K
OiD RAPING CLASS
tn Harper's Magazine ]
■¿¿¡j you, Genevieve, how oft it comes
■»JTyoung <>M readiug class in Dis-
Mrrv..niler Three,
■*7 of
elcx-utioinste
who stood so
»t'staiuliird literature with am-
the energy in which our
ff^.Z^aniug of the text by all the
KfV
onm who wrote tile lines
■^^¿^Imvi^recogiiiz.od their work iu
Ritrict Number Three.
I. the snow
was smooth anti clean—the
thick-laid dust;
■Xi it made the windows speak at
sudden gust;
,
.
,
l/Sth-bells thii'W us pleasant words
r«hen traveler would pass;
Je trees along the road stood shiver
loin their class;
the white-browed cottages were
ratling cold and numb,
[(¿away the mighty world seemed beck-
■ Mtinff us to come—
»«Imus world, of which we conned
.tat had been and might be,
Vj 0iJ.fashioiied reading class of District
“umber Three.
I
Li
I
I
a hand at history—its altars, spires
. ¿iru.'l'v mispronounced the most im
portant names;
¿¡dered through biography, and gave
our fancy play,
,-,th some subject« fell in love—“good
only for one day;”
¡umoe and philosophy we settled many
ualle wiiat poems we assailed to creak
st every joint;
nuuiv authors that we love, you with me
will agree,
f first time introduced to us in District
Number Three.
recollect Susannah Smith, the teacher’s
sore distress.
never stopped at any pause—a sort of
day express!
timid young Sylvester Jones, of lucon-
sisteiit sight,
stumbled on the easy words and read
the hard ones right?
Jennie Green, who.-» doleful voice was
always clothed in black!
Samuel Hicks, whose tones induced the
plastering all to crack!
Andrew Tubbs, whoso various mouths
were quite a show to seel
■! we cannot Hud them now in District
Number Three.
Jasper Jenckes, whose tears would flow
at each pathetic word
les in the prize-fight business now, and hits
them hard, I’ve heard);
id Benny Bayne, whose every tone he mur
mured as in fear—
s tongue is not so till) id now; he is an auc
tioneer) ;
id Lantv Wood, whose voice was just en
deavoring hard to change,
d leaped from hoarse to fiercely shrill with
most surprising range;
» his sister Mary Jane, so full of prudish
glee.
is! they’re both in higher schools tbau Dis
trict Number Three.
back these various voices come, though
long the years have grown,
sound uncommonly distinct through
memory’s telephone;
some are full of melody, and bring a
sense of cheer,
Ind some can smite the rock of time, and
nimniou forth a tear;
kt one sweet voice comes back to me, when
ever sad I grieve,
Ind sings a song, and that is yours, O peer
less Genevieve!
brightens up the olden times, and throws a
smile at me—
silver star amid the clouds of District
Number Three.
MADAME MOJESKA'S POEM.
icago Inter Ocean.
“The niadame is a poetess as well as
■in actress, is she not, count?” asked the
■reporter.
JI “If you mean, l>y that, the verses
■credited to her in The Denver Tribune
■some time ago, no. She never wrote
■ them, ami lias never written any poetry
■ in English. She wrote a number of
■ poems in her native language once,
■ which were collected into a volume and
■ were several years ago translated into
I English — very badly translated — I
■ ought to say murdered in English by
■ Oscar Wilde. She has written some
■ magazine articles in English, but no
I porir.' - The poem credited to her in
I The Denver Tribune was without her
I knowledge.
I “Gene Field put it in, and I think it
I is not original, but has been published
I before. I have on idea that it was the
I work of some of the older English
I poets, and Field published it with her
I name to try his brother editors. A
I great many copied it and gave the mad-
I »me credit for being a poetess. We
I never knew of the publication until we
I were in Manitou, and there she wrote
to Mr. Field asking him to deny it, but
he did not, and we had no other oppor-
I tunitv to make a denial until we reached
Chicago.”
