rings solid 'mid the Easter regimen. In fame's bright roster no part doth she play, Yet many an aureole before it pales — The deathless glory of our native hen. EUGENE GEARY. All Who Run Can Read. Her husband — " Now, there's Mrs. Meeker. I know that she makes all her own clothes, yet you never hear her say a word about it." Mrs. Marter — " Humph ! It isn't necessary." B ECAUSE a man is what he thinks he is it does not fol- low that he is what he claims to be. A DAGO DITTY I am a I-talian man, Big-a biz on da street-a I do, Sell-a da fruit-a and banan' At five-a cent for two. But chestnuts no more-a pay, Can't-a make-a my rent : Da newspap' take-a dat trade away, By da Sunday supplement. BASE-BAWL. •' After all, the great Amer- ican game is often played on the European plan." " How's that ?" " All talk and no fight." KNEW WHAT HE WANTED. ..WillieSkidds rapped at Mrs. Bicker's door, and when that lady opened it he explained that his mamma had gone out and he couldn't get into the kitchen to get anything to make mud-pies in, and would Mrs. Bicker lend him a jar ? " What kind of a jar, Willie ?" " Oh, a family jar will do. Mamma says you have plenty of them." "THE SONG OF THE SHIRT." (A new adaptation.') A SCOFFER AT THE SEANCE. The medium (triumphantly, as a scratching noise is heard in the cabinet) — " Now if that isn't spirits, what is it .'" Voice (in the audience) — " Rats !" CASABIAXCA (NEW JOURNALISM). The boy scorched on the bicycle bridge, Whence all but him had fled. The moon lit up the bicycle wreck, And the boy stood on his head. USEFUL TO THE COMPREHENSIVE. "It beats all what these city folks won't git up next. Naow, I s'pose all I've got t' do ef a fire breaks aout is t' grab me duds an' jump frum th' winder." As It Mi^ht Be By Everett McNeil ?^i, HE other night I attended a woman- suffrage lecture. The orator was extremely radical and eloquent, and the collation, served after the lecture by the enthusiastic mem- bers of the Universal Sisterhood of Amalgamated Woman Suffragists, before whom the lecture was deliv- ered, was particularly delectable and appetizing, and I ate appreci- atively and abundantly of the rich viands. The next morning I awoke, or thought I awoke, with my wife's elbow poking me in the ribs. " John ! John !" she was saying, emphasizing each "John" with a thrust of her elbow. " John ! it is time to get up. I must have an early breakfast this morning. I have got to get to the office by eight o'clock, and it is nearly six now. Come, get a hus- tle on you. I'll have some pork-chops and eggs and hot muffins. Make the coffee good and strong. Call me in halt an hour. Now, hurry, John," and, with a final dig of her elbow, she turned over and closed her eyes, and in tnree minutes more her heavy breathmg told me that she was asleep. I lay for a few minutes dreamily wondering what it all meant, and then, with a sigh, I brushed the sleep cob- webs from my eyes and got out of bed. I remember staring for a minute or so a little blankly at the clothes hanging on the back of tlie chair and evidently mine ; and then, with curiously familiar hands, [ put them on, and buttoned and hooked and pinned them up until every- thing was safe, and, quickly doing up my hair while deftly holding the needed hairpins in my mouth without dropping or swallowing one, I hurried to the kitchen, for Mary must have her breaklast on time, and we had no hired boy. At exactly half-past six I went to the bedroom door and called, " Mary, Mary, it's half-past six ! Time to get up. Breakfast will be ready by the time you are ready for it." Mary grunted and rolled over, and I went back to my work in the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later I again rapped on the bedroom door and called, " Are you up, Mary ? Breakfast will be ready in five minutes, and it is now nearly seven o'clock." "All right ! I'm coming !" and I heard Mary stretch- ing and yawning, and again went back to the kitchen. When the clock struck seven breakfast was all ready, and I sat waiting for Mary to put in her appearance. For fifteen minutes I waited, and then I again hurried to the bedroom. Mary was out of bed and putting on her pan- taloons. "Confound it all! There goes a button!" she ex- claimed angrily, just as I entered the room. " I do wish you would sew the buttons on so that they would stay, John. Now, hurry and get a needle and thread and sew this on. Quick, I can't wait all day." I secured the button in its proper place with all possi- ble speed, Mary, in the meantime, grumbling at me and trying to put on her collar. I heard something fall to the floor and roll away. " Heavens, my collar-button ! Do find it, John ! I'd like to get hold of the woman who invented collar-but- tons. I'd " and she clinched and unclinched her strong hands suggestively. I found the collar-button and restored it to Mary. She fastened the collar and began fumbling with the tie, her face growing redder and redder each moment. " Blame the old thing ! I can't see what has got into it this morning !" and she gave the silk ribbon an angry yank. " Come and tie it for me, John. That's a good little man," and, giving one cheek a playful little pinch, she kissed me on the other. I tied the cravat and then hurried away to our pretty little dining-room to get everything on the table, so that Mary would not have to wait a moment, for she was- already late. She came in just as the clock was striking the half-hour. •• Great guns ! Half-past seven ! And I am due at the office at eight ! I told you to call me at six-thirty, John !" and Mary glared at me as she plumped herself down in her chair and began shoveling down the food. "Great Cassar ! these muffins are as tough as sole leather. I wish you'd see father, John, and have him tell you how to make real muffins." Mary ate seven of the tough muffins and then tackled the pork-chops. " Dry as a bone again !" she exclaimed disgustedly, at the first bite. " Bet they have been in the oven for the last half-hour keeping warm. I don't see why you can't calculate the time better, John." I mildly reminded her that breakfast had been ready for the last half-hour, awaiting her good pleasure, and that I had had to put the chops in the oven to keep them warm. Her only answer was a grunt, as she made a dive for her hat and overcoat. " Won't be back until late. Here's a ten for your day's shopping. Good-bye," and, slapping a ten-dollar bill down on the table, she hurried away, forgetting in her rush to give me the usual good-bye kiss. I busied myself about the house until afternoon, when I went down town to do somi shopping. For a few min- utes after I reached the street I felt unaccountably strange and queer, and found myself staring at the people I met almost as if they were denizens of another planet. I saw many pretty young girls dressed in pantaloons and wearing coats and vests, who always touched their hats to me and to all other gentlemen whom they met. The men all had funny little hats stuck up on the tops of their heads, kept their faces smooth shaven, let their hair grow lon;j, and wore queer-looking, gayly-colored jackets, short skirts and high-heeled French shoes. Many of them car- ried parasols, and they were continually endeavoring to attract the attention of the women, without seeming to do so. All the coachmen and footmen I saw on the car- riages were well-formed, fine-looking, uniformed young women ; and it was surprising to see how quickly and gracefully they helped the richly-dressed and jeweled men in and out of their carriages. At Broadway I boarded a crowded street-car ; and the moment I entered the door three young women jumped to their feet and politely offered me their seats. I sat down, without even acknowledging the courtesy of the young woman who had given me her seat, and looked around. Above my head, on the advertising boards on the other side of the car, I read, " A vote for Elizabeth Amanda Hill for mayor of New York is a vote against the grafters and the saloon-keepers, and for the protection of our homes and husbands and chil- dren." And by its side I saw printed, in large blue letters, the following : • "Lena Lucinda Rosenhill is the laboring woman's best friend. A vote for her for mayor of New York means a vote for more hours at home with husband and baby. Better pay and less work. A nail in the coffin of the greedy monopolist, ^"ote early. \'ote right. Vote straight. Vote for Lena Lucinda Rosenhill." Every block or two, great banners, emblazoned with the names and the portraits of the opposing candidates, were stretched across Broadway ; and I noticed that all the candidates, from the mayor down, were women. I bought a newspaper. It was full of ante-election news, and I discovered that the president of the United States, all the members of congress — in short, that all the offices, city, state and national, were filled by women ; and that in all the states but one, Utah, men had been disfranchised. In one corner of the newspaper, printed in small type, I came across a short news item which read, " .MAN-SUFFRAGISTS DISCOURAGED. " KlCK.\POO, Arizona : The convention of the National Man-suffragists' Association in this city to-day was a bitter disappointment to the most ardent supporters of the movement. Delegates from only thirteen states were present. Little business was transacted, the delegates spending the greater part of their time in useless bicker- ings. It is said that three hours of the time were taken up by a discussion of the propriety of a woman giving up her seat in a street-car to a man, unless he was old or feeble, and two hours to the consideration of whether or not it was contrary to the teachings of the bible for men to be ordained as ministers of the gospel. Before the conven- tion adjourned it was voted that a concerted eflTort be made in all the states by all men-suffragists to secure for all males of legal voting age the right to vote on all school matters. The next convention will be held at Medicine Bow, Oklahoma." I got off the street-car in front of the large department- store where I was to do my shopping. It was bargain- day at this store, and a continuous stream of well-dressed me;^. was pouring through its doors. I hastened toward the bargain-counter, where silk ribbons two inches wide and valued at one dollar a yard were being offered, to-day only, lor ninety-nine and one-half cents, fearful that I would be too late to take advantage of this remarkable bargain, and in an instant found myself in the resistless sweep of a stream of pushing, shoving, elbowing, yelling, sweating men, all struggling desperately toward that rib- bon-counter. In one minute my corns had been stepped on sixteen times, my dress torn, my hat knocked off my head, three ribs broken, and I w'as sinking fainting to the floor, to be trampled under the feet of the heartless on- rushing bargain grabbers, whose loud breathings and mutterings sounded in my ears like the gibberings of fiends, when, suddenly, I felt two arms thrust around me, and I was lifted up and out of that seething mass and dropped — sprawling on my own bedroom floor, with Mary bending laughingly over me. •• John ! John I" she cried, " in the name of all that is terrible, what horrible thing were you dreaming about ? Your face looked as if your body was being passed slowly between the rollers of a gigantic wrmger, so I yanked you out of bed to break the spell. Now, hurry up and get dressed. I have already called you three times, and breakfast is all ready. If you don't get a hustle on you vou will be late at the office," and she hurried back to the dining-room. I got slowly to my feet and looked apprehensively toward the chair, on whose back I usually hung my clothes, and saw a pair of trousers hanging there. They were mine I and, with a sigh of infinite satisfaction and joy. I slipped them quickly on over my own legs, and vowed, way down deep in my inmost being, that never, never again would I attend a woman-suffrage meeting. The Breeze in the Bough. |OP light, ladies : Cake 's all dough, Nebber mind de wedder So de wind don't blow. H^ Jump light, ladies ! Wine all lees. Nebber mind de wedder So us is got a breeze. Skip light, ladies ! Pie 's all crus'. Nebber mind de wind so It don't raise a dus' ! Trip light, ladies ! Beer 's all foam. Nebber mind de wedder So de wind blow hom ;. Hop light, ladies ! Nebber mind how. Us ruck-a-way to sleep when De breeze am in de bough. M.\RTHA YOUNG. Reverend Fourthly gone to-morrow." Knicker — " That's not the worst, morrow and the cook is gone to-day." Ah ! we are here to-day and We are here to- 3^7 A LEGAL MIND. The parent — "Tommy, I've asked you twice if you know who has been at the jam-closet, and I am wailing for an answer." The CHILI) — *' Mamma, I must refuse to give you an answer on the ground that it might tend to discriminate and ingrade me," An Ancient Problem Settled. At Slocum's school-house Fridav '» iiiglits. Through mud and fog and snow. The Henry Clay debating lights Still hie themselves to blow ; And just as lofty are their flights As forty years ago. The moderator's tawny head, Though now a little bald, Still by the candle shows the red That once the girls appalled. 'Tis most beyond l)eHef. 'tis said, The rails that he has mauled. And old Cy Perkins has the floor ; Hot words flow from his tongue. Much as they did on nights of yore. When he was hale and young. But there's less power in his roar — They say he's lost a lung. " Once more I claim, before all men !" — A stilhiess reigns about — " Once more I say, it is the hen That hatched the chicken out That is its lawful mother." Then There is an awful shout. A disk sails gleaming through the air .^nd brings up very short Against the rim of old Cy's hair. And makes a great report. And then a voice calls to the chair, " Give your decision, • Sport.' " The moderator turns his eyes Toward the shattered shells. " I much regret," he sad replies, '• That circumstance compels Me to decide that my friend Cy 's That chicken's motlier." (Veils.) GEORGE A. BECKENBACGH. The Auto Cop. »STAMP5 <;p ASK FOR THEM " Thar, now, b' gosh ! that oughter make them old maids an' bachelors come ter time." Truth Lies. li/E pass by the de- serted well, but are attracted by faint cries for help from its depths. Turning back, we ask, " Who is there ?" " Truth," is the an- swer. One on the Reponer. Ii/E were in the office of the stock-yards, wait- ^^ ing- for the yard crew to get the cars for our town. Dan Eagan, a new reporter, was sitting at a desk in the corner of the office, working on the stock-list which his paper published. Bill Sanford, the yard conductor, came in and said to Hoffman, the chief clerk, " We got about ten cars of Buffalos this morning " meaning, as all stock- men know, ten cars of hogs for Buffalo. Eagan had his ears open for news, but did not understand the terms used by the stockmen, and we all no- ticed that he quickly got through his stock-list and went out. After we had finished " penning " the stock, we went into the stock-yard office and were pre- paring to go home, when in came Eagan, the most bedraggled fellow a person would care to lay eyes on — his coat was torn, pants muddy and shoes soaked, and he was nearly frozen. After he warmed himself up he looked around and saw Sanford and said, "Say, where did you put those buffaloes that you told Hoffman you had this mot-ning ? I've been all through this bloody yard, and I'll be darned if I can find anything that looks like a buffalo." To this day his friends' greeting to Eagan is, " Hello ! found any buffaloes yet ?" Joseph M. Ward, Buffalo, New York. Far Worse. WE think the way the cat comes back Is really quite a pity, But it is worse the way the man Returns unto the kitty. /^^,- Is that so ?" did we you ask. " How get in there ?" " Oh, I just climbed down to see if there was anything in this." Reflecting that peo- ple are prone to make excuses for the predica- ments in which they are found, and bearing in mind that even Truth lies at the bottom of a well, we pass on, mus- ing upon the unexpect- ed way in which the verity of an axiom is proven. WHY SHE REJECTED HIM. Frayed Fagin — " Oh, yes ; I loved a girl once, but she give me de shake, stone." Torn Thompson — " Wot kind uv stone?" Frayed Fagin — "Soapstone. She said I didn't wash often enough." She had a heart uv >> "' I) o ^ -o n — ^ u -J - 5 ^ O V _ £ o •^ d. C ^ D .•""^ V 1 "I 'i Z Z 2 O O o (« yi S !.: z S y X u ^c < d :i :i S2S Wilfred's Letters from the Country ^v By F. P. Pitzer EER TEETCHER : skool had hardly clozed its doors wen Maw sed she must leeve Paw at hoam and go Away tu the kun- try with awl the children caws Paw needed a Rest being, as he wos, awl run down, i asked Maw if he wos run down by a Orto- mobeel, but she only lafifed. we have thirteen children in are Family, a Beggar's dozen as Paw kails them, he says the odds agenst his getting ritch is 13 to I. Maw got sevral Bloo Ribbins from president Roosvelt. So Maw an Liza— Liza's are servint gurl ; gess she must be maid of meersham caws she's orfully colored — kommenst tu pack up and thare wos more trunks laying arownd the hows than a Heard of EUerfunts possess an Maw had em awl packt so full that yu koodent squeeze in any I of them a pebble even if it wos maid of sponge. Liza had tu paist onto each I sum sekond hand labels w'ith foren ritin onto them witch Maw purchast down Town for fifty sents a bundle. unforchinately Maw mistook Paw's pants for a peese of fancy work and packt it at the bottom of the biggest trunk. He kood have gone withovvt them — no-0-0, I don't meen that, I meen he had a other pare, but he only had i pare of Suspenders and Maw left them onto the pants she buried m the trunk, as I sed befor Paw only owned one pare of Suspenders and thare wos no possibil chans of his gettin a other Pare caws Christmas was six months orl yet. Maw sed she woodn't open up that trunk agen if Ni- agra froze over and then Paw asked her if she thort his trowsirs were going tu be Held up by Hiwaymen. altera good long Fight thay compromised by Maw going into a naybors an borrowing a pare. wen the expressman he came he carried down the trunks an broke evry Thing in the hows exsept the tu (2) dollar bill wot Paw gave him to talk owt five (5) sents for a tip. Paw is still wating for him tu come back with the change. Maw had desided tu go sumware into the Catskill mowntins via bote, so we awl trotted with her down to the peer. Maw went up tu a caje markt " Tickets." As I had orfen seen munkeys, Girafts and Jaggers up at the zoo I wanted tu see wot a Ticket lookt like, so I warked up tu the caje, but the only animal I saw was a man. Maw says tu him," One hole ticket and thirteen haves." The man was slitely def I gess caws he sed tu Maw, " Yule haf tu go tu the frate orfis lady for tickets for thin teen calves." " Mo ; haves, I want " screemed Maw, " aint these the quarters tu get haves ?" Then the fellar says " Excursion ?" Maw lookt down at us awl standin in sin- gle file and says, smiling like, " No ; looks more like a parade." Well, at last we got are tickets and then warked onto a big ship (bote) and got sects way up into the Front & I will tell you abowt awl the sites we seen up the Hudson in mi next. Your pupill, Wilfred. P. S. Excuse ritin as Paw never wos edchewkated mutch. n. DEER TEETCHER : " Awl abord !" The gang-plank wos pulled in, the whistle shreeked tu cleer its voice I gess, the bote was tide loose and we were orf. the Hudson is indeed a bootiful river and I dont blaim Hen Hudson for leeving his hoam in Hudson County, Nu Jersey, to diskover it. Sum Boddy asked ware Hen's re- mains kood be fownd, and I sed on page 124 of my skool histry wareon, as yu know, is a picture of Hudson with a i gowged owt and his fase distorted unmercifully with led pensils. the sites up the river were wonderful and it seemed that everything worth seein along the line was known and pointed owt bi persons on bord. Eeetch thing got a haf dozen diffrent naims and I didn't know wot was wot or vice versa (wich meens the same thing lookt at frum the reer). the brewery (which is one of the institushuns wich Paw's charity an fiUanthropic contributions help tu support) at Weehawken was pointed owt as Clumbia Col- lege, the ladycliff Semniinary was pointed owt as Wash- ington's hedquarters and wen awl the gurls came owt tu waiv hankerchiffs the yung men standin neerbi sed thay didnt blami George for making his hedquarters there, an thay sed only a brave man kood do it, too, with that flock of lonesum gurls arownd. we past (General Grant's ded toom and Sing-Sing that land of the unfree and hoam of the depraved. the next town we past, a dood sed tu his gurl " Haver- straw " and she sed she wood if thare was a creem soda at the other end of it. She was orful smart. a old- farmer on the bote was looking at the big rownd life preservers tide onto the ralings and sed tu me " Sonny, wot's them ?" I tride hard tu keep from laffin and thinking tu hav a little fun I sed " Thayre dcKigh nuts ;.no thay aint thayre quay-rings." Wasn't that a fine joke ; but he didnt lafT one bit ; guess he's used to reed- ing the funny papers. i lerned that the Injuns were the fust tu land on New York, and that the Dutch were the fust to land on the Injuns. we left the Bote at last and hording a trane we rode throo the Catskills with awl the little Kittenskills arownd them and we didn t get owt until the conductor showted " Lanesville." then we got owt and fownd it wos a fine plase ; more abowt it afterwards. Yure pupill, Wilfred. P. S. If thare is any uncouth langwidge in this letter excuse Paw as he never does know his plase. III. DEER TEETCHER : This is a fine plase. we hav fresh milk, fresh eggs, fresh vejetables and fresh w-aitresses. thare is no streams on this plase and the only warter we hav is in the milk and thares never enuffof that lelt wen it reetches are end of the table to let a moskeeter wade in over his ankles. wen I took orf my Sunday cloze and put on mi old ones i went owt into the barn and tride to talk owt sum black spots wot wos on the pig's hide, i used a currycomb and sum sandpaper wot wos laying arownd. but the dum beest only squeeled. gess he didn't want to be cleen. an mi how that animal kood devower stuff. He kood eet anything frum a rubber boot to a bubber root, whatever that is. i throo a pare of old overawls into his sty (i fownd them hanging in the barn), he ate them awl up and wen thay killed the pig and served him tu the bord- ers the latter komplaned of finding suspender-buttons in thare pork chops. then i climbed up onto the hay and jest as i was reetchin for a burdsnest I slipped an slid rite down into a big nest full of chicken eggs, i never saw such a drop in eggs before, as a commisshun merchant wood sav. the eggs didnt brake, only the shells came orf Maw sertinly had trubble with us children. Freddie tide a cow bell tu a lam's tale and the poor thing got so scared she ran into the next county and hasnt been seen since. Harold asked the bordin missus if he kood give the gold fish in the parlor sum cleen warter. She sed yes. But the cleen warter that Harold put in the globe was boiling hot and the poor fishes were boiled in abowt three (3) minnits. We had them for dinner abowt two Fridays afterwards wen the lady wot run the hows thort that the borders had forgotten the incident. I knew thay were the gold fish caws they left a sort of brassy tast in your mowth. we are sertinly having a grate time with the children — more to follow. • Your pupill, Wilfred. P. S. I am glad that skool is going to open up soon agen. IV. DEER TEETCHER : we are here now jest fore daze and alreddy sevral ot the children are on the injureil list. Buster has got lumps awl over him ware hornets kissed him. thay were either glad tu see him or got mad becaws he mistook thare nest for a big hickry nut and tride tu crack it with a crokay mallet. and Arty has a big Brews rite neer ware he hitches on his suspenders in the back. It happened as follows, tu wit : Arty tride tu slide down the mowntin oppersit our bordin hows on a pare of roller skates. He came down flying and wood have continued flying with reel wings and a harp if he hadnt landed onto a old cow hoo was grazing at the foot of the sed mowntin. wen Arty came too he tort it was the foot of the mowntin that had kicked him. the cow kicked almost as mutch as sum of the borders, thare was kinks in her milk for a hole week. Arty says the next time he goes roller skating on a mown- tin he's going to pick one owt that runs uphill and not downhill, his cloze were awl torn with rents in them awlmost as big as Nu York landlords are getting. we are coming hoam. the propryitor told Maw it wood be best if she borded her children until thay were 21 years old at the Elmira Infirmary or sum sutch plase. Maw sed she'd send for a descriptiv circular of the plase. the kuntry did us lots of good, i ganed 4 pownds, Henrietta 3, Maw 20 1-4. but Paw lost 225 — I think that's wot are bord bills amownted to. yu wont no me wen I get back tu skool as i am awl sun burnt, i look as if the cook had put me in the oven to roast and forgot to talk me owt. Your loving pupill, WILFRED. Wasted, A BOUT her waist he put his arm. '* She did not scream, siie did not shout, Or tremble with a wild alarm — She didn't even seem put out. She did not struggle or grow red. As one would naturally opine. (Right liere I tiiink it might be said Her waist Was hanging on the line.) REYNALE SMITH PICKERI.NG. Country Correspondence. m'cordsville. /^URT PUSEY is visiting his mother back of the slaugh- ^^ ter-house. He plays some sort of game around at county fairs in summer with three walnut-shells and a. little ball of printing-ink roller. His hands are stained up like he had been hulling walnuts, but he says it's from smoking so many cigarettes. Aunt Marthy Pusey and the ladies of the High-pressure Methodist church are much worked up over the loss of their quilting-frames. They were left at Mrs. Deacon Hossteter's house last fall, and tliey find that they have been used all winter for clothes-props. One of the sticks is gnawed clear off at the end, where the deacon used it to jab a suck-egg dog out of the barn. The blind man that has been here tuning Snodgrass's piano goes along the street and into Tom Hawk's Dewey saloon without missing the door. Everybody thought he did it by the smell till the gang out in front of Wils Sno- zier's grocer)- found a dent in the sidewalk that he steered by. 'Mandy Doins has left her place in the city and come back home. She says the family where she worked made her eat at the second table and wouldn't introduce her to their company. david gibson. OUR BASE-BALL MANAGER. He sits on the bench with anxious face ; His team stands second in the race. He's a rooter, and he wants first place. Ho ! for our hustling manager. There goes Lacey to the bat. Will he walk or fan or swat ? " S-t-r-i-k-e ! Say, umpire, got a rat ?'' Asks our scrappy manager. Good eye, there, old man ! Hit 'er stout I Yer off now, keddy ! Slide ! Not out! We'll win in a walk without a doubt. Woe ! for the other manager. NEEDFUL PREPARATIONS. " There, now, my will is made and I have that off my mind. The bureau-drawers are in order and the closet-shelves dusted. Tell Mary to be sure to make bread fresh twice a week and not to boil the coffee. II anything happens '^^E^^/! M li^fii/ SKYE SCRAPER tell my friends to forget my faults and remember only my virtues. 1 am thankful that the children are all large enough to live without me if they should be obliged to. Fetch me my cloak." Thus spake the Boston lady, nor did her household wonder when she explained herself : '■ I am going up town to do a little shopping, and I am afraid it will be necessary for me to pass up Tremont street. If there is no e.xplosion of gas from the subway I shall be back in an hour or two, or in time lor dinner." Penelope — "I doan' like dese yer green leabes as well as I does de autumn leabes, 'kase de autumn leabes is cullud." WHAT HE REALLY WAS AFTER. Store-keeper—" Did yew ride 'way in here jes' ter buy that gallon uv whisky, Abner ?" _ ABNER— "W'y. consarn yer hide. Silas ! yew orter knov I wouldn't leave my farm right in ther middle uv plantin' an' ride 'way m here jes ter buy a gallon uv whisky. I kem ter town ter-day pupuss ter buy my wife a spool uv w'ite cotten thread, an' gol daro my buttons ef I hadn t clean fergot all about that thread until you spoke." '?y c a HEAVY OCEAN SWELLS. A DIPLOMAT. " Which do you think is stronger. Mr. Fleecy — love or duty ?" asked the old maid. " It depends to a considerable extent. Miss Fading, on whether you live in New York or Chicago." OUT OF THE FRYING PAN INTO THE FIRE. Ill IK^;.., I. Cholly Counterpain, tired of the contin- uous rush at his bargain-counter, resolves to take a week off at the sea-side, thinking the change will do him good. PALPABLE CONTRADICTIONS. Triiaiet — " Ours is a very contradictory language." Dicer — " Go on." Triwet — " The term ' a sad dog ' usually means a particularly gay chap." Dicer — "It does; and when you say a man is a corker you really mean that he is an uncorker." JUDGMENT FROM MR. McGARVEY. Fray silver, is it } Shure. me b'y, yez '11 find it loike fray lunch whin yez hovn't th' proice av a drink. THE BUSINESS OUTLOOK. DocKSEY Ratz — " Ah, sir, I was once like you — rich, happy and contented. Could you spare me a few pennies, sir ?" Business man — " I'll give you all I've got left — twenty- five cents — if you'll tell me whether that water is warm enough to drown comfortably in." THERE ARE OTHERS. " I don't like such expressions as ' the glad hand,' ' the marble heart', and the like," said Mrs. -Cawker to her husband. " Well," replied Mr. Cawker, " wherein do they differ from such time-honored phrases as ' the cold shoulder,' y ' the hot tongue,' and ' the stony stare ' .'" With bated breath we wait to learn what the new man will say when a line full of wet clothes falls in the dirt. II. But finds himself the only man there, and fails to see just where the change comes in. -"J n as 5w ^ ft 3 D- If JJ - =• PI ^:^ y o^ o - — a o;^ P'l Olf^ Thusindas Lovc; a Fable that Ends Wron^ By James Edward Almond ,NCE upon a time there lived in the big house upon the hill a man and his wile and their golden-haired daugh- ter. And the daughter was fair of face and beautiful to look upon. And she lived on cherry-blossoms and marmalade and never had to darn her stockings or put the cat out at night. And she could have her dress cut on the bias or have three tucks on her right sleeve, just as she chose, and she never had to wear a gingham apron to Sunday-school or use a collar that the hired girl had worn the week be- fore. In fact, she had everything she wanted, but for all this she was not happy. Frequently when she would go to her trundle-bed at night she would weep bitter, salty tears as large as Cali- fornia cherries, and often at dinner she would have to refuse the third roasting-ear and go sadly from the table to her lonely retreat 'neath the willows by the brook. And as she watched it gayly babbling on, her heart was heavy and she wished she could be carried away with it out — out — out on to the broad and beautiful ocean, where she could take the water-cure and live happily ever after- ward. But, alas ! fate was against her, and her cruel father turned a deaf ear to her tender entreaties and ruthlessly shut the door in the very lace of her idol — George Wash- ington Barrington Barnes. And one day the cruel father and mother and the gen- tle little Thusinda were strolling along the lakeside watch- ing the beauties of the setting sun. But Thusinda's eyes were sad and she looked not at the setting sun nor yet at the new gold tooth her father had just had put in. For her thoughts were far away. And, as they were walking along, all of a sudden Thu- sinda's foot slipped and she was plunged headlong into the icy torrent before her excited parents could do aught. And as they stood there, seeing their only child drifting away from them, they were helpless and afraid. But, just as Thusinda was going down for the second time, out of the bushes rushed an heroic figure, and George Washington Barrington Barnes galloped bravely to the rescue. Ah ! how noble he looked as he strode along, and the hearts of the cruel parents were sore grieved at their conduct toward him. And just as Thusinda started for the bottom for the third time our hero had thrown himself into the current. Ah ! gentle reader, you no doubt can imagine him now as he manfully stems the raging waves. You see him grasping her firmly by her flowing locks, clasping her to his bosom and then returning to the shore to receive the plaudits of the assembled throng. But, alas ! as the appointed chronicler of the doings ot this family, I am honor bound to tell the truth, sad as it may seem. George Washington Burringfon Barnes couldn't swim a stroke. But he tumbled into the river, floundered around for a while, anil was finally fished out after Thusinda had been saved by a fisher lad who dwelt alone with his father and mother and fourteen brothers and sisters in a little cottage by the sea. And Thusinda married the fisher lad and soon learned to make corn-fritters and Graham bread. And G. W. B. Barnes drifted far away, and the last they heard of him he was on the stage playing the part of the watch-dog in "The Chambermaid's Revenge; or. Seven Years Under Water." Moral ; " Do you go on to the next block or is this where you change cars .'" The " Eye-rays." All sorts of alphabetical rays have now been discov- ered, but the newest and most powerlul are the " I-rays." — Exchange. IT'S hardly safe for one to say ' What science cannot do to-day ; Its triumphs come with such surprise They quite outdo all prophecies. The ''X-rays" open wonders hid, And others still do what they're bid ; Till now, in annals rich and rife. We almost see the scope of life. Yet, with the "Eye-rays," who can doubt. All previous wonders are put out ? But "new" — oh, no! — for I believe They backward date to Mother Eve. From her fair brow, with golden grace. They flashed on Adam's flurried face ; 'Twas they that caused the pair to sin And all the woes we've tumbled in. And now unnumbered Eves to-day Are sirens made by this bright ray ; And hints of our lost paradise Gleani in their winsome, witching eyes. What if they cause us woes untold. And care and sorrow manifold ? What if keen heart-aches they can deal ? For them, we like these hurts to feel. Who, if he is one-half a man. Would wish these potent rays to ban ? Without them life would soon grow dull. And nothing more seem beautiful. JOEL BENTON. The Cause of the Disturbance. The farmer (in the side-show, looking around in alarm) — " Gosh ! Where's all the rattlesnakes ?" The lecturer — "Don't be alarmed, mv friend. It's only our living skeleton, who is suffering from the ague, you hear." The Wron^ "Receipt" By W. D. Nesbit '37 RS. DUZZIT has at last discovered the difference between a " receipt " and a '• recipe," througli the ministrations of an obedient cook and a careless husband. At least, she blames it on her husband's carelessness, although he pleads inno- cence in that respect, but if feminine logic counts for anything, he merits the accusation. Mrs. Duzzit clipped a recipe for a new pudding from her magazine the other day and placed it under a book on the library table. Then she paid the grocer's bill and threw it with some other settled accounts in the drawer of the same table. Concluding one day to try the pudding, she said to Lucinda, the cook, as she was mapping out the dinner, " You go up to the library and tell Mr. Duzzit to give you that new receipt I left about the library table. I am going shopping and may not get back until dinner is ready, but all you need to do is to use just the proportion of ingredients given in the receipt, and then we'll see whether that new pudding is as good as the magazine promised it would be." " Yassum," said the obedient Lucinda. Mrs. Duzzit left, and Lucinda went to the libraiy. " Please, suh," she remarked, " I des wants dat receipt Missus Duzzit done lef hyah." " What receipt .'" askeil Mr. Duzzit. " De one whut tell 'bout all dem t'ings I's got ter put in dat new puddm'. She say she put hit on de lib'ry table." Mr. Duzzit tossed the papers about, peered into the drawers, and finally handed Lucinda a slip which seemed to be what she wanted. About half an hour later Lucinda rapped softly on the door of the library and apologetically said, " 'Scuse me, suh, but mus' I use all des hyah tings whut dis hyere papuh sez ter use ?" " Sure thing," answered Mr. Duzzit. " Do just as Mrs. Duzzit said you should." Lucinda returned to her kingdom mumbling about the peculiarities of tne white folks, and for the next two hours she was busy hunting all over the kitchen and pantry for the necessary articles for the pudding. At dinner she carried the pudding in on the largest tray in the house, and deposited it on the serving-table with an air which said that she washed her hands of all conse- quences. " What is that, Lucinda ?" asked her mistress. " De puddin'." •• The pudding ? Goodness gracious ! I never dreamed it would be that big. You may help us to some of it, though." When Mr. Duzzit's portion was placed before him he scanned it critically, sniffed suspiciously, and turned it gingerly over with his spoon. Mrs. Duzzit, however, had the courage which comes from an implicit faith in the culinary page, and she tried a spoonful. " Mercy !" she cried. " Why, Lucinda, what in the world have you put in this ?" " Nufifin' 'cept whut de receipt said ter use," avowed Lucinda. " Hum," mused Mr. Duzzit. " It must be a funny recipe." " Well," asserted Mrs. Duzzit, " I never saw such a looking affair before in all my life. Lucinda, you surely have made a mistake in mixing it." " Deed, I hasn't," stoutly answered the cook. " I done use eve'yt'ing des lak de papuh said." " Did they offer a cash prize to any one who would eat the pudding ?" inquired Mr. Duzzit. " Because, if they did, I am about to miss an opportunity to enrich myself, for 1 must deprive myself of the extreme pleasure of tac- kling this compound." " I des gib mah two weeks' notice raight now," an- nounced Lucinda. " Yo'-all de fust white folks whut say day won't eat mah cookin', en I know whah dey plenty er quality folks dat glad ter hab me in dey kitchen. En I gwine raight out en fotch in dat receipt, en yo' see fo' yo'se'fs dat I des use whut hit say ter use." Lucinda retreated to the kitchen in sable dignity, and returned solemnly, bearing the " receipt," which read : " H. E. Duzzit to I. Feedam, Dr, " One can corn, lo cents ; one box shoe polish, 5 cents ; six candles, 15 cents ; two pounds rice, 10 cents ; two bars washing-soap, 9 cents ; i cake yeast, i cent ; bottle olive oil, 25 cents ; one-half peck potatoes, 20 cents ; one mackerel, 18 cents ; three pounds prunes, 45 cents ; ten pounds salt, 10 cents ; six packages flower seed, 30 cents ; one feather-duster, 35 cents. Paid." " Dah 't is," said Lucinda. " Dah 't is. En dey all in dat ole puddin' 'ceptin' de han'le er dat (eatheh dusteh, en' blame' 'f I knows how ter wuk hit in whenst I's stirrin' up all dat otheh trash. En ef yo'-all lak dat kin' er puddin", den yo' betteh git some otheh lady ter ten' ter de cookin' fo' yo', "ca'se I ain't use' ter hit." But Mr. Duzzit soberly took his wife by the arm, led her to the library, took down the big dictionary, and pointed out the words " receipt " and " recipe " and their definitions. Her Last Argument. C"HE wished to move from the distant suburb into the roaring midst of Gotham. She had plied all her re- sources in argument, but Younghusband was still uncon- vinced. Then, with woman's wit, a last, compelling idea occurred. " And, dear, you know then the two-cent morning paper would only cost us a cent." Then they began to pack the dishware. yn ON THE SHELF. ^OOR Florence ! she's left youth behind ! And ah ! too well she shows it; For now when Easter comes to mind, Where is the one who knows it? Yet I can well remember when She lovers had a-plenty. ©f course she wasn't thirty then, But just turned two-and- twenty. THE NEW STYLE. "You are not up to the Style in Easter-hat jokes this year, Mr. Snickers," said the editor, after look- fag over some of the humorist's manuscripts. " I'm afraid I don't gather your meaning, sir." " It is simply this. Your Easter-hat jokes are built after the old model, while this year it is imperative that Easter-h« witticisms shall be birdless ones." A SMALL ETERNITY. Amanda (alighting from her wheel at the roadside, where Mortimore awaits her) — "Have I kept you waiting long, dear?" Mortimore — "Long ? Many cycles have passed since the hour appointed for our Hieeting." THE DANGERS OF TRAVEL. First TRAMP (sttaling ride on flat form) — "Say, pard, I reckin dere's somethin' like five hundred ban els uv water in de tank uv dat tender." Second tramp — "Great hevins ! supposin' dere wuz ter be a kolishun an' de t'ing shud tip an" spill it all over us ?" A DEEP MYSTERY. Bridget (alone in the kitchen, closely scrutinizing the colander) — "Shure, an' Oi'd loike t' know how wan can till th' days an' months wid th' loikes av thot." HEAVY SACRIFICE. "What sacrifice are you making for Lent this year.'" asked Mrs. Hampack of Mrs. Livewayte. '■ I have decided not to get a divorce this spring, but to devote the money it would cost to the endowment of a bed in a hospital." little.' NOT MUCH. " So you do think a little of Miss Daisy ?" 'Oh, yes, Mr. Softly; very CONCLUSIONS TO DRAW. Boy {on left) — " That's Daisy Hooligan, the bride of a month. Her husband told her ter go ter the devil, an' she's a-goin' 4* her mother. ?3f '. fJu . < 1 \ A TIMELY WORK. O, I don't want any books to= day," she said as she caught sight of the book-agent. " I am not an ordinary book- agent, ma'am. I am perform- ing a great service to the com- munity by the work I am doing." "What is that?" " I am taking orders for a small volume which gives the pronunciation of Cuban towns and of Scotch dialect words." " I'll take a copy." 't^^^ HIS LIFE IN HIS HANDS. Casey — " Run fer yure loife, Clancy !" Clancy — " What fer ? Oi hov it wid me." PAPA'S OPINION. Tommy — " What kind of a store is th<»u one, papa, where they have three-colored glass jars in the window ?" Papa — " That's an apothecary shop, Tom- my." Tommy — " And that place next door to it that has three balls in front of it ?" Papa (with a sigh) — " Oh, that's a hy- pothecary shop, Tommy !" ON AN IOWA GRAVESTONE. Here lies the body of Nicholas Biddle, Whose natural long life was cut off in the middle. A WISE SELECTION. Farmer Jones — "Yep, that's my second wife. Yer see, ther last one was carried off in the cyclone, an' I thought I'd git one this time that would stay right here at home, no matter how hard it blew." ESTABLISHING A PRECE- DENT. Niece — " Do you think it is proper to typewrite the signature. Aunt Hul- dah ?" Atmt Huldah — " Oh, I don't think it makes any difference, child." Niece — " Then you think I may sign my name to this letter with the type- writer ?" Aunt Huldah — " You might, so they can read it." Niece — " But you told me some time ago that the signature should always be written with pen and ink." Aimi Huldah — " Did I ? Well, then, if I said so it must be so, niece." Peace, wid now an' thin a foight, is a foine thing. THE SAME THING. Spokesman (of committee) — " Yo' said in yo'r suhmon las' Sunday, pahson, dat dar , wouldn't beenny cuUud pussons in heaben." Parson — "No, breddren. Whad I said wuz dat pussons wif chicken-stealin* propenserties couldn't git toe heaben." Spokesman — " Adzackly ; but while de phrasyology am diff'rent de sentiment am de same." Seven Ages of Woman By William MacLeod Raine I. ONE of the most charming social events of the week was a luncheon given last Tuesday by Mrs. Richard K. Enderby in honor of the com- ing out of her daughter, Vivian Fay. The table decoration consisted of white chrysan- themums and maiden-hair ferns. Covers were laid for twelve. Those present are all closely connected socially and will probably see much of each other in the future. The guests were : Mr. Richard L. Pearson Mr. Reginald Duprez Fortescue Mr. James Lanthorp Gordon Mr. Robert Manderson Mr. Amos Follansbee Mr. Roland Oliver Miss Rose Heathcote Miss Elizabeth Merrill Miss Carol Dewey Miss Mabel Dewey Miss Pauline Pearson Miss Marie Artibel (From the News, January i, 1900). II. Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby announce the engagement of their daughter Vivian Fay to Mr. Richard L. Pearson February i, 1900. III. Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby beg to announce the termination of the engagement of their daughter, Vivian Fay, to Mr. Richard L. Pearson. April 16, 1900. IV. The engagement of Miss \'ivian Fay Enderby, the well-known society bud, to Mr. Robert Manderson has been informally announced. — (Society column, the Times, April 27, 1900.) The rumor of the engagement of Miss Vivian Fay Enderby, the most charming and popular of this season's debutantes, to the well-known clubman, Mr. Robert Man- derson, has been authoritatively denied by her father, Richard K. Enderby. — (Issue of April 30th, 1900, of the News.) V. Reginald Duprez Fortescue Vivian Fay Enderby Married Tuesday, July twenty-eighth Chicago, Illinoi? 1900 At Home after September i 1900 Hotel Metropole Chicago, 111. VI. Mr. and Mrs. Richard K. Enderby request your presence at the divorce of their daughter Vivian Fay from Mr. Reginald Duprez Fortescue and her immediate subsequent marriage to Mr. James Lanthorp Gordon at the home of her parents, 1833 Michigan Avenue High noon, March twenty-ninth 1902 Admission to court-house by inclosed ticket only. [An interval of four years is here omitted in the busy life of Mrs. James Lanthorp Gordon, who becomes suc- cessively Mrs. Roland Oliver, Mrs. Amos O. Follansbee and "formerly" Mrs. Amos 0. Follansbee by the aid of the courts.] VII. Among the most interesting social functions jf the week was a divorcee's dinner, at which the hostess was the charming Mrs. Amos O. Follansbee. This interesting young society woman, whose recent spicy divorce from her fourth husband created such an interest in society, presided with her usual gracious tact and sparkling wit at a tablf where sat twelve couples of society divorcees. Among those present were Messrs. Reginald Duprez For- tescue, James Lanthorp Gordon, Roland Oliver, and Amos O. Follansbee, all of whom have in times past had the honor of lending their names for a brief period to their hostess of this occasion. The tables were handsomely decorated with forget-me-nots and rosemary (" that's for remembrance "). At each plate was a beautiful souvenir, consisting of a miniature copy of a decree of divorce delicately edged with hand-painted orange-blossoms, a sweet and signifi- cant suggestion as to future happiness. The occasion was a most enjoyable one, abounding in piquant <-eminis- cence and fond memories. The affair was strictly a family one, every guest being connected by former mar- riage directly or indirectly to the rest of those present. Before speeding her guests to their hotels the hostess sang with sweet pathos the old Scotch song, " Should auld acquaintance be forgot ?" Made the Sale. (( I DON'T care if it is one of the very newest things from Paris," said the woman who was shopping for an Easter bonnet. " It is entirely too high-priced, and besides, it is the most hideous pattern and positively the most untastefully trimmed bonnet in the store." " Yes, miss," cooed the saleslady ;" but think what a contrast it will make with vour face 1" 3^. A NEEDED INVENTION. I wish the electric scientists Would go just one step higher And fix it so the message-boys Could be dispatched by wire. FORCE OF IMAGI- NATION. Short-sighted g tt e st (to hotel-clerk) — " I was chilled to the bone. What a blessing these registers are !" Clerk — " Excuse me, sir; but that's a perforated mat you're standing on." > JUDGMENT FROM MR, McGARVEY. Love —ah, bejakers ! that's th' only thing thot makes hot wither in th' winter. THE UNDERTAKER'S COMPLAINT. " I see that another under- taker has opened an establish- ment near yours, Mr. Graves," said Spudkins. "Yes," replied Mr. Graves dolefully. -There isn't business DECISION HANDED DO'WN. enough for one, either. I made the mistake of opening in a most There is a movement in the straw-stacks. The hobo pro- disgustingly healthy part of the city, and now comes a rival. cession is about to start. Live and let live is my motto, but it doesn't seem to be his." HEROISM REWARDED. RoSENBAU.M {fervently, to the life-saver') — " Ach ! mine frent — mine noble frent — you haff saved mine dear unt only vife from a vatery grave ; bud I vill reward you — I vill amply reward you. Rachel, led der shentleman kiss vou righd on der mout'." ? A DISTINCTIOiSr. Husband — " Ah, have you been shopping, my dear?" Wife {{"'patiently) — " Why, of course not, stupid. Can't you see I've been trapesing all over town buying things?" HIS LITTLE GAME. BHEA.R in the twitter of birds her soi.j- ; t hear her step in the rustling grass ; Her laugh in the evening breeze, and I long To see ray Margaret pass. For I hold a hand that is fair to see. And a flash of hope through my being darts That she'll turn it down, and leave it to me For a march by making it hearts. KNEW HIS BUSINESS. " Who is that man who is explaining ail about the correct use of the bicycle?" " Oh, he's one of our inost prominent experts." " Ah, an expert rider?" " No — er — an expert talker." It's th' eart' thot do look as fiat now as whin 'twas made round, an' moind yez, me b'y, 'tain't round loike an orange • 'tis round loike a peraty. A NEW CURE. Brown — "What the deuce is the matter? You look as though you were a prisoner in your own house.' Smith — " I find by reading the census reports that prisons are the healthiest places in the country, because of the mode of life ; and not feeling well, I thought I'd trv if: at home." SHALLOW W.