LOST Ills WAGER.
New York Sun.
A railroad conductor bet Gorman, of
Quincy, Ill., that he could not pick np
100 eggs laid on the ground a yard
»part inside of tliirty-five minutes.
The eggs were to be picked up and de
posited in a basket, one at a time, and
the basket was to remain stationary at
the spot where the first egg was placed.
Gorman thought he had an easy walk
over; but the railroad man placed the
e8gs in a straight line along side ot the
depot and the basket at one end, so that
Gorman had to run up and down the
line with each egg separately. At the
end of twenty minutes he had picked
op only twenty-five of the eggs, and
had to give up the contest. A local
Mathematician figured up that it would
l*ke about six miles of travel to pick up
the 100 eggs.
T
DEACON’S VISIT.
IWpsey Fotta in Arthur’s Magazine ]
Suddenly we heard the gate-latch
click a bustling step along the walk
and then“ ’' ,a 8ttt,uP*ni? OU the porch,’
and then a long, pecking sort of ran-
^¿¡Jkn°“e Uke 0U Tabltha laPPi“S
opened the door and in bobtied
Deacon Skiles We had not seen him
since the day his wife was buried. He
looked no older than in the times when
he did a-wooing go. There was no out
ward sign of his bereavement, only the
wide band of crape on his Leghorn hat
it came within an inch of the top.
We all shook hands and laid aside our
papers respectfully. He turned to father
»nd said, “Well, deacon, how’s your
soul?
Father told him how it
was, and then they began to talk, but
about every three minutes the deacon
would have to open the door and speak
to Jack, his old horse, that was hitched
in the street. He would yell out, “You
Jack! stiddy there, you old sarpent!”
Jack! mind me, you pizen critter!”
^e girls would nudge each other
under the table, while we kept our
facuB clear aud smiling. Father wanted
him
__ in the stable
—a to put .
Jack
and stay all night, but __
he ___
said
he’d “ not missed a night from
home since Roady’s decease,” and, as
he’d got the hang o’ things at home, he
didn’t know as he could steep away from
there. “1 am a little peculioor, Brother
Potts,” he said. “I have wore the same
nightcap for twenty-two veaiB an’ have
reposed on the same, identical piller—
a softly one, made of chicken feathers—
goin’ on thirty year. Habit is a great
thing with me, urn, ”
Then father asked him about his dear
wife—how long she was sick, how she
bore her illness, and if she was resigned
in the hour of death.
Poor man! he tipped his hat back off
his shelving forehead, fixed his milk
blue eyes on father, and said, with em
phasis :
“No, Brother Potts, she wa’n’t overly
resigned, only partially, you may say;
but you see she couldn’t help herself—
go she must. She tried to eat all sho
could so as to give strenth to her
frame, hoping to get well again. She’d
make me go to the butcher’s for liver
every few days—Mike alius gives tho
liver without pay—an’ we'd fry it an’
roast it an’ grill it an’ steam it an' par
boil it with roached egg dropped on it,
an’ it never seemed to give her no sort
o’strenth or viggor at all, at all! No;
Ready wa’n’t extraornarlv reconciled,
but
she
was a good woman,
an’ the Profit says, ‘Her husband
is known in the gates an’ he sets among
the elders o’ the land,’ an’ you know
that’s so, Brother Potts; I alters set
with the elders, um. My consort was
sick off an’ on, for nearly a year. She
bated powerfully to give up. At the
time she was taken bad, she milked
four cows an’ sold over ’leven pounds o’
butter ever week. Butter was butter;
it brought a good price; but as soon
as we had to keep a hired girl the
cows began to dry up and slack off
»-giving milk, and twa’n’t long till we
only had enough to do ourselves. That
grteved Ready—she took on about it
powerfully, an’ «ays I, Ready,’ says I, I
•’tisn'tno use of frettin’; ’twoni mend
matters; things alters go so when the
woman’s sick. If the Good Man sees
proper to afflict you, all we can do is
to—,’” here he ran to the door and
hailed out, “Jack! you old renny-
get!