\TER. Smith — " Watch, Jones II. -and I'll show- HE STILL HAS HOPE. * ■ I am not al- together hopeless." It was the prince of Wales who was communing with himself. " It is true that I am getting well along in life, still it is said that into every iife some reign must fall." Absence makes the heart grow fonder — of the other fellow. NOT RIGHT. " What did Lushley say when told of his removal as president of the club ?" "He didn't deny the charges ; said he'd rather b« tight than be president." MIXED. Acior (to dramatist) — " How did your new play come on?" Dramatist (to actor) — "Th* critics gave it such a roasting that it panned out a regular frost. Got snowed under." CASUALS. A man with a history — The book-agent. Contemplating matrimony — The guest at the wedding. IV. clean dive !" He Fixed It '^^3 /^NCE there was a wise actor who was cast for an in- ^ tensely furmy part. Especially was it meant to be funny in one scene, where his wife — the supposed wife of the character he represented — her mother, her maiden aunt, her two sisters, and a crusty uncle informed him in unison, " Unless you mend your ways we shall leave your house forever." In the action of the piece these six char- acters were grouped at one side of the stage, while he had all the rest of it to himself. He was to be seated in a Morris chair near a small table, on which were bottles, siphons of soda, and cigars, together with some flashy photographs. When they made their combined threat his speech was, " I don't care." Although the wise actor put into the speech all the subtle humor he was capable of, somehow it fell flat. Here was a crisis. The movement of the entire play centred about this point. It was to be the ape.x of all the amusement i n the drama. Yet, beyond a few giggles, it did not get a hand. Something had to be done. A conference of the wise actor, the stage-man- ager, the com- pany manager and the author was called. The stage - manager advocated cutting out the line entirely and putting in a ballet movement and a dissolving view. The company manager confessed that he was up a tree. The author suggested that the line be amplified to " I really don't care what you do." This was voted down immediately. Then the wise actor spoke up. " Now, let me fix that line. I have had twenty years' experience with audiences, and I think I know what will make them laugh when all else fails. Give me full swing for just one performance, and if I don't bring em up standing then I'll be willing to retire from the cast anH let you choose another man for my part." This seemed all fair and right, so the others agreed. That night there was a crowded house. All went well, the quiet humor of the play being listened to approv- ingly, the audience apparently reserving itself for the New York merchant — those goods strictly spot cash." Philadelphia buyer — " Well, excuse me days ' is ' spot cash' in Philadelphia." climax which it knew was being brought about. At last the wife, her mother, her maiden aunt, her two sisters, and her crusty uncle, after a passage of words which lifted the expectations of the audience to the highest pitch, struck their attitudes at the prompt side and chor- used, " Unless you mend your ways we shall leave your house forever." Tlie wise actor waited a second. He had the audience with him. It was hanging on the thread of anticipation. He could feel the current of tense expectation. The mo- ment was his. He knew what the audience wanted. Turning lazily in his chair, he drawled, " I don't give a damn !" Pandemoni- um broke loose, and the audi- ence shrieked, howled and wept with laughter. The play could not go on for ten minutes, and the speech came near hav- ing to be given in an encore. "There were six curtain-calls at the end of the act, and the fu- ture of the play was assured. This teaches us that authors know what the actors want and actors know what the public wants. W. D. NESBIT. Its Effect. « I SUPPOSE Jim Ka- ftipper is well on the high road to success, since he has •inished reading all those books on how to achieve pros- perity," said the mutual friend. ■' \Vell, hardly," replied the other. " Didn't his studies have any effect on him ?" " Yes ; but they seem to have worked the wrong way." " How's that ?" " Instead of getting out and hustling, he sits around all the time, telling the rest of us why we have failed in life." SWIFT. Pardon me ; I guess you didn't understand that we sell but I thought you knew that ' thirty Ot linger — ' duelist." Henriques- Ottinger — ' chauffeur." Chauffeur versus Duelist. "There goes Count Nodough, the famous — " Did he ever kill any one ?" " Not until recently, when he became a ■y ^ -z S \n ~3(l<^' William Mashc (With apologies to a certain well-known woman writerj By William J. Lampton he said in a low voice, ILLIAM MASHE was sitting in front of his writing-table staring at the floor, his hands hanging before him, when the door opened and shut. He turned. There, with her back to the door, stood Catty. Her aspect startled- him to his feet. She looked at him, trembling — her little face haggard and white. "William!" She put her hands to her breast as though to support herself. Then she flew forward. " William — husband — I have done nothing wrong — nothing — nothing. Look at me." He sternly put out his hand, protecting himself. '• Where have you been ?" and with whom ?" Catty fell into a chair and burst into wild tears. There was silence for a few moments except for the little woman's ■ crying. " It's cruel to keep me waiting, Catty," he said at length, with obvious difficulty. '• I sent you a telegram this morning." The voice was choked and passionate. " I never got it. Where were you ?" he said, insistent. She looked up. She saw the handsome, good-natured face transformed. She began to twist and torment her handkerchief as Mashe had seen her do once before. " I suppose you want me to tell you my story ?" she said, turning upon him suddenly. All Catty in the words. Her frankness, her daring, and the impatient, realistic tone she was apt to impose upon emotion — they were all there. Mashe walked up and down the room. " Tell me your part in it," he said. " I went with Jeffrey Bluff," she began defiantly. " I guessed as much," Mashe smiled cynically. " He said he had something to read to me," she went on, hesitating, but not afraid ; " and it would be delicious to go on the river for the day, and come back by train at night. I had a horrid headache — it was so hot here — and you were at the office (her lip quivered), and I wanted to hear Jeffrey read his poems, and so — and so we missed the train (she flushed deeply) ; but I tell you I did nothing wrong. Do you believe me ?" she cried in a passion of appeal. Their eyes met in challenge of shock and reply. "These things are not to be asked between you and me," he said with vehemence, as he held out his hand. She just touched it proudly. " Finish your story," he said. It was brief. There were no more trains ; no convey- ance was obtainable in the little hamlet ; she had re- mained at a cottage with a woman living there and had taken the first train in the morning. " I never slept," she added piteously. " I got up at eight for the first train, and now I feel (she fell back in her chair desolately with shut eyes) as if I should die." Mashe came to her and took her hand in his. "This is no time to die," he said, with kind firmness. " It is the time to live and redeem yourself and— and me. You have done no wrong in the sight of God— the God of the bible— but gossip is the god of society and you have transgressed the law. Not this time only, but often in lesser things. It must all stop, Catty— stop ; do you hear me }" She looked at him, and the rebellious light glittered in her dark eyes. " Your name and my name, our children and the names of all our people are imperiled by your conduct with this Jeffrey Bluff". He has nothing to lose and you have everything. Think, Catty, what are you doing ?" " It is so hard to think," she said wearily. " And harder to bear the results of your thoughtless- ness," he urged upon her. "You can stop it if you will, dear ; try," he pleaded. " Send the man away and see him no more." " But, William " she began. "I know what you would say, ' he interrupted; "he fascinates you by his very wickedness." She nodded. Mashe, looking at her. saw a curious shade of every, a kind of dreamy excitement, steal over her face. He shuddered, but held fast to his purpose. " For weeks," he went on slowly, " you have been the talk of the town— you and Jeffrey Bluff — and me. " You ?" she queried with an odd lifting of the tiny brows. " Yes, me — your husband." "What do they say of you, pray— you, the pink of domestic perfection .'" she laughed. " They say I am a fool, or a coward, or both," he cried in an agony of shame and love. " William !" and the tender, loving, frivolous little sprite that she was, was all expressed in the word. " It is true," he said ; " we— you and I— are the one choice bit the gossips are rolling under their tongues. Our enemies first, and now even our friends, are talking. Catty. They can't help it. You thrust it upon them, and they talk in self-defense." "Well, I don't care," she said, with a defiant toss of her head. " They cannot say I have doi^ anything wrong. They can only say I do not act as they think I should act. I despise their conventionalities." "And they will soon begin to despise us. Catty," he argued, helpless to convince. She snapped her little fingers defiantly, so weak to jrasp her duty, so strong to hold fast to her own vvill- falness. " I wouldn't exchange JetTrey BUitT for all of them," she cried, throwing out her arms in wide defiance. " And me ?" he questioned. " I have you." She wound her soft arms about his neck and looked into his eyes as no other woman had ever looked into them. He smiled and kissed her. ■' Well," he said, gently disengaging himself and plac- ing her in a chair as though she were a child, '■ you may think as you please about Bluff and all the rest of it, but if I were a woman I'll be damned if I would be stuck on any man who said I was a frowsy little bunch, and my clothes didn't fit and he could lead me around bj; the nose as he pleased." Her eyes flashed. All the feminine instincts rose in riotous rebellion. She grew hot and cold by turns. She bit her lips till the blood came. She drove her sharp nails into her pink palms. " Did he say that ?" she demanded passionately. " He wrote it in a letter to Mary Blister," he replied, handing her the letter. She took it trembling. The spell of the man over her was strong even in his writing. She read the letter slowly. " I'll never spe.ik to him again," she said, tearing the fatal testimony to shreds. And she didn't. A Broken Home <( VES ; my home is broken up," sighed the distressed indi- vidual, whose haggard air and disheveled raiment indicated great mental perturbance. " Broken up ?" queried the friend to whom he was talking. " Yes," was the rueful answer. •• It came on us like a blow from the clouds, too." '• It must have. Do you mind telling me -vhat caused it ? " " It was the butcher's boy." "What! the butcher's boy ? Did he entice her away from you ?" " Yes. " The distressed individual acquires a deeper coating of gloom. " But, man, where were your eyes ? Did you not sus- pect anything ?" " Why should I suspect anything ? She had always seemed perfectly satisfied and contented." " It is too bad that you did not discover it sooner. You might have reasoned with her." " Oh, you know how a woman is when it comes to listening to reason." "Yes ; but, then, I always thought your wife " ■• My wife .'" " Why, yes. She has always impressed me as a sensi- ble woman until this shocking occurrence." " What's my wife got to do with it ? She couldn't help it." " But didn't you say the butcher-boy had broken up your home ?" " Of course I did." •• Well, why didn't you speak to your wile about it be- fore she had permitted his attentions to go too far ?" " My wife didn't know anything of it until some time after she had gone." •• You don't tell me ! Did he hypnolize her ?" " Hypnotize who ?" the man asked in surprise. " Why, your wife, of course." " My wife never saw him that I know of.' "What are you saying ? Didn't you just tell me that th; butcher's boy had blasted your life and blighted your home ? And now you say your wife never saw him. How- could the boy carry on a clandestine love-affair with her " " Easy enough. He came to the kitchen for the order every morning." " But I don't get it at all. Are you going to try to get your wife back, or will you sue for a divorce ?" " A divorce ? What's the matter with you ?" " Well, of course, old man, it's honorable and generous of you, and all that ; but when a man's wife so far tor- gets herself as to elope with a butcher's boy I think he is perfectly justified in " " Look here ! are you crazy ? My wife wasn't mixed up in this at all. That blasted butcher's boy got my cook to marry him." Then the sympathizing friend had to help him drown some more of his sorrow. Little Girl Green and Little Boy Blue. LITTLE Girl Green and Little Boy Blue Thought more of eacli other the older they grew ; One cared for the corn and one cared for the sheep, And their scant weekly wages they never coult' keep. Quite often together they stealthily came (And who that is human this happening could blame?). Though loving the landscape and blue sky above, They tried to (but could not) help falling in love. Now Little Girl Green was a damsel more sweet Than — going through thirty-five counties — you'd meet, And Litde Boy Blue, of our good Mother Goose, For loving her fondly had ample excuse. Both lived out of doors, near the sheep and the corn. And when Little Boy Blue did not toot on his horn, Both he and his girl, as it made no expense. Would court, and throw kisses each side of the fence. But. why should they not ? 'Tis quite certain that you And I. so surrounded, the same thing would do ; For, the tides of the sea and the planets above Have no such propulsion as promptings of love. Oi course, as it seemed the one thing to be done, A marriage soon followed, and made them both one. With roses, refection, and games and gay laughter. And all things conspiring to joy ever after ! joel bektok. ■Bcp D AS HE LIVED. HE machinery of the big mill stopped with a sudden and hor- rible jar and jerk, and the work- men pulled out the crushed and bleeding form of one who was a stranger to them all. " Are you badly hurt," in- quired one. " I fear that I am," groaned the unknown. " I'm dying." ".Shall we send for your friends .' Quick, tell us your name." "Oh, never mind," he answered. "I am all alone in the world, and my name doesn't matter. Just say that I died in- cog." .And a gri i smile illumined his face as the spirit of the prokssional humorist took its flight with his last supreme effort. 3? A RIO-GRANDE RUSE. Shorty (anefrily) — "Consamyer, Dave! yer tolt me this crick could be forded easily — thet it wuz only up ter th' waist." Long Dave — " Wa-al, w'ot yer kickin' 'bout? Did yer think I wuz goin' inter details wi' yer, an' say whose waist it wuz only up ter ?" FRESH SCAN- DAL. VVzlh'a m A n n — "What's the news down at Asbury Park ?" Bradleyile —" Some of the first young women in town have been discovered going to prayer-meeting without a chaperon." DECISIONS HANDED DOWN. The impulsive man would make money* by walking backward. The man who starts out to woo fortune finds few leap-years. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. Colonel Kentuck {tiot knowing there had been a Jlood in the vicinity) — " Who'd think there wuz derned fools thet squander money on watuh !" THE LYING DENTIST. Henrique — " I believe Dr. Quicklime is the champion liar of Dewittville. The stories he tells are something astonish- ing." Pennbroke — " You evidently have not known Dr. Q. for any length of time." Henrique — " No, not very long. But he is a veritable conversational dentist." Pennbroke—" Conversational dentist ? How is that ?" Henrique — " Why, he is a regular professional truth-puller." The supreme human achievement is self-mastery. Little Miss Peachly thought a bathing-suit made of clinging China silk would be very effective it clung ! -but the trouble was that after the first dip Z 5 ^ J, a > S- c s p Z ■s ^ o 2 p. I— a. .__- jj ^ OJ O w - £ Jr = p on - ._ AN APRIL-FOOL IDYL. EXPECTATION. SHE rode within the trolley, No one beside her sat, When in the door came ChoUy; Was anything more pat ? REALIZATION. He paused beside her, smiling; He surely would sit down. She looked at him beguiling — 'Twas full a mile to town. DESPERATION. Alas ! he passed beyond her The full length of the car; Then knew she he was fonder Of that mean thing, Lou Barr. TO Bli SURE! Mrs. Peck — " Here's a law- suit in Kentucky because a man refused to pay for bury- ing his wife. She didn't live with him. If that isn't the queerest case !" Henry Peck — "I don't see as it was so queer, Nancy. Why should a man want to bury his wife if she didn't lire with him.?" TOO FAR. He — " They have 5(/? VV^.. carried these musicals so far that it is positive torture to hsten to them." 5A^— " Yes; there are some people who believe they are a whole orchestra, simply because they have a drum in their ear." LOOKING FORWARD. Mrs. Kerrigan {softly') — " Oi heard yer hoosband wuz doyin', Mrs. Flynn, so Oi thought Oi'd bring him round this bit uv oice. Th' poordivil moight ez well enjoy oice whoile he kin." AT THE BANK. Clerk — "This thousancU dollar package counts only nine hundred and fifty. Whaf shall I do?" Cashier — "Tell Jones to count it." Clerk (ten minutes later) — "Jones makes it nine hun- dred and seventy. Shall I report it to the president ?" Cashier — "I guess not. Tell Jones to keep on count- ing." THE EASTER VARIETY. The speckled hen stands on one leg. She's thinking lots and lots. She wonders if she laid the egg That's full of polka-dots. NEARLY SHORN. " I had a close shave," said the little lambkin. " Gracious, child ! What was it?" asked the mother. " I just ran against a razor- back hog." FEMININE SUPERSTI- TION. Miss Wiggins — " Do you really think that women are superstitious about Friday ?" Mr. Higgins — " Certainly. If Robinson Crusoe had been a woman that black valet would have been called Thursday." 1^1 1 A DIFFICULT QUESTION. Kelly— ■' No, Murphy, yez can niver be prisidint of the United Shtates." MURPHY (««at^fl«//v)— "And phy not?' Kelly — " Because yez wuz bom in Oireland," Murphy—" Thrue fer yez; but if Oi should decoide to run for the prisidincy how the divil could they iver prove thot?" -^^ ^ Algy — ' ' Y Clarence retained all th'e BirtwJiistle- Deivsyiap — ' buv mv wife a PARTIALLY KETUKXED. ou say she only partially returned your affection ?" — " Yes ; and that's what I'm kicking about. She returned all the love-letters, but jewelry." NO CASH LEFT. , — •' Going to have a yacht this year ?" ' Xo ; I sha'n't have the price. I have had to yachti ng-cost u me.' ' MR MORBID. \VISH I were a coroner. For one of my delights Would be like him to gaze upon Such lovely horrid sights FROM JUDGE'S DICTIONARY. Machete — An instru- ment of freedom, destined to sever the last link bind- ing the Spaniard to the new world. Date — Definite points of time which most peo- ple can remember tolera- bly until they are placed on the witness-stand. Gamble ^'Wie. pursuit of games of chance which is now frequently invested with an air of respectabil- ity by the stock exchanges of metropolitan cities. It consists principally in squandering the money you win and worrj'ing over that you lose. The only successful gambler is he whose profits are assured before he begins to play. Antiquity — A time which produced many men who were great because they had the first say on most matters. And who. if they happened to be right, are glorified for their jv.nnio • -tg^^ \i ii.-1-f.r.j^^ ly^H for thcit simpHcity. fr- A SOL.\R EXPOSE As ChoUy beacher "cstaticallv surveyed Miss .\nngular's sylph like figure he voted her a dream ; but a moment later, when the sun x-rayed those thin sleeves his dream turned into a nightmare and he .voke up ! 3i- / The Jealousy of Alexander Being the Tragic Tale of a Lovelorn and Desperate Crow. By Ed Mott TOUSIN Marcellus Merriweather dropped in on Uncle David Beck- endarter's folks for a little visit ag'in, t'other day," said Solomon Cribber, fresh over to the Corners with the news from Pochuck, " and after Uncle David had locked his blue-paper smokin' terbacker in the closet, and Aunt Sally had told Cousin Marcellus to go out in the wood-shed to take off his gum- shoes. Uncle David says to him, " ' Well,' he says, ' anyhow, you kin help us to git shet o' them pesky crows that's gettin' all ready to dig up our corn soon as we put it in. I'm jest fixin' to soak some corn in p'ison to scatter 'round fer 'em to stuff theirselves with, and you mowt take the old shot-gun and go down and hide behind the cornfield fence and whang one now and then as they come nosin' around. You kin do as much as that, I s'pose ? You've got push enough in you to lay behind a fence and shoot crows if they light on a stake nigh enough to you, hain't you ?' says Uncle David. " ' Uncle David,' says Cousin Marcellus, ' I wouldn't kill a crow ; not fer money ! No, sir !' says he ; ' not fer yoar hull farm !' " Uncle David give setch a start when he heerd this that he most upsot the kittle o' p'ison water he was soakin' the corn in to dose the crows with, and Aunt Sally jest put her hands on her hips and stared at Cousin Marcellus as if she wa'n't exac'ly sure whether she was goin' deef or whether Cousin Marcellus was crazy. But she soon see that it wa'n't her a-goin' deef, and she says to Cousin Marcellus, with a sort of a sniff, " 'Then I s'pose you're goin' to object to me goin' out and killin' a chicken fer dinner ?' she says. " But Cousin Marcellus he looked up quick and says, '"No, no, no!' he says; 'not a ding bit of it !' he says. " Then Uncle David, he got an idee in his head, and it het him all up, and he turned on Cousin Marcellus fierce, and says, •' ' Do you mean tp say,' says he, ' that my hull farm ain't worth as much as a ding thievin' crow ?' says he. " Then Cousin Marcellus got on t'other side o' the table pooty quick, and he says, '"Great Gabriel's horn, Uncle David!' he says; 'I didn't mean noth/n' o" the kind ! Set down ! set down ! he says, ' and let me tell you. ' " Uncle David sot down, shakin' his head and grum- biir,' consider'ble, and Aunt Sally brung in Cousin Mar- cellus's gum-shoes from the wood shed and thumped 'em down on the floor in front of him toler'ble positive, but didn't say nothin' further than that. Then Cousin Mar- cellus he sot down ag'in, and says, " ' You see, Uncle David and Aunt Sally,' he says, ' the trouble is, you hain't looked into the crow only as to his bein' a thief He's a thief, that's so, but so is the feller that steals your chickens. You mowt know the feller, but you wouldn't feel like takin' your shot-gun and killin' him. Why ? 'Cause that'd be murder. And if you knowed the crow in all of his bearin's like I do, \ou'd jest as soon go out and pop over the feller that had stole a chicken out o' your coop as you would to pop over a crow. A crow wdl I'arn to talk as glib as a lightnin'-rod peddler. You know that, -don't you ?' says Cousin !\Iar- cellus. "Uncle David said he'd heerd so, and made the p'ison in the hot water a leetle stronger, and chucked in another handful o' corn to soak ; and Aunt Sally kicked the gum- shoes a little nigher to Cousin Marcellus. He didn't seem to notice it, though, and by and by he says, " ' When I was livin' with Potiphar Juggins, up on the old Passadanky, Potiphar's boy Joe found a young crow in the woods one day that had been tumbled out of its nest by the wind. He brung it home, and that crow let tself be riz by hind jest as willin' as if it had an idee there wa'n't no other way fer crows to be riz. And as he growed, the way that crow I'arned to talk was amazin'. And yit he wa'n't a feller that'd throw his talk around loose amongst folks, either, bein' solemn and retirin' in his natur'. He liked the horses, and the way he could holler out " G'lang, g'lang ! Geedap, g-e-e-dap, there !" and click to 'em to make 'em start or hurry up, was a caution to stage-drivers. And he partic'lerly liked to holler out to me, " Hullo, Marcellus ! How's Polly Ann ?" He seemed to like to holler that partic'ler.' " Aunt Sally she shoved the gum-shoes a leetle nigher, and Uncle David stirred up the p'ison soak till it most slopped over. Cousm Marcellus sol a while, and then he says, '• ' They named the crow Alexander, that bein' an idee o' Potiphar's boy Joe, 'cause he said the crow was so overpowerin' great ; and what do you 'spose was the rea- son he was always hollcrin' to me, " How's Polly Ann ?" I'll tell you. Polly Ann was young Sam Niver's wife, and she was as pooty as a pictur'. Sam druv team fer Poti- phar, and Polly Ann done the kitchen work, and the rea- son why Alexander was always askin' me about the state o' Polly Ann's health when he didn't see her around was 'cause he wa'n't on speakin' terms with Sam. And why wa'n't he ? Cause he was dead in love with Polly Ann himselt ! And jealous o' Sam } Great snakes a-twistin' ! It got so that when Sam 'd come around where Polly Ann was he'd strut and fum-, and fly a- Sam and jab him so that sometimes Sam 'd have to git a club and tight ler sartin, or else run and sliet himself in the barn. But when he'd see Polly Ann when Sam wa'n't around he'd set and look at her like a dyin' calf, and sigh ! Merciful me ! I've see that crow heave setch sighs at Polly Ann, Aunt Sally, that it seemed to me he surely must bust his wishbone out, and nothin' shorter !' " Uncle David shoved the corn deeper down in the kittle, as if he didn't want none of it to be short o' p'ison, and Aunt Sally glanced up to'rds where the rollin'pin was hangin'. By and by Cousin Marcellus says, sort o' 'sinuatin' like, ^" ' Uncle David,' says he, ' have you quit chawin' ter- backer ?' " ' Nope,' says Uncle David. ' Chawin' it right along,' says he. " That's all there was come o' that, and after a while Cousin Marcellus says, " ' One day Polly Ann and Sam was goin' to town to do some tradin'. Sam had a horse that was safe enough when you had him in hand, but he didn't have to have no great big lot of excuse fer to do a little goin' on his own account, and when he got agoin' he hated like helix to stop. Alexander had been a-broodin' and in the dumps fer two or three days 'cause Sam had been 'round the house a good deal, and Polly Ann was all the time chat- terin' to him. When she got in the wagDn that mornin' Alexander sot on the gate-post gazin' at her. Sam had gone to the barn fer somethin'. I was standin' at the gate, and I see sort of a startlin' look come over Alexan- der, and all of a sudden he made a dash and plumped down in the wagon on the seat 'longside o' Polly Ann. " ' "Geedap !" he hollered. " Gee-e-e-dap, there!" and he follered it up with that click o' his'n in a way that the horse knowed meant business, and away he started, with Alex- ander hollerin' and clickin' at him like mad. Before Polly Ann could gether up the lines, or anybody could do a thing or say a word, the horse was goin' on a dead gallop down the road, and went out o' sight in a cloud o' dust around the bend. What did it mean ? Nothin', 'cept that Alexander had stole Polly Ann, and was runnin" away with her ! That was all.' " Aunt Sally took the rollin'-pin down, and Uncle David put a kiver on the kittle so none o' the p'ison 'd steam out. Cousin Marcellus was warmed up on Alex- ander, and he kep' right on. "'Quick as he could,' says he, 'Sam mounted an- other horse and started after Alexander and Polly Ann. Three mile and a half down the road he come up to 'em. Leastways, he come up with the horse and wagon and Polly Ann. The runaway had been stopped by a team comin' t'other way. Nobody was hurt, but Alex- ander was missin'. They couldn't find no track of him high nor low. He knowed ding well what 'd become of him if he was took, and so he had made himself good and scarce. After Polly Ann got over her skeer, and Sam got over his mad, they laughed at it as bein' a good joke, and they was sorry that Alexander had sloped. " ' I guess it was mebbe six months after that I was comin' along the road down there one day. Poor Polly Ann had took a fever some time afore and died of it. As I was comin' along by the place where the bad crow had been balked in his tryin' to steal her, I heerd a hoarse and quiverin' voice, and it skeert me, fer what did it say but, " • " Hello, Marcellus !" " ' I looked up, and there sat Alexander on a limb, all rumpled up and lanky and sick-lookin'. I stopped and told him to git in the wagon. He got in, and sot there without sayin' a word till we got pooty nigh home. Then he says, " ' " How's Polly Ann ?" " ' I didn't tell him anything, and when we got home everybody was glad to see Alexander back ag'in. But he wa'n't the same crow. He soon found out about poor Polly Ann, and one day I see him busy at somethin' in the flower garden. I watched him and I see him pick a lot o' flowers and start away with 'em. He went over to'ards the little buryin'-ground on the hill. I follered along, wonderin' what in natur' he was up to now. He went straight to Polly Ann's grave. He laid the flowers on it, and stood there in a sorrowin' sort o' ponderin' a while. Then he come back home. Next day I found him on the bottom of his house, dead as a millstone ! " ' Kill a crow, Uncle David ?' says Cousin Marcellus. ' Not fer your hull farm !' " Uncle David took down the shot-gun and sot it ag'in the wall. Then he scooped the p'isoned corn out o' the kittle and put it in a bag. Then he says to Cousin Mar- cellus, " ' You fetch that shot-gun and come along with me to the cornfield,' says he, ' or else you kin git into them gum-shoes o' your'n and go back to old Passadanky on the double-quick to drop tears on the grave of Alex- ander !' "Cousin Marcellus took the gun and went. He popped over six crows betwixt that and noon, and Aunt Sally says that from the way he acted with the shortcake and chicken fer dinner the killin' didn't seem to lay par- tic'lar heavy on his conscience. Not partic'lar. And speakin' o' crows, 'Kiar," said the Pochuck chronicler, " I don't seem to see none of any account hangin' 'round the Corners here." " No," said 'Kiar Biff, the landlord ; " seems as if they'd rather roost over Pochuck way. Dunno why, unless it's 'cause they git so much more healthful exercise over there, havin' to fly so fur to git somethin' to eat." Mr. Cribber rubbed his chin a while as if pondering on the possibilities of such being the case ; but if he came to any conclusion regarding it he did not let it be known, and by and by he got into his own gum-shoes and wended his way Pochuckward, presumably for social con- ference with Uncle David, Aunt Sally and Cousin Mar cellus. A New Kind. (( DUT will this fly-paper kill the flies ?" asked the doubting customer. " No, sir," replied the grocer ; " it is anti-cruelty fly- paper. It does not injure ; it merely attracts. Don't you see that it is made to resemble a bald head ?" 'HE man who's without fear is the man who's going to lose his ship. ^rj ^-^H c ? > so y ■< z M 'C H r r^ •s- ■n 2^' 1 ' 1 >l t-H 3 H-. CI. ^ ^ C ^ 3 c n n n, ^ ^S = o c - • jn^ Cl 3 O- ^• d.^ 1 rt a. ft ^. ■ < <-^ ^ ?3 •-t ii W C^ 1— ( a m 3 ^ > t-t iX c N Q »< i^ His Birthday Gift Bv Morris Wade BE HAD just settled himself comforta- bly for the evening in his favorite chair, with his favorite magazine in his hand, when his wife said, " You remember what day next Thursday is, don't you, dear ?" " Don't know as I do," he said, as he ran his paper-cutter between the uncut pages of the magazine. " Well, I remember if you don't, dearie ; it's your birthday." " Oh, it is, is it ? How- those days do come around when a fellow- gets to be forty." "You are only thirty-nine." •• Well, that's a good deal nearer forty than I want to be." " What I wanted to ask, dear, was something in regard to your present. I don't know w-hat to get lor you." " Oh, don't bother about getting anything." ■ '• The idea of it I Of course I shall get you something ! A lady who spoke at our club yesterday impressed upon us the importance of not allowing holidays and birthdays to pass unnoticed in our homes. You always get me something on my birthday." " Oh, well, that's another matter. Any little thing will please me." •• • Any little thing ' is dreadfully vague. Can't you hint a little ?" •' Oh, get me a bo.\ of cigars. I'll tell you the kind." ••But I want to give you something tliat you can keep." '• I need some new- shirts." •• Shirts for a birthday present ! I'd as soon get you a ■ ton of coal !" •• A ton of coal w-ouldn't be a bad thing to get when one never knows wliat minute the miners will go on a strike. Slippers always come in handy." •■ I've given you a dozen pair of slippers already, and if I get neckties for you, you always exchange them. I never told you before, but one day when I was going up to your office in the elevator I noticed that the elevator-man had on the tie I gave you Christmas. Can't you think of some- thing else ?" •• Oh, you might get me something for my desk." •■ I got you a beautiful little iive-dollar bouquet-holder for a rose or a carnation or two for your desk last year, and all you ever used it for was to put cigar ashes in it; It was all spattered with ink, and your mucilage brush was in it the last time I was in your office. No ; I want to get something this year that you can keep and possibly use. How would it do to get something for the house that we could all enjoy ?" " AH right. Go ahead and get anything you want. only don't go in too steep ; business isn't very rushing just now." •' It never is rushing when I want to buy you a birth- day present." '• But you buy it just the same." ••Of course I do. As if 1 would let your birthday go by unnoticed ! Can't you suggest something ? Of course, as it's your present, I w-ant you to be pleased with it more tlian any one else. Can't you make me out a little list of things you w-ould like ?" •' Oh, I don't want to bother doing that. Just get any- thing you take a fancy to and I'll be satisfied. My good- ness ! wlien I have a present to buy for you I rush into some store and buy the first thing I see." •• I know you do, and that is why I have to e.xchange nearly all of your presents to me. You got me Tenny- son's complete works for a present last year and we already had two sets of his works in the house. I hope you wont mind, but I'll tell you now- that I took the books back to the department-store in w-hich you got them and exchanged them for a copper wash-boiler and some gran- ite baking-ware that we needed." •' I don't mind, but I woniler what Tennyson would think if he knew it." '• Couldn't you spare a few minutes to-morrow after- noon and go with me and select something you would like — of course I'd want you to select a number of things from which I could choose one, so that it would be some- thing of a surprise, you know ? Please do that, dear ; please.' Of course he said that he would, and the next after- noon found them in a big department-store, •• dragging from counter to counter," as he would have said, and as he did say — to himself. •' I think I'd like this," he said, picking up a hand- some h.ind-mirror. •' But we have tw^o or three hand-mirrors in the house now-, dear. It doesn't seem to me that we want another. How would you like this lovely picture of the Madonna ?" •• I'd like it well enough. Get it." •' I'll keep it in mind, but, after all, a Madonna doesn't seem like an appropriate present for a man. Maybe you would like this set of Stevenson's books better. Would you ?" •• I'd as soon have that as anything. Why not get me a bath-robe ? I'd like to have one." •• Oh, that wouldn't seem just like a present, would it ? I want something you can keep and that you can show to your friends as a present." •• Then you'd better keep the bath-robe off your list. I'd like a new smoking-jacket." •• I'm afraid you wouldn't be suited with one if I got it. Men like to buy such things themselves. Still, we might look at smoking-jackets, and you could pick out three or four you would like." 5j'3- ■■ I haven't time for all that. Why not get me a box of real nice han(:kerchiefs ? I'd like liiem well enough." •'Oh, handkerchiefs seem so kind of commonplace for a present. Then, as I have remarked before, I want to get something you can keep. I thought some of getting you one of those lovely silk and satin and lace cases for your neckties, but I don't suppose \ou wouid use it if I did." •' Neither would any other man clothed in his right mind. Thompson has a unique kind of a rack for iiis pipes. I rather think I'd like one of them. It's made of six mini- ature skulls, and " " Horrors '. I'm not going to get you anything ol th.nt kind. I do think that some of these smokers' things are just horrid. I'd as soon think of getting you a testament ! Oh, wouldn't you like a real nice purse, dear ?" "I've nothing to put in tiie purses I have now. I think a real handsome pair of silk suspenders would suit me." " It seems like such folly to me to put two or three dol- lars into anything so prosaic as a pair of suspenders. Then you couldn't show them to people as your birthday present. " " It would be a little awkward — especially if I had them on. I've always thought I'd like a pair of elegant silk socks, but they would be open to the same objection so far as showing them is concerned. \Vhy not get me a cane ?" " And you with six canes now that you never carr)-. How wouid a nice silk muffler do?" " It would do if I ever wore a muffler, but I never bother with one of those things." •• I wish that we could think of something for the house that you \vould like. We need more chairs." " Then get one. I really can t give any more time to this business." " I wouldn't like to get one without your help in select- ing it. As it would be loryour birthday present, of course I would want you to be pleased with it. Do take a few minutes more and look at chairs with me. Thev .ire on the floor above." . They go to the '• floor above," and in a moment he is saying, •• I like this one all right." " Do you, dear .' Now, do you know that I don't fancy that chair the least bit. I like this one much better." ■• Well, get it, then." " Not if you don't like it, dear. " " I do like the other one better." " You do ? Why, I think this other chair is far more graceful iii shape. But of course if you like it best I sup- pose " ■• I don't insist on having it. Get the other one if you prefer it." ■• But It is to he^ycur chair, and it's your present, so ol course I want you to be pleased more than anv one else. I do think, however, that the chair I prefer is better suited to a parlor than the chair you like. Then, it is so much more graceful in shape." " Then get it. by all means" '• Not if you decidedly prefer the other. I think if you will e.vamine the two you will lind tiiai tne brocatel oo the chair I like is much finer than that on the other chair, and it is so much richer looking. I can't help it, but I do like this chair better than the other." "Then we'll oriier it and be done with it." •• You feel sure that we can afford it .'" •• Yes, yes — 1 suppose so." •• Well, 111 look around a little and decide about it. I want whatever I get to be as much of a surprise as pos- sible." -\!id_ he, like the wise and experienced husband that he is, says nothing when, a day or two later, she shows the chair of her choice to some callers and says, " My hus!)and has been having a birthday and I have been buying him a chair for a present. Isn't it hard to choose a present for a man ? But I got out of it this time by making him go with me and choose his own present ; so for once he really ought to be satisfied with it, since it is of his own choosing." Nor does he do anything but " keep up a terrible think- ing " when she says, some days later, '• Charles, dear, the bill for the chair I gave you on your birthday came this afternoon and I put it on your desk. Your mother was here to-day, and when I showed her your new chair and told her you had selected it your- self, she said you always did have such good taste." About Abou. fWith apologies to I.eigh Hant.1 A BOU BEN .\D.AMS (may his tribe increa-^ !) ■■ .\\voke une night and shouted out "Police !** For. calmly sitting at his writing-desk. He saw a vision of a form grotesque. *• Hush :" said the vision, nodding its weird head. Ben Adams shivered till he shook the bed ; His front teeth chattered and his feet grew cold ; But still, exceeding nerve made Adams bold, .\nd tij the vision he said. "What the deuce Are you about there ? Chuck it. sir ! Yamoose ! What are you writing ?" "Sir." replied his guest, "^I write the names of those OjrrecUy dressed.'' " -And am I in it?" queried Adams. "No," Replied the vision, .\dams thundered. "Go! But ere you skip write me as one. I pray. Who never wears a shirt-waist, anyway." The vision wrote and fled. But after that He came again to .Adams's litde flat Aiid showed the names of men who dressed the best, And lo ! Ben .Adams's name led all the rest ! C^ROLli'S WELLS. A Dear Friend's Deduction. «tTHE most ridiculous thing happened to-day," said the girl who had been out in her new Easter bonnet. •• There was a man on the corner near a big trench they were digging for a sewer or something, and the man kept staring at me all the tinie as I neared him. and what do you think ? He gazed at me so steadily that he did not see the trench and fell into it." " How odd '" e.xclaimed the girl who had no new Easter bonnet •• Did you look at him, too ?" " Well — of course I couldn't help just glancing at him." " Maybe he jumped into the trench." 7^ v A COLD WAVE. A PLANTATION LULLABY. nAMMY'S little pickaninny gwine to go to sleep- Hush a by-by, hush a by. Doan' yo hear de coon-dog bayin' loud an' deep \ Hush a by-by, hush a by. Mock-birds' notes a-callin', doan' yo hear 'em sing? Pappy's gone a-huntin', an' a possum home 'U bring, There's wortermelons coolin' in the shadderso' the spring. Hush a pickaninny, an' a by-by. There's sweet pertaters bilin' an' a ham-bone to boot, Hush a by-by, hush a by. Pappy's got a grave yard rabbit's left hind foot. Hush a by-by, hush a by. So hush a pickaninny while de sout' winds moan. Go to sleep so mammy can go lieb yo' all alone, Fer she's goin' to make yo'r pappy a big co'n pone — Hush a pickaninny, an' a by-by. //' :SQ\ 1. Many drivers had waved at little Freddie to stop hooking on behind with his e.xpress-wagon, but they met with poor success. t "'yi'!'"',' • * TWO GREAT CLASSES. " I suppose the people who bother you most," said the student in journalism, " are those who want their names put into the paper." " Yes, with one exception." said the managing editor ; " and they are the people who wish their names kept out." n. However, the wave that he got from this particular cart did effectu- ally dampen his ardor. NOT WALTZERS. Mabel — " I understand there were only square dances at Mrs. Flippit's small-and-.arly." Mande — " Yes ; there weren't men enough to go round." ETIOUETTE. Mo.NTALBO Dunn {insanely Jialous) — " Look, Horace, look ! She PROGRESSION. Exhibition fire-drill in the elephant quarters, playing the hose. Bolivar encourages his advances. Let me get at him and his heart's blood shall flow." Horace Murphy {restraining him) — "Nay, nay, Montalbo ! This is not the moment for blood-spilling. Wait until the lady retires." ^y? . AT THE MINSTRELS. n UR. DINGLEBERRY, " said Mr. Bingwliazzle, after ' * the circle had finished the chorus of " My Klon- dike is the gold of Molly's hair " and the applause had subsided ; " Mr. Dingleberry, I have a conundrum to pro- pound to you this evening." " Indeed ?" responded Mr. Dingleberry, thrumming softly upon his tambourine and winking at the middle- man ; " indeed .' And would you kindly propound it ?" " I will," said Mr. Bingwhazzle, placing his bones in his vest-pocket and knocking a fleck of dust from his dia- mond ; •' I will. What, sir, is the difference between a man preparing his poultry for the market at midnight and a lion after it has eaten its dinner ar noon ?" " What is the difference between a man preparing his poultry for market at midnight Is the market to be at midnight ?" " No, no ! He is preparing the poultry at midnight." •' Did you say poultry or poetry ?" " Poultry — poultry, sir !" " Excuse me. I thought if ycu said poetry, the man would be hungry and the lion wouldn't." " Do not be frivolous, Mr. Dingleberry," said the inter- locutor. " The conundrum as propounded by Mr. Bing- whazzle is this, ' What is the difference between a man preparing his poultry at midnight for the market and a lion after it has eaten its dinner at noon .''' " " Well, sir, that's too easy," chuckled Mr. Dingleberry, permitting his left foot to do a jig-step while he remained in his chair. " The man who is preparing his poultry is sighing on the land and the lion that has had his dinner is lying on the sand." " No, sir !" shouted Mr. Bingwhazzle. " You have no reason to infer that the man is unhappy." " Of course he is unhappy. Who wouldn't be ?" " But that is the wrong answer." " Oh, very well. I can give you another. The lion is wagging his tail and the man is tagging his But there are no wails, are there ? Le'me see. There isn't anything about dessert and desert in this, is there ?" " Not a thing." " Then the man had a bird in his hand and the lion had two in the bush," ventured Mr. Dingleberry. " Oh, that is absurd !" " Well, it's the best I can do this evening. I didn't ask you to ask me any old conundrums, did I ? Why is a conundrum like an unsigned letter ? Because you can't answer it. That's better than your old market-man, any- how. What's the answer to yours ?" "It is simple," said Mr. Bingwhazzle. "The lion is licking his chops and the man is lopping his chicks." Then the interlocutor announced that Mr. Raphael Minningham Woodle would render the favorite classical selection, "When your rabbit-foot 's unlucky you should throw the dice away." Beautys Use. ** D^'^UTY 's its own excuse for being." Yea, *^ Most men to this sweet creed are dutiful ; Yet beauty 's the excuse, we can't but see, For much in life that is no/ beautiful. AN OLD SALT'S OBSERVATIONS. AA ANY a man knows where there's a lot of treasure • * locked up, and then discovers that he's left his bunch of keys to home. There's one way in which my ship an' th' sea is better than your house an' th' front yard — I don't have to mow the seaweed. A lie 's like fire — it makes a small place awful hot. Th' scandal that it causes is like its smoke — it 11 smootch a whob neighborhood. " If you could select th' strongest material in th' world to make your cable of, what would you use ?" a man asked me. " Mother-love," I answers. Th' average country deacon's ideas of what true good- ness consists of reminds me of th' Irishman's definition ot an octogenarian. " An octogenarian," says th' Irishman, " is a man with eight toes on each foot." Girls are queer. I asked one one day what she was a-laughin' at. " I dunno," says she. Th' next day she was cryin' an' I asked her th' cause of that. " I dunno," says she. " Guess it's th' same thing that made me laugh yesterday." I've seen th' sea when it was gray, deceitful, crouchin'; then it was like a cat. I've seen it roarin', rampant, terri- ble ; then it was like a lion. I've seen it when it was dreamy, beautiful an' kind ; then it was like a woman. For it was like enough to change within sixteen seconds. How we do waste time ! I know a feller that went to college, an" when he come out th' professor said with pride that that chap had a vocabulary of six thousand words. An' yet I've found out that that feller died jest because he didn't know how to say no when he was asked to have a drink. Many a commandin' officer has deserved jest about as much credit for th' battles that his troops have won, many a captain has deserved jest about as much credit for th' savin' of his ship in time of storm, as th' man who rings up th' curtain at th' theatre does for th' merit of th' play. I knew a fisherman who had been dog poor on Cape Cod all his life, but everbody liked him. One day he ran afoul of a great lump of ambergris a-floatin' in th' bay. He sold it for thirty-eight thousand dollars an' sixty-two cents. Within a year he hadn't a friend on th' cape, an" had begun to abuse his wife. Now, why was that ? If you go to a certain museum in Holland you can still see th' scales where they weighed people accused of bein* sorcerers. If you was of a certain weight or over you was hanged ; if you was of another weight or under you was burned at th' stake. Th' thing to do was to avoid bein' weighed. Same 's true about bein' talked about by some folks. I see a scrap-book once that a hopeless maniac had made while he was locked up in an insane-asylum. As I looked at it I couldn't help but think that it was a good deal like my own memory. Wouldn't it be nice if we could all paste our recollections up all nice and method- ical an' then make a ready-reference index for 'em ? EDWARD MARSHALU IF WE could only deceive others as easily as we deceive ourselves, what great reputations we would have ! EQUAL TO THE OCCASION. Marie Antoinette Murphy {disdainfully) — "Do yer t'ink fer a moment, Sagasta Sullivan, dat I would t'row meself amvf on you ?" Sagasta Sullivan — " No, Marie, I do not. I t'ink yer know de health laws too well to risk t'rowin' rubbish anywheres 'cept ja ash-barrels or public dumps, an' I'm glad ter see yer so well acquainted wid de street-cleanin' ordinances at dat." SHE THOUGHT SO TOO. They were discussing profound subjects with the cynicism that only youth can develop. " I have given the subject serious thought." she said, " and I have decided long ago that I would never marrj'." "That shows you are a woman of mtellect, " he answered admiringly. " I long ago reached the same determination." " Marriage," she obser\'ed, '■ is a state in which the chance for sorrow is great and the prospect for happiness small." " Ver^' true. And what is more, it is a confession that one's intellectual cuItr\alion is insufficient to elevate him above the necessity of companionship." He had been holding her hand all this time, but neither of them seemed to realize the fact. " Every rule," she said thoughtfully, " is proved by its ex- ceptions." " Yes ; and I was just thinking " " What, Orlando ?" " That two people who hold such similar views of life as you and I hold ought to manage to get on splendidly." She blushed and sighed and murmured, " I was just think- ing that it is very seldom that folks ffnd such a true bond of sympathy as we have discovered." DEFINITION. Money is the measure of values, but if its measurements were absolutely accurate there could be no profits. Hence it becomes the yardstick of opportunities. A TERRIBLE BLUNDER. Mrs. Hammerstein— " Kracious, fader ! vot fur you vhip Shakey so fur?" Mr Hammerstein— " 'Vhy, der lamp ubset in der shtore und dis fool — dis crazy poy— he pnd id cud, so hellap me Aaron f >J7 THE SONNET OF SPRING IN ANY CURRENT MAGAZINE. EEP in my soul there subtly wakes and stirs With waking thrill of liff in bud and leaf ; With chirp of bird and rushing wing that whirs From bough to trembling bough in journeys brief — A restless, eager quest, that hurrying goes Seeking amid the chambers of dim thought Something that must be viewed, pursued and caught And made a glorious captive ; else in vain Is all the inspiration of the spring. And mute the impassioned song I fain would sing. But when, as now, I nearer come, close, close At last to the dear goal I would attain. Ah, with what clutching joy I pounce upon it, The longed-for fourteenth line that makes my sonnet ! Blood will till. It's mesilf thot do know a felly thot inheriated chilblains from his father. He losht both fate in a railroad wrick — poor divil ! — an' now, bejakers ! he has th' chilblains on his nick. PAT'S SOLILOQUY. " Poor Tooley ! phwat a pity he niver lived t' injoy hisloife inshoor- ance! Oh, wa-al, Oi s'pose we'll all be dead some day if we live longenuff." OUT OF THE ORDINARY. The maid of the princess de Chimay looked sympathetic as she pre- pared her mistress's coiffure. " Mais, madame, elle appear si latiguee thees eveneeng," she said. The princess sighed. " I am tired," she murmured. " In the last fifteen minutes I have almost made up my mind not to elope with any one to-day." TOUGH. The spring lamb now is with us, You hear its tender bleat ; But how changed you will find it When you've ordered it to eat. PRIDE. Pastor — "You seem resigned to die, and I know it is because you aie