I come there, sir!”
“I told Roady, says I, ‘Dear com
panion,’ says I ‘we're in the hands of a
jest an’ wise One, the head supervisor
of all things, an’ we must keep cool
an’ be patient, um.’
“Well, well; it’s a lonely old stub
that I am now, Brother Potts. I’ve
neither kith nor kin, chick nor child;
nobuddy to wash, patch, darn, cook,
comfort, or build fires, how. Nobuddy
says, in the airly mornin’s, ‘Come, my
love!’ nobuddy says, ‘How’s your
corns?’or‘How’s your coffee?’none to
comb my hair an’ braid my cue an’
brush off the dander of a Sabber
day mornin’!
It’s lonely, um.
Goodness knows ’taint nice now:
I am an orphan—” here Jack piped
out a whinny, and the deacon hailed,
“Jack! you oneasv cuss, yon! if I come
out. I’ll—I’ll— I am an orphan -no
father, no mother, no wife, no brother,
no sister—a lonely pine! a chestnut
tree smeared with lightnings of the
fervent elements, um!
He leaned down and looked at the
floor. Father didn’t know what to do.
Presently the deacon said:
“Could a creetur git boardin with
you, Brother Potts?”
And the answer was, that the girls
were going to be absent for awhile i.nd
likelv the house would be shut up; ai d
and then the old deacon smiled in a
dreamy way, and, looking at our pa- ,
“What hev you writ lately, Miss
pjnsev9 Your assay at the institute
wm proper good.
I think you teched
’em up 'bout right. They was my sen
timents ; I oilers said that.
Taking off
his hat, he looked at it and sighed.
“Roady told me to wear a scarf on my
hat one year. She asked it as a favor,
Lily remarked that the crape was
very becoming.
.
(
,
Turning to father, lie said:
e ve
alters been friends, Brother Potts, we
’ficiated together, me an yon many a
time
I’ve »Hers calculated on your
THE QUEEN'S'STOCKINGS.
sympathy and brotherly good.w.ll an
Chicagr, Times.
Son e months ago Queen Margherita you’ve never gone back on me. How
«ked a little girl to knit her a pair of does the sow and pigs prosper that I
•ilk stockings as a birthday gift, and “Father said he’d raised every one of
gave 20 lire to buy the material. The
Queen forgot the circumstance, till her the pigs and none of them were given
birthday came, when she was reminded to r< oting or jumping fences or lifting
°f it by the arrival of a pair of well- rails with their snouts.
“Just so " said the delighted deacon;
knit stockings and the maker s best
wishes. Not to be outoone, Queen “that sow was a little mite of a pig
Margherita sent a pair to her young when I gave it to my sainted Roady.
friend as a return gift, one stocking It wa’n’t wuth one dime-it s cnanees
being full of lire pieces and the other , for life was very slim; but that noble
of bon bons. Thev were accompanied bv woman fed it with a teaspoon, day after
a little denim bib round its
» little note: “ T^ll me, my dear, which dav, with
It growed temblv. There was
Jon liked best?” A reply reached the I ' ’
Palace next day: “Dear queen : Both | a real human love lie tween them, an it
the stockings have made me she<l many would toddle ’round after my woman,
*ears. Papa took the one with the sque-a-l-i-n-g, it would.”
Here Jack, hearing the voice of his
Money and n;y brother tho other.
master, whinnied again. The deacon
The Continent: A coquette is • roae. He put on his hat and tud it
woman'thout any heart, that makes a down with a silk kerchief and drew his
fool o’ a man that ain’t got *ny head.