such a good Christian." She — " 'Tain't thet so much, pastor; but they do say thet I will hevmie. of the longest funerals ever held at Saugerties." # D6/ c H K M O M > H C > en c« K O M I— t I— t O 2: The Denying of Rans'ler Hawes By Agnes L. Pratt N SPRING, the herrings, millions of them, run up the great river that winds just at the foot of the bar- ren hillside supporting the hamlet of Slabtown to the fresh-water ponds above. When they reach the narrow fishway the water is alive with their black backs and glistening, scaly sides, battling furiously with the whirling current of the river in their onward rush. Some, on the outer edge, breast the opposing forces successfully, pass the rapids, and disappear in the calmer waters beyond. But there are others, drawn into the very vortex of the whirling waters, tossed and played with by the ob- stinate currents, and thrown high into the air. to land, quite by acci- dent, in the placid water they had been seeking since leaving their ac- customed haunts in the briny ocean. On a mild ilay in spring, when the skies are blue, the waters sparkling and sun-kissed, scintillant with reflected light, it is a pretty sight to watch the solid masses of glistening fishes, swimming, pushing, crowding through the narrowed waters of the fishway. To the colorless inhabitants of Slabtown the beauty of the scene appeals not at all. It is the only season of the year when their habitual inertia is ever so slightly dis- turbed, and then only because the vending of the scaly tribe becomes a means of revenue without the expendi- ture of much exertion on their part. It is very easy to jolt along over a sandy country road, in a rickety, spring- less wagon drawn by some specimen of equine decrepi- tude, drone out the spiritless cry of the street hawker, •' Herrin's ! Herrin's ! Fine fresh herrin's !" and perhaps dispose, without bestirring themselves to any appreciable extent, of a whole wagon-load in a forenoon. There is a certain e.xcitement, too, in the way they get their stock in trade. Not legitimately, certainly. No Slabtowner was ever known to become possessed of any- thing openly which he could by any possibility secure by stealth or pilfering. The story of how they evade the fish wardens, of the midnight marauding they resort to in order to secure the next day's supply, is too long to repeat here. Sufficient to say, thry have become inured, by long practice, to such manoeuvring, and manage to accumu- late by shady transactions what they would never con- sent to acquire by honest labor. In the earlier seasons of the year, when the young man's fancy is supposed to •' lightly turn to thoughts of love," the younger members of the hamlet resort to this method to gain the necessary funds to prosecute their wooing. It so happened that Rans'ler Hawes, a shock-headed individual of indeterminate hue, had become enamored, in the early spring, of " Minervy " Rathbun, the daughter of his next-door neighbor. His mother was a widow, and he, her only son, was worshiped with an idolatry that had proven disastrous to what little principle he might otherwise have possessed. Content to allow his maternal parent to provide his sustenance by whatever means lay in her power, he had loafed, sunned himself, and grown at her expense, repaying her self-sacrifice with an occasional curse or sullen threat. And yet she loved liim. But now, into his life had crept a new interest. Something in the pale-blue eyes, the ungraceful, slouching form of his neighbor's daughter, had stirred, in a dull way, the currents of his lethargic nature, and he began to look about him for means to secure for the object of his affections the little trinkets the other youth of the hamlet bestowed on the girls of their choice. He took naturally to the stealthy pilfering that was necessary to secure a load of fish without price, and the danger of detection that accompanied the trips as a side issue was sufficiently apparent to stir the dormant tiger- ishness of his blood. He had brought her many tinselly trinkets, and they had been well received. He had perched himself on the battered fence in front of her father's squalid dwelling, and there smoked and talked with the head of the house, while he cast furtive glances- of admiration in the direction of his barefooted daughter. Then there had been frequent walks down the treeless, sandy road that wound away over the hillside to the fertile valleys beyond, and when only the recording angel knew what hopes he had nurtured, what encouragement she had given. It all culminated one sweetly calm night, a night when only the twinkling stars lighted the miserable shades of Slabtown. Rans'ler Hawes had just started out. perched on the seat of his ramshackle turnout, for the banks of the rushing river beneath the hill. It was well on into the night, and the creaking of his wagon wheels rose above all the noises of the under-world, those fine vibrations on the strings of nature's harp that are hardly perceptible. The yellow sands of the narrow road gave back a subdued crunching sound to the rattle of the wagon wheels as they passed over it. Suddenly, ahead of him a little way, by the side of the road, he caught sight of two figures, arm in arm. They were coming toward him, and he pulled his wagon into the shadows and waited. He had caught something familiar in the walk, the outlines or something, of the girl. The brim of the old slouch hat he wore shaded his face, but the sparkling starshine revealed tiie sudden murderous smile that had grown about his sulUn mouth. Step by step, conversing in low tones, and uj- conscious of his proximity, they advanced in his directio.t. One hand crept around behind him into the wagon, and drew slowly forth a wicked-looking weapon' he had. 163 prepared for liis own defense in case he should be surprised by the fish wardens. It was a heavy billet of wood sur- mounted with lead. The sound of voices came nearer and he climbed stealthily down out of the wagon and con- fronted them in the middle of the yellow, sandy hij^hway. " That you, Minervy ?" he called out, gruffly. The girl quailed and shrank into the shadows be^-'Ul her escort. " Who you got with you ?" he called out again, mock- ingly, with each word coming a step nearer, and finally pausing to peer fi.\edly into the face of the young man who had not spoken yet from sheer surprise. " Oh, I see !" and there was an ominous calm in the vicious accent he gave the words. " It's Bill Rathbun, an' you— you " he choked with the mad rage that surged through his hitherto sluggish veins, " you didn't tell me" He paused, and the saucy reply of the girl fell on the still air. " It ain't none of your liusiness, so there !" she an- swered, coolly. " I shall walk jest where I please, an' with him, or you — an' you can't help yourself — so I" It was the pert, thoughtless retort of a girl proud of her conquests, gloating over the rivalry she had in- spired. ■■Can't I ?" He took one step forward, raised the heavy club ana brought it down with wicked force on the head of him ■who had been, thus far, but a silent listener to their dia- logue. Without a groan, without a quiver, he went down all in a heap in the roadway and lay there, huddled to- gether, a miserable black mass, under the scintillant star- shine. A sudden shiver convulsed the girl. "Oh!" she cried, and reaching out two tremblmg hands she grasped his coat-sleeve tightly, ■• you've kdled him ! You've killed him ! An' he hain't never done you no harm, neither. What did you do it for ?" He shook her roughly off and knelt a moment by the silent form. There was no pulse in the heart he sought, the pallid brow was chillmg last. With a stag- gering motion he rose to his feet. " 'Twas you done it," he said, surlily ; "you liked him all the time better'n you did me, an' you lied to me — curse you !" The girl faced him, pallid, trembling, the starlight shining weirdly all over her coarse raiment, her colorless face, and then down to the shapeless dark mass at her feet. " Yes ; I did," and a solemn earnestness glowed for an instant in her expressionless eyes ; " I did. I liked him better'n I did you. He wa'n't so ugly, nor so lazy — an' " — chokingly — "we was goin' to be married. I let you come there 'cause you brought me things. I wanted 'em," with a sudden confirmation, " an' you was jest fool enough to git 'em for me." " Then I'm glad " — doggedly — " that I've killed him. He can't never do me no more harm." The girl's voice rose shrilly on the night air in reply. " But you sha'n't git away," she cried ; " you shall hang for it. I seen you when you struck him, an' I'll tell — an' " — breathlessly — " they'll hang you." She clung to him desperately and opened her mouth to cry frenziedly for help. But he drew himself free ot her clingmg clasp and, drawing back one hand, dealt her a stinging blow in the face, and, turning his back on the accusing heap in the road, the reeling, blinded figure of the girl, and the old sorrel horse crunchmg contentedly the crisp foliage of an overhanging tree, fled into the en- compassing shadows that infested the woods and fields beyond his vision. For months they waited for him to return. The mur- tlered boy was buried, a reward was otTered for the ap- prehension of the murderer, an indictment was found by the grand jury of a neighboring county seat for " murder in the first degree," and there the case rested. A lonely old woman, on the barren hillside, toiled till evening shad- ows fell — toiled and suffered ; and, though she knew not God except as she had heard His name cursed, prayed — prayed to some power she could not comprehend, that, somehow, her son's life would be spared — not for justice, but that he might evade the law and the consequences of his act. And in the next house an ungraceful, hueless woman went silently about with unsmiling lips, her eyes wet with unshed tears, and one thought crying at he^ '^eart — for vengeance on the murderer of her lover. So the snows fell and melted over the barren hamlet on the hillside, soft rains came and burst the budding flowers, and the earth smiled because spring was awak- ened. Four times the seasons followed each other, and though the tragedy had ceased to be discussed, the un- tiring sleuth hounds of the law had not forgotten. Jus- tice, though blind, remembers and is pitiless. From a far-distant city, one day, came a letter and a picture ; and a stalwart officer climbed the sandy slope and laid them in the lap ol the dim-eyed old woman who was waiting in one of the tottering hovels. " Is that vour son ?" he asked sternly, pointing to the pictured face. She took the picture tremblingly up and tottered to the doorway. " Let me see it where it is light," she said, and her volte was emotionless. For a long time she gazed at it steadily. Then she gave it back to him. " No," she said, quite calmly, and there was icy in- difference in the thin voice ; " that ain't Rans'ler Hawes. That ain't him. Why," with a sudden uplifting of her colorless eyebrows, ■■ I sh'd know him anywheres — any- wheres in the wide world — an' that ain't him. " The officer sniffed doubtfully. He had failed to sur- prise her into anv recognition of the pictured face of the criminal, and he turned away disappointedly. From there he stepped over the rotting fence into the next yard. " Do you know who that is ?" he asked a pale-eyed woman who was lolling listlessly on the door-step. ■■ It's the man that killed my — my — the one I was with," she answered presently. "You are sure ? Is that young Hawes — what was his first name ?" anxiously. ■• Rans'ler Hawes. Yes ; there ain't a mite of doubt. I sh'd know his face anywhere. I'm glad they've got him. T hope you'll hang him !" she finished, bitingly. The officer took the bit of pasteboard and went down into the city. There he reported to his chief what he had accomplished. •' About evenly divided," said that official, smilingly ; •• mother against, sweetheart for. Just as much evidence on one side as on the other. As for the rest of the dwell- ers in Slabtown, their evidence wouldn't be worth consid- ering. They have no consciences — will swear one way as readily as the other. We shall have to depend on these two women for identification." " Well, you'll see," returned the officer, confidently ; " when we get him here and bring him face to face with the old woman she'll wilt. She's his mother and they tell me she set her life by him. And it isn't human nature for a mother to deny her child. I shall rely on that. He's been away so long, and she's missed him — died, almost, for a sight of him. She'll break down all right, when she catches sight of him, you'll see." " Yes ; when the time comes." The apprehended man was brought home and lodged in the county jail. It was decided that he should not be confronted with the old woman of the hut on the hillside until the day of the trial, when they hoped to surprise her into an admission of his identity. Meanwhile he pre- served a stolid silence which neither threats nor per- suasion could break. Finally, the day of the trial dawned, and hundreds flocked to the great stone court-house. There were few witnesses. Just the officers who had gone in search of him, and two women, one young, gaunt, and angular, with light-blue eyes and hueless hair and skin ; the other bent and shriveled before her time, wrinl simile — " any more'n I am." She was dismissed, and presently the jury filed out. Then they came back, after a little, to report : " Not guilty." When pressed for a reason for the verdict they announced that the prisoner's identity had not been esta- blished beyond a doubt, and that, therefore, they could not, in justice to him, return a verdict of guilty. i (e ) A lonely old woman toiled up the barren hillside again, vvnen the shadows of nightfall were creeping ahead of her, and paused at the door of her desolate cabin. A young woman was standing there in the doorway, barring her entrance. " You here ?" she asked her, dully, " an' what do you want ? ' The girl faced her in the fading light. " I want the truth," she said, sternly ; " you lied, down there," she pointed away to the towers of the neighboring city that pierced the glory of the sunset clouds. " I want you to go back down .there an' tell 'em you lied — tell 'em it was Rans'ler Hawes — an'" — with sudden earnestness — "you know it was." The old woman pushed wearily past her into the dim- ness of the little kitchen. " It wa'n't," she said in a low voice. " You know you lied." The girl came nearer and the fires of a passionate light glowed in her face. " You got him free by jest your lies — an' you didn't care — how much I suffered — how much he hurt him — when he killed him. All you was thinkin' ot was yourself. You never thought nothin' at all 'bout nobody else." The girl's voice wav- ered and broke with the strength of its emotion. A long red lance from the departing sunlight played a moment over the elder woman's face and brought out vividly the ghastly expression of suffering there. "Let me alone," she cried, suddenly, fiercely; "go home. Go "way from here an' let me be. I hain't done nothin' — no, nothin', ever," a gasping sob put a period to her utterance, but presently she resumed, " for my- self — but alius, alius — ever sence he was born — for him. An' " — she went up to the girl, laid one claw-like hand heavily on her shoulder and muttered — " an' — you kin believe it or not, but you'll never git me to say any- thin' else. That wa'n't my son. That wa'n't Rans'ler Hawes." Her voice rose shrilly and trailed away in a mirthless laugh on the night air. And the girl turned and went away, out of the little cabin, with bowed head. And presently, from out of the shadows, night fell and moonlight, effulgent, softened the rude outlines of the hamlet. In one of the hovels on the lonely hillside a woman, old and shriveled, kept watch by her window. And at midnight a slouching form passed her door and stood a moment by the open window. She peered out into the misty moonlight and scanned his face eagerly, " Rans'ler — Rans'ler," she whispered. "Hush," he retorted, roughly; "don't let every one hear my name," and then, in a gruff murmur, " hev you got anythin' for me ? I've got to git out o' this a'gin, I suppose — an' I hain't got any money." She rose and w-ent into an inner room. Presently she returned with a handful of small silver pieces. She dropped them into his hand and it closed over them greedily " That's all I've got," she said, apologetically, " most ten dollars. I've ben savin' it fer ye. Rans'ler," she raised her eyes to his face and caught .at his sleeve as he turned about to depart, " can't ye, for what I've done for ye this day, can't ye call me mother jest once — so' s," in a lower tone, " I'll hev it to remember of ye, after ye're gone ?" Some little expression of compassion swept the coars- ened features. He turned back to her an instant, glanced once into her eyes, and whispered " Mother." In another moment the darkness of night had swallowed him up, but the old woman still stood there, where he had left her, the moonlight on her face and the sound of the first kind word he had ever uttered to her still ringing in her ears. ILLUSTRATED NEWS NOTE. Mr. Jones, of the riding-club, entered and rode his horse " Rinky Dink" in the BilgevMIe Derby, but he was unplaced. 3 > o D. CI V ij o >■ < O •i ■a c § H Z o Q c o •c £2 rt O bo : o So a ^^/ Only One To Greet Him. CAPTAIN MICHAEL GAFFNEY the founder of the progressive city of Gaffney, South Carolina, took a great interest in the spiritual welfare of his slaves antl built for their use a large log church. Uncle Archie, a kind of a " zorter," preached at this church every Sunday morn- ing, and upon a certain oc- casion delivered a discourse upon the Judgment day, as- suring his congregation that it would b^ a " dark and disluni day when ole Belzy- bug cums down here an' gits alter you niggers." Uncle Archie pictured hell in all of its fury, and at the close of his sermon asked all in the congregation who were Christians, and who were ready to go when Ga- briel should^ blow his horn, to go up and give him (Uncle Archie) their hands. The sermon had caused great excitement, as he had succeeded in convincing his hearers that the end of the world was about due, so nearly all responded. In the midst of this some one looked out of the window and saw a balloon, 'that had gotten away from a circus at Spartanburg, come sailing along! He had never seen a balloon before, and was frightened out of his wits to see 'TIS SYNONYMOUS. Lady — '■ Didn't you ever work ?" Sloppy Sam — "Yep. Had a fine job oncet, but de bum-workers' party nominated me fer president, an' I t'rew up me job, an' I ain't been workin' since." this great shape flying through the air, and immediately cried out, " Judgment day !" and called the attention of the others to the balloon. In about a minute everybody had taken to the woods, except one poor old rheumatic fellow, who started but managed to get only as far as the door just as the lialloon fell in the yard, only a few feet from him. As the aeronaut, a lithe, handsome man, dressed in tights with gold and silver spangles all over them, leaped from the bal- loon, the old man, fully loe- lieving that "Judgment day " was at hand, hob- bled up to him, held out his hand and said, "Howdy -do, Marse Jesus, how's yore pa ?" Robert M. G.\ffnev, Gaffney, South Carolina. Simple Addition. Assistant — " Here's a rumor ol a battle with a loss of twelve thousand men." Editor — •• And here's another rumor that the loss was fifteen thousand men. Issue an extra reporting rumors of two battles with losses of twenty-seven thousand men." LUGUBRIOUS. Submarine photographer — " It is a perfect likeness of you." Patron — " Great >'eptune ! am I such a looking lobster as that?" ^ t The Hash-knife Outfit Protests Hash-knife Outfit, Panhandle Gulch, Arizona. r\EAR and honored sir — Having read your paper off and ^ on since the San Francisco mountains were a hole in the ground, and knowing it to be of a serious disposition, I now write to unfold that these yere shorthorns what air objecting to the admission of Arizona air plumb locoed. They shorely do seem to think, being uneddicated critters, that we-all on the range air a-shooting up the scenery all the time. Which being of the opinion, they're allowing to drive her into the corral and brand her fer a maverick, putting the New Mexico iron on her. What you-all back there needs is eddication, as I aforesaid mentioned. A locoed tenderfoot — which his brand escapes me, but it sounds like Beef-on-ridge — came out yere and milled around some among the Pima wickiups and the greaser huts, then pulled his picket-pin and vamoosed with his durned committee back into the states, representing that we-all weren't civilized, which that shorthorn's long suit is gab, but this time he tackled more than he can ride herd on. But letting that go in the discard, I puts it to you straight that there ain't on this yere footstool a more civ- ilized spot than Arizona. I gambles with no limit on that it has more scenery to the square inch than any spot on earth, and that there are more yearlings rustled in this territory than York state raises altogether. That's what- ever, or I'm a Chinaman. Likewise — which is more of the same talk — there's better sport of all sorts, including both bronco and faro bucking. It has been slung at us that Arizona is filled with ab- sentees. I natcherly allows that having no neighbor is a blame sight better than having one you don't want. We- all shoot up the undesirable ones and keep the com- munity pure, or leastways we throws a gun on him and intimates that if he pulls his freight he will find the cli- mate of Mexico better suited to his complexion. Yes, sir ; you c^n gamble — and I plays this, too, with no limit — that the population here is the most cultivated any coun- try needs. All the tucks and frills of manhood are right here with us. We can bend a pistol quicker than any tenderfoot in the states, and can stick to a pitching bronco without hunting leather or riding on our spurs 'ong after he would have taken the dust. About this yere gabfest senator orator of yours, what they call Beef-on-ridge— mebbe there's the making of a man in him yet. If you 'lows that's so, send him out to Hash-knife ranch and we'll leam him to ride herd and how to tie a bull. He may tackle my sun-fishing mustang Pinto, which I am betting — though it's a cinch and plumb taking your money — that he cayn't at present last three bucks. Likewise we'll learn him to cuss most fluent and talk the man-talk instead of chewing like an old lady at a hen gabfest. Being all for this time, I now puts my brand en this letter, YUM.\ J.\CK. HIS PHILOSOPHY. Joel DiGGEM — " Do >e give yer summer boarders any delicacies ?" Cyrus Bigbeard— •' Not a durn one ! If we did they'd begin thinkin' o' what a snap they had in their own homes an' light out quicker 'n scat." ^t 7 A CHILD'S DEFINITION. •\N any one in the class tell me what a fount- ain is? " " Yeth, thir. Pleathe. thir, ith a wain- ?ithorm sthquirted up thwough a hole." HER MEDICAL ADVICE. Mrs. O' Riley (tenderly, to Norah, who has just recovered from a severe illness) — ■' Don't ate anything, darlint, while yer stomach 's impty. Jist wait till it's full, an' thin phwat ye ate won't hurt ye." It w.'lS not by way of penance that our Chauncey visited the pope after tarrying in Monte Carlo. Surely he never burst the bank, and the bank wasn't smart enough to burst him. OUT OF THE COLD. Judge — " You have told an hon- est, straightforward story. I will there- fore be good and give you ninety days." Hobo — " T'ank yer, jedge. I knew if I sassed yer an' got yer riled yer'd flare up an' on'y give me t'irty days er discharge me. Honesty is de best policy. T'ank yer, jedge." A DIFFERENT FEELING. Miss Timberii'heels — "How were you impressed by Mr. Noodles?" Miss Hungerford — " I wasn't impressed. I was oppressed." QUITE RIGHT. Ethel — " Louise, what's right and wrong?" Louise — " Why, ma and pa, of course." Tebaccy 'skillin' many th'foine, promisin' young mon — troyin' t' git th' money t' boy it. ANALOGY. 