C0-\v°nanU1i about W’neck, saying:
ell, the beet of friends must part,
TRUTH AND TRADE
•o good night, folks. I ean’t ask vou to
come an see me, now; but I’ll d’rap in
once in a while. I want to see that sow A Worldly-Wise View of Every-Day
an PJK8; »“ 1 want to look at your cow
Business Methods,
an the barn, an’ I want to ‘ask after
your religion an’ have a real spiritool
talk and conversation. It will strentheu *n Which It 1« Made to Appear that
me. Let me see; three o’ the pigs
Trnthfalnese Lacks Mousething
w ? r ®. l
on*-’ »andv, an' four o’ ’em
of Being the Beat
whitish. I remember them. Yes • I’ll
call again, I allers did love that sow ’an
Polley,
1 want to see her.”
Weorge Peck WiuH«~£ Dox.
FASCINATED BY FUNERALS.
PEOPLE WHO
ARE MOUKNKRS
LARLY, AND FIND COMFORT
BEING.
New York Sun.
REOÜ-
IN SO
AFTER THAT THE GLORY.
I saw a shadow fading out
Where light sought light in greeting;
A veil consumed between two woe ids
Where this and that were meeting.
“Do you see that_________
„____
nice looking
little My care touched silence where the song
old lady over by the stained window ?”
Of ocean <-eased its moaning;
Twas only where the sea beyond
asked a fashionable undertaker of the
Began its dee| intoning
reporter. “I mean the quaint respect
able looking little personage, with the Thus sings and painta for thee, O soul,
Life's sad, exultant. story;
black satin dress and black crape
The veil dissolves, the music dies,
shawl.”
But after that the glory.
The reporter saw her.
‘‘Well, continued the undertaker, with A GREAT FEAT IN SHORTHAND.
an appreciative smile, “she's as fine a
regular attendant as any establishment How McElhone Reported the Can.
greaalonal Bedlam of “1'onatlng.In"
i in this citv can produce. I send her mi
Days.
1 invitation to all my nice funerals, and I
have sometimes sent a carriage for her
[Now York World.]
when I knew mourners would be scarce.
John J. McElhone, the chief of the
| She is never really happy unless she is
official stenographers of the house, has
, at a funeral. She won't touch weddings,
been in the service of that body as an
(
as most women will; her sole amuse official reporter since 1849. He" was an
ment, so to speak, is a first-class fun expert stenographer when a mere boy.
eral
;” and the undertaker looked over When he was 18 years old he was re
,
to the old lady with a tender profes porting the official debates.
sional interest.
Mr. McElhone explained the other
"I have some other nice people on dav his way of working. It will prob
1 my list,” he went on. “Gue of my ably be a revelation to the average re
1 most graceful mournerH lives in Forty porter. He pays no attention to the me
' eighth street, and seldom gets down chanical part of his work. He writes
I this way. but she hardly ever passes the Pitman system in its simplest forms.
a i day without a funeral, and I never When he is reporting a speaker he fol
i
saw
her at one she couldn’t shed tears lows his every sentence, criticising it
with the beat of them. She's one of aud taking in fully its sense, while his
| the heart-brokenest ladies I ever had hand follows his thought like a bit of
|
for
a ‘regular.’ Does she really feel exquisitely trained mechanism. The
j
badly?
Well, I should sav she did, result is that he has never yet met a
most decidedly. She always has a speaker who can talk too fast for him.
word to say to the family, if she thinks When he meets a man who can think
than he can, then only
they
need comforting, and is very care faster
1
He
ful
to learn all the particulars. Why, will McElhone be at a loss.
1
that
in the
last
house
1 she can tell mo all the details about says
1 some of my own funerals that I had for the three hardest men to report were
1 gotten years ago. She's as good os a Thompson, of Iowa; Blackburn, of
i Bet of books.
Kentucky, and Banner, of Massachu
“Oh, no, there’s nothing hysterical setts.
,
Tho hardest piece of reporting ever
about
these eases at all. I’ve got some
j men that do just the same thing. done by McElhone was during the ex
' There is one now. He’s a curious cus citing incidents of the counting in of
(
tomer.
I sometimes lose sight of him Hayes by the house of representatives.
for six months, aud then all of a sud When Beetle, of New York, immortal
den
he'll turn up and not miss a funeral. ized himself by jumping upon his desk,
'
1 Of course, I couldn’t ask the women perfect liedlam appeared to have been
folks why they came, but I asked him let loose. To report what was said,
with twenty or thirty members appar
' one day. He said he couldn’t describe
1 exactly the kind of feeling it gave him, ently talking at once, must have
but
lie thought it sort of quieted his seemed utmost an impossibility. In less
1
1 mind and soothed his feelings like. He than a second McElhone saw that his
i made one remark about it that I could reputation as one of the greatest of liv
i not quite get the hang of, though I ing reporters was at stake. Ho seined
, dare say it had a certain sort of mean his note-liook mid dashed right into the
j ing for him. He said, ‘I haven’t got centre of the excitement. The voice of
, any friends at all myself, and so I like every mendier was familiar to him.
| go to funerals.’ A lady volunteered Without turning his head he stood
to
.
almost
the same kind of remark to me erect amid the wildest confusion and
once
after
she had been to four or five caught with rigid accuracy the words
'
of
my
best
funerals.
Sho said, ‘It of the most distant speaker. He was
1
makes
me
feel
kind
of
friendly, you very nervous over the result, liecmise if
1
know,
and then they are so kind to me; any member at that Sime had by ohance
1
I and, besides, I feel afraid and solemu, been omitted from the page of history
of that day McElhone would have been
I aud it always does me good.' ”
the subject of many a row. None of
A NEW FUEL IN MEXICO.
the members believed that lie had been
The Mexican Financier gives an ai> able to get them all, yet wlien this re
count
of a new fuel invented by a port came out in Tho Record the next
1
member
of n commercial house in the day not one hud a single word of fault
I
i city of Mexico, and for which a patent to find. In fact, it is the only perfect
was obtained from the Mexican con picture of that exciting period. It was
| gress in May last. The article is called one of the greatest feats of stenographic
"turbato,” and consists principally of reporting ever done in congress. When
bog peat, of which there aro immense McElhone had finished ho was bathed
, quantities in Mexico, mixed with a in perspiration from head to foot and
proper proportion of bitumen or chapo- was as weak as if he had beon running
pote. The fuel is made in five differ iu a ten-niile match.
ent classes: For locomotives, station
A New View or It.
ary engines, smelting purposes, smiths’
[Youth’« Companion.]
fires and household purposes. It burns
Two gentlemen met in Washington
freely and without much smoke, giving | last winter and passed a week together.
a higher dynamic equivalent of heat They had been classmates in college;
than the same amount of woods, anil one was now an obscure farmer, the
very nearly as great as the best Eng other is a well known leader in national
lish coal. It can bo manufactured and affairs, and has been a candidate for the
sold in Mexico at a price considerably presidency.
lielow coal or wood, and, looking at the
After observing bis friend carefully
daily increasing demand for fuel, the for some days, the farmer said, “I
augmentation in the price of wood and honestly believe that your famo is only
its growing scarcity, it is safe to pre an annoyance to you.
dict, says The Financier, a large and
“Suppose, G —,’’ was the roply, “you
successful market for “turbato.” As all were to enter a street-car fnll of
the ingredients necessary for its mnnil strangers, vulgar, gossiping folk, and
facturc are found in inexhaustible tliut they should call out your name
quantities in Mexico, it will create a loudly, and state that yon had an idiot
new and important industry in the re brother, and that yon had been sus
public. With a good and cheap fuel, pected of stealing in your youth, and
it does not need a wizard to foresee the that yonr son woe going to the dogu.
immenss impetus that will be given to Should you like it? Well, tho country
Mexican manufactures of every de is only a big street-car, mid fame tn it
scription. Arrangements nre said to is just such personal gossip from vulgar
lie making for the manufacture of “tur months.”
bato” on a large scale, so that it will
This was a now and startling view of
lie shortly brought before the public. the subject to tho farmer that he took
home to think over.