'Twas the first time Willie had seen any one with the measles. " My !" he exclaimed, "Tommy's got domi- no-skin all over his face." A NOVEL WAY. Grandpa invited Dorothy to go with him to feed the chickens, the morning after her arrival at the farm. On her return to the house she inquired shyly, " Grandpa, do all hens eat with their ncses?" HARDER TO BEAR THAN A SNOW-STORM. Weary Walker {sttahng a ride) — " I hates ter walk, 'specially in dis snow, but I can't stand dis, thet's certain !" AN ABSTRUSE SCROLL. ER face is like an unrolled scroll, Say those who've read it and are versed, Where chosen secrets of her soul As herald's tidings are rehearsed. With Greek and Coptic I am free. And, as a scholar, much suspect (It so completely baffles niej The scroll is in a dialect. NICE TO TEACH. Madge — " I wonder why Dolly gets taken out skating so much ?" Marjorie — " It's because she doesn't know how to skate." THE ORIGINAL RIVER AND HARBOR BILL. Its passage was stopped by the president. KINDRED SOLICITUDE. Johnny Potts {in his sleep)—'' Ante 1 Ante up, there '" Aunt £dda Katim (lovingly) — " Yes, nephew ; I'm up. {Aside.) Haow much thet dear ^Ounker dew think of his old aunty !" AFTER THE HOLIDAYS. " My dear, I thought you said you had done all your holiday shopping?" " I have ; but I am now going to look for something fine for Tom to give me." HIS CRITICISM. A small Episcopalian went with a Presbyterian aunt to a prayer-meeting in the church of the latter. He was evidently surprised at the proceedings and came away in deep thought. "Well, Stanley," said his aunt, " how did vou like the prayer-meeting .' ' " Pretty well," replied the youngster, "but, aunty, that was a very queer minister. He didn't know but one of his prayers, and the people had to say them for him." NO QUESTION. Rejected suitor (pious) — " Well, I shall look forward to meeting her in heaven." Syiiipathizcr — "Is that so .' Are you sure ?" Rejected suitor — " Yes • she is a very good girl. " She Mi^ht Have Known It CHE had met the young man but half an hour Ijefore, and the hostess had asked her to make herself agree- able to him. " I have been so anxious to meet you, Mr. Jones !" she said brightly. "So many people have spoken of you that " " Pardon me ; my name is Smith," he interrupted. "To be sure — I might have known it. You must pardon me. You know names are the most difficult things in the world forme to remember. Now, there was Mr. Ollingham, who was down here last week. You re- member him, do you not, Mr. Brown ? He said lie had met you "■ " My name is Smith, please," he said hurriedly. the word you want. The blacksmith hits the iron on the anvil, and he Mr. Smithereens 1" " Not quite right — it's Smith." " Certainly it is. How silly of me ! I might have known it. But that was just the way with Mr. Ollingham and me. I was forever forgetting his name and calling him something else. I hope, though, that I will keep your name in my mind |)erfectly, Mr. Brownstone " " My name isn't Brownstone ; it's Smith." " Now, wasn't that funny ? I was thinking of a silver- smith who lived in a brownstone house, and that made me think jour name was Brownstone. It is Smith — I might have known it. But Mr. Ollingham impressed upon me the benefits of his memory-system so thoroughly "Smith ? Mr. Smith — yes, ol course. I might have that I cannot but believe it will work all right once I get known it. But I was telling you about Mr. Ollingham. practiced in it. Now, every time I think of memory- You remember him — tall, dark man, who wears his hair long and writes short stories, or does something for the magazines, doesn't he ? It was the strangest thing about his name, Mr. Perkins " ■ " It is Smith, you know." " How dreadful of me 1 Of course it is, Mr. Smith — I might have known. Mr. Ollingham and I were talking about how hard it is for some people to remember names, and he said he was just like I am. But when one meets a great many folks, you know, Mr. Black " " But my name Is Smith." systems I think of Mr. Ollingham ; so when I try to think of your name I am going to think ' Memory — Ollingham — Smitten.' " "But I'm not Smitten — I'm Smith." " I might have known it. Pardon me again," she smiled, blushing. " When I thought of George — er — Mr. Ollingham, I unconsciously thought of — of the other word — don't you see, Mr. Slipps ?" . " It is Smith," he repeated sadly, rising " I might have known it." 'Of course you might. " I m i g h t have known. Excuse me, Mr. Smith. Now, I am going to follow Mr. Ollingham's plan of memory -culture and not forget your name again. When I try to think of your name I shall think of i blacksmith, or a sil- versmith " " Or an adsmith or a jokesmith." " Now, don't poke fun at me, Mr. — Mr. Blacksmith, Silver- smith, Jokesmith — Mr. Why, t h e memory-system does- n't help me. Don't interrupt me ; let me start over again. Now, the blacksmith — what does he do ? That's the way to go about it. You see, you have to think of something, and that makes you think of something else, and so on, until you come right up to But will you convey my con- gratulations to Mr. Ollingham.'" And he made his adieus. Later the hostess asked her, " Carrie, how did you get along with Mr. Smith ?" "Do you mean that Mr. Smithers I was talking to this morn- ing ?" " No. He is Mr, .Smith, the son of old Mr. Smith, the iron- monger, and they are fabulously wealthy. Don't you remember, he is the young man I said I had picked out lor you ?" " Smith ! I might have known it." WHAT HE'D HAVE. Chimmy — " How much fer d.it diamond ring in dere— -de big one?" Jeweler — " Four hundred dollars.'' Chimmv — " Say, Mag. would yer sooner hev dat er a plate uv ice-cream ?" ««THE breath of suspicion has never touched me," he srdd. "Oh, I don't know," said his wife. "I have often detected theodor of cloves when you came home late." THE BOTANIST'S MISTAKE. 1. Professor Oluboy— ■• Aha ! a four-leaf clover. They say it is an emblem of luck. What fate ! There is no such thing as 2. luck !" The Sleuth. UE treads along thro' unfrequented ways. ■ * The shadow of a shadow. In the wake Of erring ones, his glass is oft opaque — His theories the merest waifs and straj-s. But. then, what matter, when the business pays ? What tho' some folks assert that he's a " fake," And has the name of being "on the make " — He scorns publicity's all-searching rays. Meanwhile the cracksman plies his honest trade. The second-story artist nimbly climbs Ambition's heights thro' sweet wistaria blooms. Into his bag the precious jewels fade ; There's naught to fear in these industrious times — Not even the nebulous prospect of the Tombs. EUGENE GEARY. So They Told. Editor — " How did yon find out so much about tha proceedings ot that woman's club?" Reporter — ■• It was a secret meeting they held." Whose ? Deacon 'Rastus—" Ah heah Brudder Snowball leads a very regular life." Deacon Ephraim — •• Yes, sah. He always goes ter bed wif de chickings." The Present and the Future. (( DRETHERIX," said Deacon Snowball, who was con- ducting the question-box at the class meeting of the Dahkeyfellers Band of Hope, "some pusson, ter me unbeknownst, has drapped in de box a question w'ich he links am gwine ter obfuscate me. He writes, " ' Is watahmillyon bettah dan' possum, an' what am yo' views ob de hyuhafteh ?' " Now, I'se gwine ter anseh dis fool in 'cording ter his folly. Dat is, I'se gwine ter mek reply ter bofe dese hyuh questions, an' I hopes I sheds some light on some po' sinnah dat's settin' in dahkness lak a hen tryin' ter hatch spring brilers fum a do" knob. In de fust place, I'se gwine ter say I neveh ate no w-atahmillyon when 'possum was in season, en neveh ate no 'possum whilest watah- millyon was in season, en ef I got bofe watahmillyon en 'possum tergeddeh I'd know I'se in hebben, whilest ef I eveh fin's er place whah dey ain't got no "possum ner no w^atahmillyon. eitheh tergedileh or in sep'rit. den I'll know dey is a hell en dat I's got off at de right co'neh. Less sing. w. D. NESBIT. Ample Reason. " \A/'^^ '''"^ ''^^y ?'^^ Greenbaum a benefit last night.'" " It was the most successful year of his manage- ment." A SOLDIER'S FATE. THE last drum-beat had died away. The last strain of martial music had echoed on the air. Once more a grateful nation had remembered its heroes, and orators had told again of Gettys- burg and Antietam, of Lincoln and Mother Bickerdyke. Now- twilight had fallen ; the stars were lighting their camp-fires in the sky, and the odor pf thousands of blossoms e.xhaled on the air, like incense from sacred altars. By a tall gray-granite shaft whose base was piled with the white bells of lilies stood two scarred veterans, one in blue and one in gray. " Yes, comrade," said the man in blue, " war is indeed a sad thing, and the worst about it is that its horrors do not end on the battle-field. Little did I think when you saved my life at the Wilderness that I should live to see the statues of our heroes that adorn New York city." The man in blue was visibly affected. He bowed his head and wept. His companion seemed scarcely less agitated. " Cheer up," he said, that fate, and there are IT MADE A DIFFERENCE. Aunt Jane — "That is a very decorous and modest bathing-suit, Louise, and I quite approve of it." Louise — "I am glad you think it so proper, aunty ; but it is my bicycle-suit, you know." Even Columbus did not CLcape irse things than a nightmare in AT THE SCHOOL-TEACHERS' PICNIC. Small boy (sitting calmly down to await developments) — ■' Say an' girls, dat pond is full uv snappin'-turtles an' blood-suckers an' lamper-eels, an' I seen six big water-snakes killed in it yisterday ; an' old Bill Snipes drownded hisself in dere last week, an' his body hain't riz yet, an' " (Tableau.) marble. Why, don't you remember the man at Seven Oaks who bore the dying message of his life-long friend to his widow ? Don't vou remember that he mar- ried her ?" The man in blue revived somewhat. " True, I do remember it now," he said. " Thank you for reminding me of it. By the way, do you recall the time at Manassas when you saw a ghost .-■" The man in gray laughed heartily. " Yes," he said. " And it was old Mother Bickerdyke with her lantern. She " " Oh, I say," broke in the other, " don't you remember that jack-rabbit that ran between the confederate and union lines at Gettysburg, and was so scared that he just jumped up and down and " '• And all the boys crying ' Molly Cotton- tail ! Rabbit-stew for dinner to-night,' " cried the man in gray. " Why, of course, and " The man in blue sighed heavily. " It's no use," he said. " I can't help think- ing about that poor fellow who married his friend's widow. He was so fond of peace." " Oh, nonsense," said the man in gray, " he's all right now ; he's gone to help the Cubans." " Thank heaven !" cried the man in blue fervently. " I'll bet he takes no more dying messages." As the two friends locked arms and walked away the white lilies looked up wonderirgly at the starry sky. Nipping a Graft Bud By James Ravcnscroft HE AVERAGE citizen was inspecting" the stock ol a corner news-stand. He had Iool y?? His Felicity. UPON my hat throughout the night I wear a big electric light ; I also wear one on the shirt By which I'm decently begirt. Then I can see upon the ground The robber that would not be found. And up among the branches thick The darkey who'd corral the chick. And so I swing my club in glee, And feel I earn my sala-ree, That keeps the gay and festive pot A-boilin' all the time red-hot. And that is why I gayly dance And somersault, cart-wheel and prance And thank my stars, until I drop, That I'm a howling countrj' cop. Where He Learned. THE chance caller delights the parents of the new baby. When the infant says, " Ooh, wah, oof, gooble, oohaw," he knows exactly what it says. When it asserts " Wooshy, boogaw. oofle, oofer," he immediately trans- lates the speech. " Why, Mr. Pullem I" e.\claims the delighted mother, " I understand you have no children of your own. How in the world did you become so familiar with the prattle of little ones ?" " You forget that I am a dentist," he e.\- plains. " I have to know what a patient is trying to say when he has a rubber dam and four or five of my fingers blocking his speech." How Careless ! (( I SAW Fuddlesome running down the street this morn- ing," says the first suburbanite. " What was the matter ?" ■' He was going for a veterinary surgeon and a ma- chinist," explains the second suburbanite. " What was wrong ? ' " Last night he went out to his stable to see that every- thing was all right, and incidentally to fix his b^y mule and his automobile for the night. You know how care- less he is ?" " Yes ; but " " Well, now the mule has gasolinitis and the auto has hay-fever." What Mary Meant. MARY STUART had just blown up the castle. K.,,1 I" ..!,„ .1 she murmured. Too I only meant to discharge bad !' the cook.' Realizing the desperate measues needed, some were fain to doubt the murder of Darnley. His Ruse. street-boy — " Sir, have you lost your pocket-book ?" Gentieman (searching through his pockets^ "No my boy." Street-boy— " Ihen you will be so kind to give me a nickel." (( All Clear to Him. VES," said the traveling artist, who had paused to contemplate the charming view from Mr. Meddergrass's front yard and to drink a cup or two of buttermilk ; "yes, I should like to linger in this lovely spot all summer. To me there could be nothing finer than to remain here and bask in the light of inspiration while the wonderlul scenery grew more and more upon me. Do you grasp my thought ?" " I reckon I do," said Mr. Meddergrass. " You mean you'd like to loaf around here long enough to get hayseed in your hair and then sit still till it sprouted." The One He Got. << /^LD Biggsby seems to be all cut up be- cause young Medoogus is going to marry his daughter." " Yes; he says Medoogus has taken the flower of his flock." " Huh ! She's the oldest of eight, and she's been on the anxious list for ten years." " I guess Biggsby means the wall-flower." dere HIS INTERPRETATION. Can't you read that sign, you little " •'I kin read de sign all right, but dat sign's wrong. Dere's good fisl.in' . si U c ■a _r ^ ^7 " Dast you go in and see him, Sctiuy ?" " Mug," I said, solemnly, my voice turned into an affecting tremolo, " lie'd roast us alive !" " Yes ; but I could stand a certain amount of roasting." My wretched chum crossed the track and climbed up on top of a pile of old lumber, where he balanced himself un- steadily and peeped into the window, his form gleaming ghastly in the pallid light with tlie rain glancing from his bare shoulders. I stood in the middle of the track and shivered with cold and fear. Mug tiptoed higher. The treacherous pile of splintery lumber toppled and fell with a crash, which to our horrified ears resembled a long-drawn-out clap of thun- der. I fled incontinently. Mug picke ! gg e r — " Why won't you go ta that French restaurant IX OUR MODERN FLATS. Mrs. Flatte-Hunter — "Mr. Dauber, why have you put your furniture up in that fashion ?" Mr. Dai'ber — "Well, you see, I have more room above the floor than I have on it ; so wlien I want to use the furniture I just let it down." Mrs. Parvettue — " Be- cause I paid a big price for a dish with a fancy name and it turned out to be only a kidney stew." A Sharp Trade. A N Irishman was told by a teacher that his cliarge for ■^^ tuition was two guineas the first month and one guinea the second. "Then, be jabers," said Pat, "I'll, begin the second month now, I will." Beatrice Sperbec^ $yy The Man Who Fit with GinVal Grant By Max Mcrryman INE HOURS in the saddle astride a horse whose gait was calculated to convey the impression that no two of hif legs were of the same length, and whose bony sides were so toughened by length of years that they were impervious to spur or rawhide, had so exhausted me that I decided to halt at the next house I came to there in the back- woods and seek food and a shelter for the night. Tlie horse was of the hard-mouthed breed, and when he was inclined to wander far from the road in pursuit of tenderer and more abundant grass than the dusty roadside afforded, no tears, prayers, threats, or curses — no yanking of the bridle rein nor use of the rawhide whip on his gaunt sides could move him from his purpose. It was partly on account of this perversity of spirit and the leisurely gait of the brute that we had been nine hours covering about twenty miles. Once the horse had gotten rid of something less than a million of gnats and mos- quitoes, and also of me, by lying down and rolling over in a shallow and muddy stream with an inch of green scum on it. Again he had playfully twisted his long neck around and fastened his yellow teeth in the calf of my leg until I had roared with jiain ; and once he had suddenly kicked up his hinder heels and pitched me over his head into some blackberry bushes, to the unfeigned delight of a wagon- load of young people on their way to a county fair. Thus it was that I was glad to turn an abrupt bend in the road and find myself before a squatty little log cabin with a lean-to five-by-six feet in size. Several old hens and a rooster, who had shed their feathers until they were in a d6collet6 state requiring the attention of Anthony Comstock, were wallowing in dusty holes in a grassless dooryard, whde the prolilic mother of nine spotted pups of mongrel ancestry was stretched out with her numerous progeny around her under some alinost leafless gooseberry bushes. Other dogs of varying ages, breeds, and size were lying in the yard, and on a rickety little porch above the one door of the cabin. A long and attenuated man was lying flat on his back under a mulberry-tree, with a ragged straw hat over his lace and his hands clasped under the back of his head. The soles of his bare feet suggested a pair of infantile smoked hams, and he ap- peared to be serenely indifferent to the hens, in undress, pecking away at something between his toes. Reproach- ing myself for disturbing so much rural contentment, I gave utterance to a mild, "Hello !" The drowsy dogs lifted their heads and three or four of them yawped languidly, while the lean rooster attempted a feeble crow, but the effort was too much for him, and he fell over on his back with his claws in the air. The man pushed the hat from his sallow face, raised himself to his sharp elbows, and asked, " What's wantin' ?" This Was the manner of my introduction to the man who " fit with Gin'ral Grant." After "reckoning" thai he could " feed and sleep me," he put up my " boss crit- ter" in a stable in danger of dissolution at any moment, and graciously took up the role of the agreeable host. This was 'not, however, until he had sought to trace my genealogy back to a decade or two within the time of the landing of the Pilgrims, and he had also ascertained w'hat I " follered for a livin'," and how much I got for it. He also informed himself as to whether I was married or single, the number and sex of my children and their ages, my own age, and the general history of my wife, combined with exhaustive inquiry in regard to my business in " them parts." Accepting an invitation to be seated on a strip of rag carpet under the mulberry-tree, my host threw himself at full length by my side, and was soon giving me in glow- ing terms the account of his war record and of the great prosperity that was his " before the war." " If you're a mind to run your hand down my back under my shirt and feel under my left arm, you'll ieel there three buckshot I got peppered into me when I was doin' my duty at Vicksburg under Gin'ral 'Ljs Grant," he said. Thanking him for the privilege of feeling the buckshot but declining it, I said, " So you were on the field with General Grant himself, were you .''" " Wa-al, I reckon ! You see that mark on my right leg thar, jess below the knee ? Wa-al, that's another little mo- mentum of the time when I fit with Gin'ral Grant. Got that at Vicksburg, too. Grant he see the Johnny a-makin' for me with his sword raised to cut me down, an' if the gin'ral hadn't rushed up an' warded off the blow with his own sword, I reckon my jug'lar vein would of been cut through, an' then it would of been kingdom come with me. You notice that I walk with a limp, don't you .'" " I did notice it." " That's because of a bullet I got in my knee when 1 fit with Grant at Chattanoogy. I tell ye, we did some mighty purty work at that little scrimmage — mighty, mighty purty work. It was thar I knocked a rifle out o' the hands o' one o' the inimy who had it p'inted straight at the gin'ral's heart. He made me a captain for that, but one day he called me into his tent, an' he says, says he, " " ' Lookee here, Lem Bagg, some one is got to rig up as a spy an' work his way through the lines o' the inimy an' git full information as to how they are fixed an' all about em an' thar's just one man I Uin trust with the job, an' his name is Lem Bagg. If any man in the whole army kin do it you kin,' says he. • You willin' to accept o' tlie job ?' Well, I didn't hanker for the job, for you know what a spy gits when he £;its caught in the bizness. They plug him full o' shot an' feed him to the buzzards, which ain't none too dern pleasant, but I was ready to do any- thing foi- nw country, so I says to the gin'ral, says I, " ' 'Lys, I'm your huckleberry.' You see, we'd got so kind o' intermut by this time that he called me Lem an' I called him 'Lys. Well, 'Lys he clapped me on the back an' he says, says he, " • Bully for you, Lem Bagg ! I knowed 1 could trust you, an' if I'm ever President of these United States, as I'm apt to be sometime, all you'll have to do will be to give me the wink if you want to be in my cabbynet.' But I never hankered none for public life, so I never held the gin'ral to his word when he got to be President. Nancy, my wife, her that's in thar fryin' bacon an' hom'ny for your supper, she ruther tuk to the idee o' splurgin' 'round Washington as a cabbynet officer's wife, but I reasoned with her an' made her see how we'd be out of our speer. Then, it was well along in the spring o' the year an' we'd about twenty hens a-comin' off their nests with little chicks, so we couldn't leave home very well, even to see the gm'ral swore into office, so I writ him 'that he'd better app'int some one in my place. You notice that a piece o' my right ear is missin', don't you ?" " 1 see that it is." " A shot from one o' the inimy done that at Appomat- to.x, an' I remember how the gin'ral said at the time, ' That was a mighty close call, Lem,' an' he whipt out his hankercher for me to stanch the blood on, an' the ne.xt minnit me an' him cut down seventeen o' the inimy that come at us full with their bay 'nets p'inted right at us. I tell \ou, I never see the gin'ral fight as he did that day. He jist set his teeth, whipt off his coat, pushed up his sleeves, an' ' laid on, MacDulT,' as it says in the Bible ! We was both reekin' with gore when we got through, an' there was a bay'net stickin'four inches into my back. Tiie gin'ral puHed it out, an' I reckomember how he rigged me about bein' wounded in the back. He was the jokiest man you ever see on a battle-field. The thicker the shot the more he'd joke. I reckon you've heerd how his horse was shot from under him at Belmont, Missoury ?" " 1 think that I have read about it." " Wa-al, now you kin rest your gaze on the very identical man that lept from his own boss an' said, ' Here, gin'ral, take my nag,' when that happened. If I hadn't kind o' leaned over an' jerked him out o' the saddle he'd been caught under his dead hoss. He straddled my boss, an' in half a minnit was pepperin' away at the inimy as cool as a cowcumber, an' me foUerin' suit. I'd hate to say how many pore chaps we made bite the dust that day. It was thar to the battle o' Belmont that I got eight ribs stove in on my left side. If you keer to see 'em I'll slip off my shirt an' show you the marks. You don't want to trouble me ? No trouble, but if you don't keer to see 'em I'll keep on my shirt. But I alius offer to show 'em, so that folks will know I ain't lyin'. Anybody I natchely t/^^spise it's a liar. I don't wonder the good Lawd laid Annynias an' Sapphir)- out dead for lyin' the way they did. I've riz a fam'ly o' si.xteen children, an' thar ain't a liar in the hull bunch, no matter what thar other failln's may be. Some of 'em may take after thar maw in stretchin' the truth a leetle mite sometimes, but when it comes to out an' out lyin', they ain't in it. Too much o' their pap in 'em lor that. I forgot to tell ye that when I fit with Gin'ral Grant at Chattanoogy he says to me one day, sa\s lie "- • Nancy, or " maw," the lady whose veracity was not wholly unimpeachable, appeared in the open doorway of the cabin at this moment, and her voice cut the air like a blade when she said, • •' Lem Bagg, you lope out to the hen-house an' see it you caint find me no aig to cl'ar the coffee with ! Stir your stumps now right forthwith an' faster !" Obeying this command, the shot-filled, rib-broken and battle-scarred veteran of so many battle-fields on which he had " fit with Gin'ral Grant," proceetled to " lope " in the direction of the hen-house in pursuit of the desired "aig," while I strolled over to the open doorway of the rustic re- treat, with a view to asking for a pan and- some soap and water with which to remove some of the dust of my journey before we sat down to supper. Evicting three dogs with the toe of her shoe, and dragging a fat pup from the only chair in the room, Nancy bade me "set down" lor a few minutes, when she would be ready to "dish up." While waiting for the return of Lem I engaged in conversation with the lady who would have enjoyed "splurging" in Washington as the wife of a " cabbynet " officer. " Your husband had some rather e.\citing experiences in the war, I believe," I said by way of opening a con- versation. Nancy turned toward me with a slice ot sizzling bacon dripping hot fat on a fork, and said, " Him ? Lem Bagg in the war ? Now what has he been givin' you ? That man was drafted an' he put a mortgage on this place to hire a substitoot with, an' that mortgage ain't ever been lifted to this day. Much as ever we \C\x\ do to keep up the int'rust. Him in the war ? Lem Bagg ? He lay in the woods three months, he was that skeered o' bein' dratted a second time ! Lem Bagg in the war ? Not tnuch, he 'o/aii't .'" A shadow fell athwart the bare and dirty floor. It had been cast by Lem, who stood in the open doorway with an egg in his hand. He had heard his disloyal partner's last remark. A sickly grin oversprsud his pea-green vis- age, and he said, in a somewhat deprecating tone, " l\Iaw she does a-pick a feller up so. Say, mjster, would you like to go out to the stable an' see as purty a litter o' seven water spanyells as ever you laid eyes on ? Aint got their eyes open yet, but they show their breedin' all the same. You kin yell us in to supper when it's ready, Nance." We were still within hearing when Nance said de- risively, " Hitn in the war ! If tiiere was a prize offered for the biggest liar that ever stood on two laigs I reckon Lem Bagg would sure get it !" The Mean Thing ! Flossie — " Jack is a man after my own heart." Marie (sweetly) — " You 're sure it's not your own money that he is after ?" 