DOMES TIC INI ELK TTY.
[New York Times.]
“If a storekeeper wants to starve in busi
ness. let him tell the truth.” This sentence,
overheard as it dropped from the lips of a
mau apjiarently well versed iu business meth-
ods, led to an attempt to discover to wbat
extent the busiuees code of honesty has lieen
deliberately adopted among shop-keepers.
The inquirer met at leugth, however, a phi-
losopher with whom he had previously had a
slight acquaintance. The question being put,
the reply was a lecture.
“I believe,” said the philosopher, who was
rather a handsome mau, about 30 years
of age, well-dressed and wholesome looking,
“that you have asked the right question of
the fatal man. I had occasion a few years
ago to look up the practical ethics of various
branches of business. I believe that business
men are, at heart and in intention, honest.
The customer, however, frequently drives him
to practices iu which the suppression of mi-
pleasant and unprofitable fact figures to some
extent In following these practices the
shopkeeper does not lie outright He could
make affidavit to that But his experience is
like that of a man who has been often on tho
witnes® stand, and knows that if he attempts
to tell the whole truth both sides may be
damaged. The customer is nearly always a
man uninformi .1 and prejudiced. He is un-
prepared to form a correct judgment of what
he is purchasing. He may believe that in
buying he has only to see for liiniBelf, ordor,
pay and receive. Or he may deem it beet to
leave his order with the shopkeeper and
trust to the letter's honesty to give him a
fair article at a fair price. If, with the first
described customer, the shopkeeper let drop
some unfortunate word in describing the
goods, exciting the customer's prejudices, he
might lose the opportunity of making a sale.
He therefore adopts a Fabian policy iu deal-
ing with him, and withholds all information.
“With the second his policy is to deliver an
article sufficiently good to secure his trade in
future. In either case the shopkeeper's brain
is busy calculating the profits, which has a
tendency to make him put the highest figure
possible on his goods. You know, of course,
that in almost any store you enter you buy a
piece of goods at a certain price, while beside
it lies another equally good, but not quite so
fashionable, marked at a price perhai>s only
half or three-quarters as much as the first
piece. Fashion, the shopkeeper will tell you
took a fancy to the design of the first piece;
Diphtheritic Poultry.
it has become scarce, and consequently, dear,
[Chicago Nows.]
seller chargiug for it all he can get. Now,
What has got into the animal king the
with human fallibility, the shopkeeper may
dom ? The Texas steer is prepared to fall into the belief that pretty much all his
supply pneumonia and consumption goods are fashionable and scarce when a cue-
at short notice. The frisky pig is tomer appears who is able and willing to pay
ready to help us out with an early a good price for what he orders,¡but when a
worm. Milk is liable to bring us scar bargain-driver is facing the shopkeeper he
let fever. So the scientists say. And may have his doubts as to the scarcity and
now here comes the innocent chicken dearness of goods el ewhere, ami let them go
with a whole eoopful of diphtheria. at a price less than he charged the other cui-
Surely this is our coup de grace. The tomer. You see, he thus transfers to his shop
London Times is responsible for this the methods of a board of trade, apparent
new scare, but it charges it back to supply and demand governing transactions.
“The tailor who measures you for a suit of
Germany, where the scientific imagina
tion runs free course and is glorified clothes may tell you he is too busy, that you
Behold the record of fate! In 1881 must wait a week or two before it can be
2,000 fowls were sent from the neigh made. At the end of the time agreed upon
you call upon him and he brings out from a
borhood of Verona to Nesselhausen, drawer
a suit made from the cloth you
and in 11 end 1,400 of them died of ordered. You think it a handsome, well-
diphtherias. Last year 1,000 chickens made suit; you try it on and it is a perfect fit;
were hatched from eggs collected from you ;>ay your cash and go away satisfied.
manj' different places, and in a short Yocr folks at home congratulate you on
time they all died of diphtheria. Five your nice clothes, you admire them and your
cats took it and died, as also did a par- figure in them in the glass, and then you go
rot which hung in a cage in the house. on wearing them for whatever time you
Last November an Italian hen bit a usually wear a suit, wlien you [sit them off
man’s wrist, and he also died of diph for good, knowing that you got your money’s
theria. The hen died an accidental worth from that tailor. But what would be
death just after inflicting the bite. In your feelings toward that tailor if you were
aware of some little fa^'ts that he with
short, all Nesselhausen, where these made
held from you? The suit of clothes was an
things happened, believes that chickens other man’s misfit, it was made a month tie
are the original owners of the diphtheria fore your measure was taken, and it was
patents. Thus science is winding up lying in a drawer in the shop when you were
all animated nature in her evolutionary waiting for it to be made. Moreover, when
embrace. Either there’s a deal of hu you expressed to him your pleasure with his
man nature in almost any kind of lieast promptness in delivering them, and with his
or bird, or else there's a deal of hum artistic skill in making them, his modest atti
tude and his professions of honest work were
bug in modern science.
a part of the sham of his business.
Mojourner Truth.
"You perceive how far reaching Is honesty,
Wendell Phillips, speaking tho other do you not? Well, if you attempt to handle
day of Sojourner Truth, said : “Her Meg any one of tho various classes of goods which
Merrilies figure added much to tho ef are sold in our city shops you will find that
fect of her speech. Her natural wit the public is not educated up to a point which
and happiness in refort I have hardly will permit the shopkeeper to tell all he
ever seen equaled. Her eloquence was knows al tout bis stock. If a shopkeeper told
at times marvelous. I once heard her damaging facts about his own goods, and yet Texan Hiftiiigs.
Memethlac New In Leather.
describe the captain of a slave ship could assert with truth that they wen- as good
Two negro women met on Austin
ICroffut’s New York letter, j
going up to judgment followed by his as his neighbors’, his customers would want avenue.
I wonder if our fashionable “wall
victims as they gathered from the depth him to take something off his prices. Igno
“Has yer heard from liusbaud Gabe paper" is hereafter to lie of leather?
is bliss with tho average customer.
of the sea in a strain that reminded me of rance
Take coffee. You buy it ready ground. You since he done luff yer i”
A part of William K. Vanderbilt’s walls
Clarence's dream in Shakespeare and don
“I got one letter from him outer de are hung with leather, as is one room
’t know whether it is half coffeo or three-
equaled it. T he anecdotes of her ready quarters something else. You don’t know postoffice.”
in Henry Villard's new mansion. The
wit and quick, striking replies are num whether the green coffee-lieans were not
“I s’pose, after the wny be’bused and
berless She used to say to us: ‘You somewhat damaged by sea-water. If you boat yer, dat yer sent it back to him walls of Victor Hugo's drawing-room,
where I attended a reoeption in June,
read books; God Himself talks to me.’” like the taste of it, you buy it and think it widout openin’ it?"
aro hung with leather, heavier than
Her home in late years has been in a good coffee. But if told by your grocer that
“Yon jes bet I didn't open de letter
plain story-and-a-half house, in the out it was ilamaged or adulterated, you might be after de way he treated me. No, in sole-leather. It may have lieen tanned
tiger skins, or tho bark of a drove of
skirts of Battle Creek, Mich. Two uneasy.
deed, I didn’t. I’d see him in liis cof young elephants. It wa« not arranged
well-worn hitching posts and numerous
“Take
cigars.