3S-; ^^" CLEVER BEAR. Bear — "Heavens. Mr. President, don't shoot! thirty miles to liear you speak." I've come Nearing the End. jLl ETHUSEL.AH was in his nine hundred and sixty- eighth year. It was a long, dry summer, too, and Abelgad the Beehemite, and Obadad the Dinnymite, were frettmg over the drought. " Yes," quavered Methuselah, fidgeting with his stout cane, " it is pretty warm ; but I " — Here Abelgad and Obadad winked knowingly at each other. " But I," Methuselah continued, ■' can't say that I recollect any year that ever has given us such a long, dr\' spell." Then Obadad and Abelgad walked softly away, saying one to another that the old man was showing his first signs ot breaking down. Her Relations. 1a/E note that the handsome young woman wears many military buttons, badges, and other memenio^s. ■' Are you the daughter of the regi- ment ?" we ask. •' Oh, no, sir," responds the gentle thing; " hut I have promised to be a sister to all the officers." At this juncture we might have made a witty remark about a call to arms and the penalty for disregarding it, but because of her blushes we refrained. Sonnet. "THREE hours last night I walked the floor with pet, ■ And thrice on yon grim n)cker ran my toe. Now, had I, purposeful, by day tried so To strike that selfsame point, to win a bet, The goodness knows I'd not have hit it yet ! How strange it is the cruel hammer's blow Lands on my thumb with swift-ensuing woe And skips the nail on which my aim was set ! There is no cause of cussing in this world So cussed as the cussedness of things Which seem inanimate but aren't a bit. There's not one wild anathema I've hurled Full at them, driven to fury by their stings, But they have thrilled with fiendish joy at it. Modern Literary Business. jlVES, gentlemen," says the first promoter; "I will come in on the deal with you and help you to promote the combination on one condition." " And that is ?" asked the others. " That I have the privilege of writing the mag- azine expose of our dealings wMth the public." After forcing him to agree that all the rest shall have time to publish their articles on " How to suc- ceed " before he writes his article, the papers are signed. On Common Ground. /^XCE upon a time the barefaced truth met the bald lie. " Hello !" said the barefaced truth. " I am glad to meet you. What is your line of work ? ' •• I am a hair-restorer advertisement," said the other. " Shake !" responded the first. " I am a mustache- grower." I JCmevvThAT woijLC CrET THE end-seat hog retires from view with sum- mer days so fleet. Another porcine friend has come — the pigskin now we greet. 1 President — " A thousand pardons ! Dee-lighted to speak a few words. Would rather talk than shoot, I assure you." «^ W I o n o I- K f > o > n r o < r •< ID •< 1 \ 1 W era ^ S; n. 3 cr -; X n o o ?§. '^ 3 " a M W O G W o v A Mermaid and a Moral By La louche Hancock F YOU don't believe in mermaids at the present time. But think that ihey are fancies of old Homeric rhyme, Read this little story, and I'm sure you will not fail To honestly acknowledge that thereby hangs a tale ! Once upon a time, before the Coney Island season had opened, a young man — we will call him Harold, because it is a nice, old- fashioned name — was searching along the sands for something he had lost. He peered all around, but it was so dark he could hardly A H distinguish anything at all. When he came \j H to the brick breakwater with the rocks in ' ^1 front, he saw a lady. Only her head was vis- ible. The rest of her body was hidden. Har- old leaned over the breakwater and said quietly, " I beg your pardon ! You don't happen to have seen a pocket-book lying around, have you ? I lost mine some- where hereabouts, and I don't quite know how I am going to get back to New York unless I find it." The lady turned her head. " No ! I haven't seen it," she answered with a smde. She was good-looking, and her hair was hanging down her back. Harold had an eye for beauty. He continued the conversation. " Been bathing ?" he asked. •' X-o ! At least not more than usual." •' Rather cold this time of year, isn't it ?" he pursued. " I don't think so. I'm accustomed to it." Must be a cold-bath fiend, thought he to himself. He was too polite to say so. There was a pause. Then the lady said quietly, " \Vhat are you going to do ?" " Blessed if I know !" answered Harold. '• I wish I could help you." *• You're very good." " I'm sorry I can't. I have to wait here till the tide comes in and then go home." " Oh, indeed !" said Harold, thinking there was an ex- planation due here. " And, if I may be so rude, why have you to wait so long ? Ha.yej'ou lost anything ?" The lady laughed. " No ; but I can't move." •' Can I be of any help to you ? Are you hurt ?" " No, thanks ! It's my own stupidity. I'm quite com- fortable and have a lot of patience." Harold was getting bewildered. " You're a conundrum," said he with a grin. " I suppose .1 am," she replied. " I imagine you peo- ple would think me so." •• But, seriously, you'll catch your death of cold sitting there." " Oh, nonsense !" said the lady. " You don't under- stand. Haven't you got eyes ?" There w.is a swish, and Harold started back in sur- prise. There wasn't the least doubt about it. He was talking to a mermaid ! " Now, do you know any better ?" Harold gasped. " Oh, I see ! but it was rather unexpected, you must admit. I've never seen one of your kind before." "That's not very politely put. Well, what do you think of the — shall we say — novelty ?" " I'm rather interested. May I ask " " Are you going to interview me ?" " You'd make rather a good story." " Maybe I would, but nobody would believe you." " Oh, I don't know," he mused. " It's about the tim<» for sea-serpents !" "Well, I call that downright rude." " I beg your pardon," spluttered Harold. " You've every reason to." Then, after a pause, "Why not sit down and talk quietly ? I've got to wait ; so have you. Let's employ the time in conversation." Harold climbed over the wall on to the rocks. " Now sit down there. Don't come any nearer. You'll find me rather wet. I suppose you 're surprised to see me ?" " Rather !" " Not afraid ?" " Never been afraid of a woman in my life !" " You're deliciously blunt !" "But," began Harold, finding he had met his equal in repartee, " how is it you can talk ?" " Well, you see I'm only half fish." " Ye-es ! I noticed that." " I can talk and swim, but I can't walk. That's why I'm in this predicament." " But how did you get here ?" " Stupidity ! I came a little too far in, and, as the tide wasn't particularly strong going out, I found myself stranded on these rocks." •' What will your — er — family think r" " 1 don't imagine they'll miss me. There are a good many more at home like me." She laughed. " You seem to be well educated and up to date." " Why not ? We have an immense circulating library and heaps of music." •> Indeed ?" " Yes ; so many ships with good libraries are wrecked during the year. The books come to us, of course. As for music, well, you knov there's a good deal of playing and singing on board shij). We get all the flotsanv and jetsam iii ease of accident. Oh, yes ! we're quite up to date, I can assure you." " Do you sing ?" " Like a siren !" The ^-comparison brought back memories. He was ■ going46 ask her to sing, but — she anticipated him. ■' I'll sing you something of my own composition, if you lilS ALLOW ME TO PRESENT TO VOl', BOTH OF YOU, MR. CLARK, BOTH OF THEM. ^ the room that it dawned on him what it was for. Then he smiled. So there had been two sides — yes, four sides — to the puzzle. If Daise and Uot had mystified Albert and Herbert they in turn had been as hopelessly at sea. Then he smiled again, for, lo ! woman's wit had made the thing simple when the time came. Daise came now and saw the giver of the card waiting for her. " How are you, Mr. Herbert ?" was her laughing welcome. " So you are Albert ?" broke from Dot on the other side of the room. The twins were acquainted. M. C. KITTREDGE. Pride. (( VES, madam," said the physician ; " your little daugh- ter's foot seems to have been bruised severely, that is all. Probably she struck it against a stone, or the wall. At any rate, you need not worry. I would suggest that you apply the old-fashioned remedy — a bread-and-milk poultice." " How common !" murmured the proud mamma, whose husband, by the way, had just succeeded in turning another million-dollar trick in stocks. " Bread-and-milk poultice ! Doctor, don't you think it would be more in accord with our position in society if we used a poultice cf cake and ice-cream ?" On the Installment Plan. (( UIOW can your folks afford to have so many children, ' ' Bobby ?" we ask the little boy. " "Well, we don't get 'em all at once ; we get 'em a little at a time, on the installment plan," he replies. ' As Ever. /^LD winter, wrapped in furs, has passed away ^-^ And gentle spring has come — in neglige. Upon the dear departed we bestow One sneeze in memory of its ice and snow, Then flaunt our shirt-waists where the sunbeams play- But hark ! What sound is here — what note Rasp out from open-worked and laced-garbed throat? Upon the smiling spring we throw A look suspicious ; then we go And bring our flannels back from trunks remote. LURANA W. SHELDON.- Scooping up the Wreckage. THE owner of the racing automobile was a novpce at the' sport. Naturally, he felt rather mystified when the expert driver handed him the following bill on the morn- ing after the race : Gasoline $ 60.00 Repairs to car 700.00 Cutting expenses 1,000.00 $1,760 00 "What the deuce," said the amateur owner, " is the meaning of this item, ' Cutting expenses' ?" "Oh, that," observed the chauffeur carelessly, "repre- sents the surgeon's fee for renovating my mechanic." Took First Prize. H \AV dog took first prize at a cat-show." " How was that ?" " He took the cat." ' TOO MUCH FOR HIM. The elephant — " So your marriage with IVIiss Grizzly Bear was an unhappy one?" The hippo — " I should say so. No matter how hard I worked for her she did nothing but growl from morning till night." p^ h^ (V^-S^ U/7 A Few Uplifting Remarks on Spring SPRING is with us once more, and the heart is glad. It was a long, severe winter, and the exposure was something frightful ; but now, glory be ! that is all past, or near-past, and we have the almost joyous feeling again as if we were real people. Most of us have been investigated, or else we have been investigating others, and the biting blasts pro and con have been very hard on the health ; but, thanks to rugged constitutions, most of us have pulled through. Some fell through, if they did not pull through ; but they got through and that's the main thing. .The earth onoe more smiles with the beauty of all green and growing things, and congress is talking of adjournment, so that we have ,every reason to feel that the worst is over. Wherever the eye rests to-day some cheering sight rewards its effort to rest at that point, and from far-away Jolo to the remotest confines of Coney Island there is a languorous note of e.xpectancy, a dreamy, wait- ing hush, and just the merest hint of a ripening blush, as we look for the first bathing-suit to glide shiveringly but with firm tread across the glistening, golden sands. The wide-embracing vault of blue now lifts itself in azure magnificence on invisible columns of cobalt and erythrite, and a glorious sense of expense and reckless disregard of cost prevails on every hand. Down in the barnyard stands a beautiful hen palpitant, in feathers of chryso- prase and charcoal drifted with snow, and her song is ol the eggs of Carrara whiteness or wheat- rust brown which she has offered her owner with every show ol effortless joy and unselfish devo- tion to mankind. The hills (wherever there are hills) are now robed in garments of lus- trous enchantment, and the farmer places salt-licks at convenient intervals in fields dotted with lowing kine. The modest dandelion lifis its head on the lawn, and the owner thereof whetteth the carving-knife, so that in due season he may hew said dandelion off at the root however, some of Nature's beauty spills over and we get the crumbs— and for this we are thankful. Yea, we are almost glad. ,. ^^. Effectual. (( IVI'^-''- JONES put something in her husband's coffee to make him stop drinking." " Did it stop him from drinking V " Well, it stopped him from drinking coffee." ' It Depended. Wife — " How do you like my new Easter gown ?"■ Husband — " Let me see the bill for it." THERE is no more insufferable bore than the man who has so much common sense that he has no imagina- Sounded Like an Opera. ILiY FRIEND stutters badly. He can sing divinely, but when he attempts conversation he sounds like a battery of rapid-fire- guns. The other day I saw him walk over and take up the telephone. This was the conversation : " Number ?" asked Central. " B-b-bbub-bub-bla-blank " said Smith, and stopped. " Number ?" (wearily.) " Bub-bub-b-b-bla-blank s-s- sev-sev-seven f-four t-t-two." "NUMBER?" (sharply.) He tried it again and managed' it after a fashion. B-r-r-r-rak-RAK— •• Hello !" " Hel-hel-hello ! Is that y- you, M-mum-mum-miss J-Jones ?" "Yes. Is that you, Mr_ Smith ?" came over the wire. " Y-yes. G-g-good-even-n-n-evening. W-w.w-w-will you g-g-g-gug-gug-gug-go-go — w-w-will you gug-gug- gug-gug " Poor Smith gasped, gurgled and wiped the perspiration ■ and utterly destroy it forever. Thus the procession of from his brow ; then his face brightened, and he sang the following into the 'phone to the tune of " Solomon Levi " :; " I've got two elegant tickets For Friday evening's show. I'd like to have you there with me — I Miss Ethel, will you go ?" Presently a hysterical voice crept back over the wire. " Why, sure ! But at first I thought you were the open- ing overture, Dick." lowell otus rehse. awakening loveliness moves across the earth in a pageant of unrivaled splendor, and the " giddap " of the solitary plowman echoes o'er the smoking furrows of the mead. To the right of us, as we write, is a spreading glebe " for sale," and to the left of us is another large, open section of the earth's surface which is not ours ; but Nature is smiling on everything just the same as if everybody were good. Thus do we see how peculiar Nature is in all her ways. We could almost wish we owned some of Nature at this time, like the millionaires, but the price is too extensive. In the richness of this glad Easter hour, Tramp — " Lady, I am dying from exposure." Woman — " Are you tramp, politician, or financier ?" {^li An Acrostic. lUMPING about the country, *' Looking for wrong and right, Into each well-hid cranny Nosing with all his might. " Catching a crook a minute, Opening many a sore ; Losing no half-way cliance for Naming one rascal more. Seeing with optics ruthless, Things the corrupt Would hide ; Endlessly asking questions — Fearless, 'tis not denied. Finding a wealth of subjects Everywhere he goes — Now that you've read his ti le. • See if 'tis who you s'pose ! s. w. g. An Act of Charity. Mother (during Lent) — " Well, Willie, I hope you have 4]one some charitable act to-day." Son — " Yes, ma. I licked Johnny Bulger so bad that fie won't be able to go to school again for a week." Woman — " Now, if you don't leave at once I'll call my husband — and he's an old Harvard football player." . Tramp — "Lady, if yer love him don't call him out. I (used to play wid Yale." His Choice. THERE was nothing wild in the caller's manner, so the lady at the employment - bureau desk was rather startled when he told his wants. " I wish to engage a cook," he observed. " Fancy or plain .'" she said. " Plain — homely as 3in," he replied. " In fact, I don't care whether she can cook or not. Any old thinjj^ that looks like a cook will do." ..Really, I" "And if "she drinks, smokes, or steals silver, so much the better." " Goodness me ! what " " I specially desire that she be very strong and in the habit of beating her employer with a club." " L^pon my word ! ' " In short, I want a rampant, athletic, rip-roaring ter- ror, and I can promise good wages." The lady at the desk was begging Central to connect her with the police department. "Hold on !" explained the caller. "Allow me to say that the domestic I seek will be in the employ of my wife's mother." (( I COULDN'T get a seat in the cars to-day." "Oh, that's a complaint of long standing.' COULD DO IT AGAIN. Mr. Gotrox — " Suppose I were to tell you that I was a bankrupt— that every dollar of my fortune had been swept away — would you still be willing to marry my daughter ?" Cholly Softly (enthusiastically) — '• Why, of course I would ! Such a man as you could easily pitch in and make another fortune, sir." <^''? Well Secured. li/HEN a prominent ' American was in Eu- rope last, the story goes, he visited Westminster Abbey for the first time. As he was contemplating the tomb of Nelson, the guide said, " That, sir, his the toml) of the greatest naval 'ero Europe or the whole world never icnew — Lord Nel- son's. This marble sar- coughogus weighs forty- two tons. .Hinside that his a. steel receptacle weigh- ing twelve tons, and hin- side that his a leaden cas- ket, 'ermetrically sealed, weighing over two tons. Hinside that his a mahog- any coffin, 'oldjng the ash- es of the great ero." " Well," said the Ameri- can, after thinking a while, " I guess you've got him. If he ever gets out of that, cable me at my e.\- pense." ABBIE N. SMITH. FLIRTATIOUS. Life 's a jest, and all things sliow it. I thought so once, and now I know it." A Catch. tl HOW did you and your wife first meet ?' " Oh, we didn't meet," replied '^' ' she overtook me." the meek little INCREDULOUS. Fairy — " And this noble prince will love you for yourself alone" Up-to-date miss — " Oh, tell that to the marines." The Roadside Text. A SALVATION Army •^ artist endeavored to attract the attention of the wicked world by painting scriptural vvarnipgs on the farm fences along the high- way. At one place he inscribed t h e query, " What shall I do to be saved ?" The ne.\t day a patent-medicine advertiser came along and wrote on the board below, " Take Soand- so's Pills." The follow- ing day the Salvation- ist was out that way again' and he wrote be- low, " And prepare to meet thy God." D.WID JULLS. Mr. Hinkic Takes a Rest By Wilbur Ncsbit ZEBULON HINKLEhad finished his breakfast ot crackers and milk, had looked fretfully upon the cofTee when it was black and gave forth its seductive odor, had gazed wistfully upon the bacon and eggs, and had said a few things about the physician who had condemned him to two months' life in what he called " this God - forsaken place." He had reached the said place the evening before, and had been provided with a room which contained a bed the which was as hard as some newspapers had asserted Zebulon HinklS's heart was. There being nothing — absolutely nothing — to do or see during the evening, Zebulon Hinkle had gone to bed at eight-thirty o'clock, and, after rolling and tossing for what he believed to be five hours, he had gone to sleep at nine o'clock, and had awakened at five. It was now seven. Mr. Hinkle walked out to the veranda of the little hotel and looked idly upon the village street. He took a cigar from his pocket and chewed upon it. The doctor told him he must not smoke. The city papers would not reach there until eleven in the morning. Zebulon Hinkle sat down in a wide chair and asked himself what kind of a place this was anyhow ! His doctor had told him he needed absolute rest. He must let go of business cares ; he must confine himself to a diet that was really adapted to a three-year-old child ; he must not smoke ; he must not drink — he did not need this instruction, for Zebulon Hinkle long ago had realized that the pursuit of business interferes with drinking and had given up the social glass — he must forget business, and he must not worry. His doctor was the only man on earth who could tell him something he must do, and get away with it, Hinkle mused. He had given his word, and he would do the two months' time, if it killed him ; be- cause his doctor had said if he didn't do the two months' time it would be sure to kill him. And Zebulon Hinkle was not the man to give any one the satisfaction of read- ing nis epitaph, if he could help it. Mr. Hinkle might have had a whole morning of un- alloyed rest, with nothing to do but contemplate the bees that bustled in and out among the flowers, and the village dray that aimlessly wandered down street and back again, now with a kit of mackerel, now with a keg of nails, doing its little best to create a hum of commerce. He might have had the whole morning for this placid contemplation ol the hustling bfees and the languid dray horse, and still more languid drayman, had not the landlord held low-voiced converse with a young man who wore a glittering watch- chain across his bosom and allowed his hair to play Henry Clay with his forehead. " It's nobody else," the landlord told the young man, who had drifted in to inquire if there was any news. " It's old Zeb Hinkle, the same that gets cartooned and written up every time a new railroad is merged. Yes, sir ; and he's to stay here two months to get rid of the dyspepsia." " Here ?" inquired the young man. " Here ? To get rid of the dyspepsia ? Great Scott 1 Morgan, if anybody was looking for the best place in the world to get dys- pepsia I'd send him to your hotel." The landlord laughed at the jest with the satisfied laugh of a man who knows he has the only hotel in town. " Why don't you interview him ?" he asked. " What about ?" asked the young man. " He wouldn't talk. He never does. Every time the big papers try to get him to tell anything he doesn't care to be quoted." " Maybe the big papers send young fools to interview him — same sort of smart alecks as you are," suggested the landlord thoughtfully. The young man bridled up at this, then, without emit- ting the caustic retort he had in mind, he turned about and walked to the veranda. •' Mr. Hinkle, I believe," he said, stopping in front of that gentleman. " You can pin your faith to that," observed Zebulon Hinkle, without looking awav from a bee that was pump- ing for dear life on a honeysuckle. "Would you be good enough to give me an interview for the Argus ?" Mr. Hinkle looked up at this. " What Argus ?" he demanded. " The McCordsville Argus." " Printed here .''" " Yes, sir. I am the city editor." " Is that so ?" " Yes, sir. I am also the managing editor, the sport- ing editor, the exchange editor, the religious editor, the horse editor, the snake editor, the railway editor, the po- litical editor, the fashion " " That'll do. All of you sit down." The young man sat down. " What is the name of all these editors ?" Hinkle in- quired. " James Gordon." " You must be sort of a " " Sort of an editorial trust." Mr. Hinkle laughed at this, and then said, " I suppose you take your immunity bath in the creek, do you ?" " Every Saturday in the summer. In winter they open the bath-tub in the rear ot the barber-shop." " Good enough I Well, Mr. Gordon, does it keep you busy getting news for the McCordsville Argus ?" •' It would if there were any news to get. You are about the only item that has happened since last week." " And what do you want to write about me ? Got any pictures of the iron heel of capital crunching the neck of labor ? Got any bloated monopolists yanking bread and butter away from starving children ?" " No, sir. I think if you would give me a good talk on how to succeed in the world it would really be a help to the young men of this town. " ^v \;i,:!,,H « *lif*l'.'f/, •• W6rk." " That's what they all say — but they don't let you work at their jobs." " Make your own job." " Can't get a paymaster always." " Well, advice doesn't help much." " No. E.xample counts. Suppose, Mr. Hinkle, you would simply tell me something that will illustrate the best way to get ahead." " You mean to make money when you say ' to get ahead ' ? " " Of course." " Hum-m-m. Well, let me see." Zebulon Hinkle contracted his brows and his eyes took on a far-away look. He con- templated the street studiously. Suddenly his face cleared and he asked, " Who owns that vacant ground across the railroad ?" " Amos Ransom." " Is it for sale ?" " I suppose so. But what " ■" Do you know him ?" •" Yes, sir. But you were going to " ■" I know it. I'm going to. You watch me. Can you ifind Amos Ransom ?" " I think so." " Tell him to come and see me. I want to buy that .land." The reporter hurried away to convey the glad tidings to Amos Ransom, and for* a quarter of an hour Zebulon Hinkle sat and looked happy. Then Gordon brought Ransom up on the veranda and introduced him to Mr. Hinkle. •' How much do you want for that ground over there by the railroad ?" Mr. Hinkle shot the question at Ransom so suddenly that he was well-nigh taken off his feet. He sat down and fanned himself with his hat. He had wanted to sell that land for ten years, but never could find a purcnaser. Ransom had taken it on a mortgage, as he had accumu- lated nearly all his farms. He was considered the wealth- iest man in McCordsville, and the meanest. But here was some more of his confounded^luck ! Zebulon Hinkle was going to buy that vacant land. " It's worth considerable," Ransom managed to say. "Is it worth two thousand dollars ?" " No — er — yes, sir. It's worth at least that." •'■ Bring me a deed to it and I'll give you a check. THE ALTERNATIVE. Captain of the Red Rover — " Go it, boys ! Business has been so bad lately that if we don't bag that bloody liooker we will all have to get into the summer-hotel biz." And say," Hinkle added, " my young friend, Mr. Gordon, gets his commission for making the sale, doesn't he ?" Gordon listened with amazement. "Commission ?" Ransom asked wonderingly. "Why, he hasn't done anything." " Oh, yes, he has. He got me interested in it. He gets ten per cent, commission, doesn't he ?" "Why, if you think he ought to have it, I suppose he. must." Ransom shed inward tears over the prospect of trust- ing young Gordon with such a huge sum at his age ; it was too great a financial responsibility for such a youth ; it was thrusting temptation in his way — but the land was worth perhaps eight hundred, so he might as well agree to the foolish proposition. " All right, then," Hinkle said, conclusively. " Bring the deed and get the money. And say, Gordon, you be on hand and get your commission." At four o'clock that afternoon all rights, title, heredita- ments, jointures, incumbrances and everything else con- nected with the vacant land passed into the ownership of Zebulon Hinkle, and at the same time a check for two hundred dollars, signed by Amos Ransom, was handed to James Gordon. " I'm sure I'm much obliged," Gordon said, after Ran- som had gone on his way rejoicing. " I never dreamed of such a stroke of luck as tliis. You are more than kind, Mr. Hinkle." " Tut, tut ! You deserved the commission. Besides, I'll bet you're the first man that ever made any profit off of that man Ransom." BRE.\KING THE INFATUATION. Mrs. Jones — "I'm afraid our Lucy is falling in love with Ferdinand Fiveaweek." Mr. Jones— "I'll stop tliat. I'll let her know that I've got a husband all picked out for her." Mrs. Jones—" That won't change her a bit." Mr. Jones—" Yes, it will. I'll tell her I've picked Ferdinand ; then she'll be sure to want the other fellow." " I am ; but what will you do with the land ?" Zebulon Hinkle turnecl to him with a suggestive lower- ing of his left eyelash. " It is currently believed that I always know what I am about, is it not ?" " Yes." " Well, I am not in a position to tell you right away what I'll do with that land, but I don't mind saying one thing : I'm going to make money out of it. You asked for an illustration of how to succeed, and I'm going to give you an easy lesson right here at home. You've had part of the lesson. Did you ever make two hundred dol- lars easier ?" " I should say not." " You probably never will again. I am now in the hole two thousand — unless I do what I mean to do with that land." •• Can I print that you have bought it ?" "Exactly. Do that very thing. And if anybody asks you what I am going to do with it, say that I won't tell. Because I won't." By the end of that week people had rallied from the first shock of surprise over the news that Hinkle had bought Ransom's vacant lots, and were beginning to ask themselves and others what Hinkle would do with the property. They asked Ransom. " Hanged if I know," he said. " All I know is it was the best sale I ever made. Got twice what the piece is worth." "But Zebulon Hinkle doesn't throw his money away," some one stated. "■He did this time," Ransom chuckled, and everybody felt sorry for Hinkle and twice as sore as ever on Ran- som, until some one observed, " I wouldn't be so sure about that." "Why, look at the land," Ransom argued. "You can't hardly raise good pasture on it." " Hinkle doesn't raise pasture," some one said. " You bet he don't," some one else commented. " He knew what he was doing. Maybe he's going to buy the railroad and wants that land for yards, or a shop, or a depot, or something." This was new light for Ransom and he looked baffled. " Y'es," argued someone else in the crowd. "And I read that he has made pots of money out of copper and coal oil and things like that. I'll bet he's 'got inside infor- mation that there's ore or coal or oil under that ground — and he's naturally skinned you, Ransom." " Shucks !" was Ransom's reply. But the seed of doubt had been planted in his bosom, and within the next week it had sprouted, grown, blossomed and was bearing large bitter apples of regret. He went to see Hinkle and found him engaged in his enforced occupation of watch- ing the bees and the drayman. u:^3 " Mr. Hinkle," Ransom asked, " might I inquire what you are going to do with that land you bought off of me ?" " I'm going to leave it right where it is Mr. Ransom. Got any objections ?" " No, sir. I just wanted to know." " You'll know all about it in good time. Satisfied with your bargain, weren't you ?" ■• Ye-es." " Then that's all you need to know. Good-day. I'm very busy just now." And for three weeks more Amos Ransom was harassed by doubt, by the chilling fear that for once he had let something get away from him before he had been able to squeeze it drj- of profit. He brooded over it. It went to meals with him ; it went to bed with him and sat upon his chest and would not let him sleep. He pictured great factories on the land that had once been his ; he imagined railway terminals there ; he conceived oil wells and ore shafts — and always he saw Zebulon Hinkle waxing fat and joyous over wagon-loads of money that were being hauled from the vacant lots he had purchased for a paltry two thousand dollars. The demon of perturbation accom- panied him to church and interfered with his enjoyment of the way the minister lambasted the wicked. At last he could stand it no longer. He sought out Gordon and said to him, '• Do you think that man Hinkle would sell that land back to me ?" " Do you want to buy it back ?" '• Well, I've been thinking maybe I could use it." " I don't mind asking him." " I wish you would. And, say, Gordon, if you get him to sell it back to me I — I don't mind giving you five dol- lars." " No. My commission would have to be cent." " But he had me pay you before." " I know. But it was you that was making the profit, and this time it seems to be the same way." " Well, if I've got to, I've got to. I'll do the same as I did before — ten per cent. But hurry and see him before he decides to do something else." Gordon laid the matter before Hinkle and he said to bring Ransom around. Ransom came quickly. " You want to buy the land back ?" Hinkle asked. " I was thinking maybe you would like to sell." " You can have it for twenty-five hundred dollars." " What ! Why, you only paid me two thousand, and I gave Gordon " " You're doing this. I'm not asking you to buy. You asked for a price. If that isn't satisfactor)- come and see me next week. The price will be different then — very differ- ent, I assure you." ten per Ransom looked hard at his shoes for a while, and then said, •• I'll do it." " And Gordon gets his commission ?" " Yes. I promised to give him two hundred, same as before," painfully answered Ransom. " No. You promised me ten per cent.," Gordon said. " Ten per cent, is two hundred and fifty. Thai's right." " But I — but he " " Come, come ! Business is business," Hinkle de- clared. ." I can't waste any more time." " All right, if I've got to," Ransom almost wept. The deed changed hands once more, Hinkle got his check and Gordon his money. Then Ransom hurried away. " I'm much obliged again," Gordon said. " I never dreamed of such another piece of luck." " You want to quit trying to dream." '• By the way, Mr. Hinkle, you were going to give me some material for an article on " " My dear boy ! You asked me to show you how to make money. Haven't I shown you .' That's the way. Now go ahead." "Then you didn't want that land at all, and you onlv bought it to show me " " You are slowly beginning to see things. I'm going home to-night. I thmk I'm well again. If I stay here you'll have me running a night school, young man." Then he shook hands with Gordon and told him good- bye, and went to his room to consult time-tables, while Gordon hastened to the other end of McCordsville to con- sult a girl about his future. For when a young man can make four hundred and fifty dollars inside of a month his future is something to be reckoned with by any thoughtful young woman, is it not ? There is no insurance against the accident of birth. u;^. HE HAD ALL THE SIGNS OF THE ZODIAC. Goat — " Gee whir ! I got 'em this time for sure. ' ' Nan — "What! been eatin' beer corks again?" Goat — "No ; I just finished half a dozen new almanacs." <^i^ The Troubles of Olaf Nordenskold MR. HiECTOR DUSELMANN, mayor of Pinliook, was visited in his office last evening by Olaf Nor- denskold, a rich farmer seven miles north of town, who had just come in from his place in a disheveled condition and in a screaming rage. '• Vat kin' av country you call dis ?" cried the angry farmer, shaking a threatening finger under the nose of the chief officer of the town. " Ay call it hal av country, an' Ay can prove dat Ay ban right. Ay got hay to sail — man in town want hay to buy. Ay load up load av hay an' start haul him to man in town. Ay got good horse on my vagon — no o.xen on my vagon — good horse. He wave his tail ; he keek his heel ; he yump an' pull dey line. Ay ban on dey load hay an' got planty business drive dat team — got hal yob dey don't run 'vay. Yoost ven Ay ban von mile on road oop come sachs Irishmans, an' he got 'bout feefty catties — goot fat catties he drive to town to sail. Dem Irishmans ban all vild like crazy mans, an' yall an' yall an' yall, an' Ay ban skart an' my horse he run. Ay hoi' on dem horse an' pull an" pull lak hal. Dem horse he dancin' an' cuttin' all kin' treeks, an' Ay ban skarter an' skarter. Dann dem feefty catties he yump for dat hay, an' dem sachs Irish- mans he laff an' yall an' let dem catties yump. Ay t'ank dem catties naver ban had some sooch good hay lak dem. Dey eat an' eat an' eat lak avery catties ban two davels, an' mine hay he goin' fast. Venn Ay yall at dem catties my horse he t'ank Ay yall by heem, an' he yump an' keek an' pull on dey line lak steam-an-gine. An' denn dem sachs Irishmans he all laff an' holler, too, an' all dem say ' Ole, Ole, Ole !' an' keep seekin' dem cat- ties on dem hay. Pratty soon my horse dey run two mile lak hal, an' Ay lose off mine hat off an' ban skart lak rabbit. Dem catties run, too, an' dem Irishmans run, too, an' all dey time dem catties eat hay, an' all eat hay on gee side dat load of hay, an' purty soon bimeby after little vile dem hay all gone on dem side vere dem catties ban, an' von dem catties bite off dem hay-rope dat hoi' dem binder-pole down, an' dem binder-pole fly oop high in dey sky, an' Ay fly, too, an' fall down on dem back by mine horse, an' dere on hees back Ay ride deny horse while dey run vunce more two mile lak railroad-car, an' dem hay all fall on dey- road an' dem Irishmans seekin' dem cat- ties on dem hay. Ay ban feefty times so mad lak hal, an' venn sooch t'angs moost in dis country be Ay leef dis country an' go by Sweden back. Tall me, Mr. Duselmann ; vat skall dis country do by dem davels Irishmans ?" The mayor promised to see about it, and the raging Scandinavian went away. pra j. parker. The House of Mirth — A Tale of Tears IT WAS eight o'clock on the morning of Saint Patrick's Day. This has nothing to do with the story, but it is a fact none the less. James Hyslop Jones was on his way to work. He was in the crush of a New York street-car — hanging to a strap in the centre-rush of one of those sumptuous vehicles that ply across town from river to river. James H. Jones bore about him the elegant finish and shop-worn look that betokened an expensive past now giving place to somethmg slightly less expensive and a trifle insouciant. The practiced eye (there happened to be one present) could see that there had been a time when J. H. J. was a young man of high cost ; but now he was distinctly measurable and computable, and might not unfairly have been inventoried at fifty dollars over all. James Hyslop Jones had sat up all night reading " The House of Mirth." It had awakened memories. This morn- ing these memories crowded upon him. The crowded condition of the Inter-Met's trolley may have caused these memories to crowd upon James. He thought of the time when his family was rich and his relatives were rich and his friends were rich. Everybody was rich and none had anything to do. How wretched was the gilded emptiness of that old life, yet how happy ! How they had hated it and yet clung to it !• The conductor held out the usual slim, clean, beautiful conductorial hand for his fare, and James shuddered. How different from the old upholstered luxuriance when he had tipped the butler one bone for a glass of water ! Just then a ninety-horse- power Mercedes ran into the car and killed three people, and James groaned. It brought back as nothing else could the traumerei and welt-schmerz, the silken affluence and leisurely manslaugh- ter of the old, rich, elegant, aristocratic life now gone from him forever. Then he thought of the day when his father lost all and died while his mother with extreme difficulty re- frained from giving him a piece of her mind. Alas ! what days had followed ! How he had assembled the fragments of his intellect and learned a trade — a sickening business where he was' torced to render an equivalent for cash re- ceived ! James Hyslcp Jones's head fell upon his breast, and he wept. But not for long. His old courage re. turned — the fixed courage of despair. The car stopped. The car-crowd was so great as he fought toward the exit he lost his breath. He went out without it. The car was rapidly filling with lost breaths. James entered a tall, coarse building. It had come to this at last. He was working for a living. This heir to idle elegance and par- venu ease was now earning a piuful fifty dollars a week. Oh. what a bunch of sadness this old world is ! Jack — ' Edna — CANDID. How is it you lavish so much affection on those dumb brutes ?" ■ For want of something better." Progress, JLl AN," said Motor, as he opened the throttle and shoved the lever over to the last speed-notch, " has indeed accornplished.many things. Under the spell of this sport's exhilaration I realize, as never before, that we are indeed but little lower than the angels." •• Smash ! Zzzzzzzrip !" said the machine. '•By George!" said Motor twenty seconds later, " I was wrong, after all. We're on a level with them now and will be above them in another sec- ond." Foreign Titles. Auditor — " But why do you call your lecture ' Radium" when you don't mention that article at any stage of the eve- ning's talk .'" Lecturer — "Well, knowing the fondness of the American people for foreign titles, I made one bold stroke for popular- ity by choosing a title as toreign as possible to my lecture." What Punctured It. v'*. . --,<«? Timid Henry— •• to have a wooden leg." Hattie— •• Oh. I don't know STRUCK OUT. I seen a feller with a wooden leg to-d^y, Hattie ; it must be terrible it isn't as bad as having a wooden arm." ^2-7 FIFTH AVENUE IN JUN(;LFVILLE ON EASTER DAY. Miss Hippo — " It certainly was a clever idea of mine to hire this bird-of-paradise to sit on my head for i .'ew hours- I've got the swellest hat on the avenue." Politeness. THE little girl had been assiduousl}' instructed in the arts and graces of courtesy, and when she told her mamma how the strange boy at the party had kissed her she did it with a demure, reserved air that would have delighted her mamma under other circumstances. " And he kissed me," she said. " Kissed you !" the mamma e.xclaimed. " And you, Gladys — what did you do ?" " Mamma, I didn't forget my politeness. I said ' Thank you.'" Graft. Bobbie — " Papa, w-hat is graft ?" Papa — " It is getting something because you re in a position to get it." Bobbie — " Then am I grafting when you place me over your knee in a position to get it ?" Papa's Opinion. Ethel — " 1 showed papa one of your poems and he was delighted." Scribbler — " Indeed !" E//tfl- '-Yes; said it was so bad he thought you'd probably be able to earn a living at something else." Out. A BLISSFUL feeling fills my frame ; '■ I'm free to wander where I may, And life is like a merry game Which children play. No more I languish, sigh and pine ; No more I frown and fume and fret. A joy divine to-day is mine — I'm out of debt ! No more I languish, sigh and pine. While sorrow preys upon my heart And worry of this life of mine Becomes a part. No more I frown and fume and fret ; I walk with laughter hand-in-glove. Fur I'm not only out of debt, But out of love ! WII.LIS LEON.\KD CL.\NAH.\N A Paradox. Cus/onicr — " Have you some of that corned beef you let me have a can of the last time I was in here ?" Grocer — " No ; I am sorry to say I haven't. That was- a very fine brand of beef, but nobody would buy it, so I sold it." £ f- 5 P f- y; H w; (< ^ The "Having" of Al^y By Strickland W. Gillilan HERE have been subsequential in- terims when I could have been dis- suaded to suspect that we'd played ? several others besides Invention. \i' She's no race-suicidist, as President yijf Ellicott of Hartford would say. ^ "* When Alex and I had got ■^^^ ^ through — quite through, thanl to the union station, and you'll waste a lot of valuable time if you wonder why. Our legs may know. They took us. There were just as many brains in those mem- bers as in our cranial concavities at that time. Same legs went around the end of a bench and sat down. That's how we came to be sitting there, and it shows you just how much our intentions had to do with what followed ; and how fate jiu-jitsued or osteopathed the whole affair. And — well, if I didn't pretty nearly forget the daffy Dane in this little Hamlet of mine ! On the way down street, past the Mondamin hotel, we saw a rube just ahead drop a package of papers. He walked on, unbeknowing of his loss. When Alex's foot hit the package his back bent of its own accord and his right hand picked up the thing and dropped it into his side coat-pocket. He would have called to the rube if his voice had wanted to, but there was no vocal demonstration. There seemed to be no steam in the gauge. Nothing about us was working, but arms and legs, understand, since that jack-vessel had been opened for the other fellows' benefit. I wouldn't undertake to say how long we'd been sitting on that waiting-room bench at the union station, when words began to trickle over us. Then they cascaded — just fairly Niagaried and cataracted and eddied and whirlpooled over and around us. Part of the time we were in the Cave of the Winds, and part of the time going through the rapids in a bafrel. We looked around. A fellow with a blazing red face, lit up with one round oriole window, sat on the seat that backed up to ours and let his vocabulary Jiave continuous hemorrhages. You know how one of that brand of Englishers wdl talk — that kmd with iron-gray fire-escape whiskers and a red polka-dot vest. You know how He likes to listen to the siren voice of himself — well, this was a large, dis- play, bold-face, head-letter type of that branch of the gen- eral order of anthrops. And these, or as nearly these as anybody except a fast-revolving phonograph could have caught it, were his remarks : " Ya-as, y' know, it's a bloomin' shyme, y' know, the w\, me fellow-countrymen come to the stytes and are regu- lawly had, y' know. I remawked to Lud Whifflelon- Smythe, just before leaving the othaw side, y' know, that I'd jolly well show the bloomin' Yankees a few tricks, y' know. I myke no bownes of the fact that I have any quantity of money, y' know, but not a sixpunts gows until I discovah a — what you call a bawgain, y' know. I shall not visit the mines, the Indian reservytions or any othaw doubtful plyces. I shall keep me eyes open until I find some, bloomin' good fawming land, properly impwoved, that its owneh must pawt with at a sacwifize, y' know. Ha-ha ! Ha.ha ! Deuced good, clevah plan, y' know, eh ?■■ That was his line, and it naturally woke us up. Half a minute before Algv began flowing ,nt the mouth we had felt, Alex and I, as if we'd never smile again. Half a minute after he had begun his recitative chant we were smiling like a certain breed of cat from Alg^^'s own coun- try. Everybody within two blocks could hearken to Algy, and the depot telegraph operatress had to close her win- dow so she could hear her instruments click. The quiet little man who sat listening to him arose after a few bars of Algy's solo, told the Englisher to wait there a minute, and went out. We feared something was about to happen to Algy. Suddenly I heard a grunt from Alex. He had pulled that bunch of papers from his pocket and was looking at them with eyes that stuck out so the dust from the jani- tor's broom was settling on nearly an inch of them. If he had started to cry the biggest tear in the bunch couldn't have splashed within a foot of his boots. Without a word he turned and showed the documentaries to me. They were a deed and abstract of title to the best piece of land in the Floyd river bottoms up above Sioux City — land good in the open market for a century an acre. The deeds were signed, and the only blanks not filled out were those for the name of the party of the second part and for the amount of the selling price. I was so stumped that I w^as totally unprepared for what Alex did next, and for the suddenness with which he seemed to perfect the whole scheme. Seemed that the total rest, his brains had had for two hours had done him heaps of good. Same here, for the way I fell in and un- derstudied showed mighty nigh human reasoning power. But hunger is hunger, walking was bad, and Chicago was many thousands of railroad ties beyond the horizon. " I never expected to be druv to the wall like this," said Alex in one of those confidential tones a farmer em- ploys when he is talking to a man while a thrashing-machine is running. " To think of th' years I've slaved and saved on this place to put it into shape, and to be caught now in a pinch where I'll have t" sell it at any old price at all ! It s awful. But sell I must " "Don't do it, Bronson," says I, coaxing-like, having caught the name of the party of the first part along with his wife's at the bottom of one of the sheets. " Don't do it. We may be able to raise a breeze some other way without " "No use, no use," growled Alex; "I've reached th' end o' my string. Th' poor man's extremity is God's opportunity to give all he's saved to some feller that's in better luck. An' th' sooner I sell th' better." The fish was rising. The Englisher turned and swal- lowed the hook, line, sinkers, bob, pole, and didn't even gag on the fisherman himself. " Aw, Bronson, bless me sowl," he beamed through his one window ; " this is an unexpected pleasuah — this tone so different from the one in youh lettaw in answer to my attempt to buy youh fawm at a deucedly good price. Now I fawncy we can come to something nearaw my terms, .•' know-." Alex jumped to his feet. " What !" he yelled with fine tragedy ; " you're not th' Englisher I'd been bluffing with. I'm caught fairly. I ■did leel, m ;• lord, that I had earned a fair price for my property. Gawd knows " — and here Alex squeezed out a really wet tear — "I'd worked hard enough and long enough, and hoped enough, to get it paid for, and now " he ended with the finest gesticulation of despair you ever saw. My, w-hat a loss the stage distained when Ale.x Gregg took to tin-horning ! Well, it took. The Englisher offered a thousand pounds for those two hundred improved acres — a fourth their value, as he well knew. Bronson himself couldn't have afforded the sacrifice, but Alex could, and as I was expecting to go snucks on the deal, I was willing to let him do it. "f he papers were soon in Algy's big pink mitts and half the purchase-money in ours. We were to be paid the rest as soon as we met Algy and his quiet friend (that we were mighty afraid would bob in any time) in an attorney's office at half-past eight. We went out to get our breakfasts. Well, Alex and I caught a Milwaukee train east, changed cars at Manilla and doubled back on the North- western to Missouri valley, and for the next few days we changed cars and appearances and clothes so often that a bloodhound would have got a severe headache trying to find us. Both of us often wondered what happened when the Englisher failed to meet us in that law-office, and also when Algy and the real Mr. Bronson came together. The other day I was sitting in the La Salle-street sta- tion, Chicago, when I saw a face and shape I would know anywhere. It was a bulky shape and a turkey-red face. The former was drooped down on a bench and the latter was open in a goodly snooze. I had money on me. Slip- .ping up quietly to the pudgy figure I dropped into the open side-pocket of his plaid coat five hundred dollars, on account. A Ballade of Spring Poets. THEV sing of the opalescent moon. Of course, of the flowers that too soon fade (Oh, my ! how the busy bardlings croon !) ; They murmur of hill and glen and glade, By brooklet and river they are swayed ; They tie the language into a noose. And freely open their stock in trade — Ho, poets of spring will soon run loose ! The azure sky is a precious boon. The stars e'er come to the singer's aid ; And what would he do. the maundering loon (I'm sure there are man}' poets made), Without the bee and the grassy blade ? For matters like these his soul seduce ; Yes, trifles like these his feelings raid — Ho, poets of spring will soon run loose ! The poets of spring will gurgle soon, Soul-burdened poets of every shade ; They'll deal out things with a liberal spoon, New aspirations will be displayed. New flights of fancy will be essayed. Though Pegasus meet with rank abuse. The galling and spur he can't evade — Ho. poets of spring will soon run loose ! ENVOY. There's no way out of it. I'm afraid ; Vou cannot down them by any ruse. Prince, welcome the coming serenade — Ho. poets of spring will soon run loose : NATHAM M. U!v t. ^"^, DISQUALIFIED. " Yes ; we had to drop Mrs. Tones from our ' mothers' society.' " "Why?" " She insisted on bringing her baby with her." In the Language of the Circus Man. <