What smoker
can fin fust.”
smoothly on tho wall, but hung at will,
wheel tracks at the side of the unpaved gauge the value of each of half a dozen
“But dar mout hab lieen a >5 bill in in loose folds ami heavy corrugations,
street showed that she had many visi cigars of different prices, ranging, say, from de letter.”
as if it grew there, and bad just peeled
tors. She was cared for in her helpless 15 to 30 cents? Yet the man who always
“No, dar warn’t no ♦ bill in <le let
age by her two daughters, Elizabeth smokes a ii cent cigar would be made un ter de low, mean, wufless, yaller off I did not inquire, but very likely
it represented the tanned trophies «ent
and Diana. The house was Sojourner’s happy if told that a bunch of 20-cent cigar», moke.”
been worked off on him. Take shoe«.
to the venerable poet by his admirers
own property, and her income was de hail
“How does yer know dat. ef yer didn't hunting in India ami Africa.
are certain seams in shoes which to the
rived from "the sale of her books and There
knowing bring down their value, as they are open de letter ?"
Haw Wilkin 1'aHtaa Work».
pictures.
“I got my sister to open de letter. He
not regular made. Yet
they will
(Chicago Tribune.]
wear well enough, and if you don’t wanted me to send him his razor and
The Barbarians' Milkman.
Wilkie Collins, when working regu
A Chinese paper contains the follow know where to look for these warns his stovepipe bat—de low, mean, wuf-
larly, writes about 1,200 words a day,
will rest contentedly in the lielief that less nigger.”
ing : “In the barbarian cities of Amer you
you wear tlrsVclass shoei Then there is the
covering with them throe large pages
ica, where everything is the reverse of special last idea. Many a shoemaker is en
TRUCKLING TO BOUTON.
of letter paper. He writes slowly, and
what it is in our cities, there is a man abled by a customer’s belief that his feet are
cut and scratches, and rewrites and in
Mr.
Joaquin
Miller
says
that
he
sighs
who goes about in a covered wagon, of a shape entirely different from the com
and adds sentences in the mar
with large tin cans filled with water. mon run to charge a high price for shoes for a city where “the cruel civilization terlines,
ami sprinkles blots everywhere,
He carries a hideous bell, which he marie for him on his own lasts, whereas the i of modern empires is unknown, and gin,
until the manuscript looka like a Chin
clangs at every house until a girl with «hoeniaker knows that very probably his cus where there is “r.st and quiet and ese jmzzle in a nightmare.
Nearing
large feet comes out with a pitcher, tomer would find as good a fit awl as strong : peace to suit the hour of dreams;” a the end of tho book he gets excited and
and then he fills it with the water. He a shoe nJ a ready made shoe «tor. without 1 city “hedged in from bustle and fever scribbles away liko a mailman, writing
is allowed to talk to the girl. When difficulty. But no end nt people, my friend, ish rush for gain;” a c.iy “placid as a for twelve or fourteen hours at a stretch
there is a sick person on the square, love to be humbugged in the direction of moonlit lake and natural as a maiden's without stopping save now and then to
this water-man rings his beil very their vanities. Take drug stores—to say blush;” a city where “a port may seek jump around on tho floor and act out
loudly. Strange to say, the barbarians nothing of the veil which druggists draw and find congenial ear* ami healthful
the situations.
city
do not call him a water-man. They over tbeir dealings by the use of Latin laliels, hearts;” i a ___
, where “ambition slum-
or of the price« they charge for water and
' * * the
" e Hoentrc
call him the milkman.”
Near Kaaa<h.
tiers
and
nature
wields
sugar when put up in a nice little bottle;
Mr. Miller 1« evidently
[New York Hun ]
think of the drug stores which are now over all.”
Dying to Mee MlekjTotty.
A Michigan girl told her y mug tn an
[>alace« of beauty, but which woul 1 be almost truckling for apass to Boston.
[Life.]
Boston Commercial Bulletin : A vig that she would never marry 11 im iinitt'
Old lady (indignantly?: “Just to , as naked as aborted lot« of Venuses if
think of that horrid man daring to , stripped of their dummy jars and bottle«. orous old fellow in Maine who had be was » ’rth >100,000. b«> 1 -Started]
public is to blame for the encourage- lately buried his fourth wife, was ac-I cut with a bsave heart to make it.
preach «uch a long sermon when I was I Yet the
of such shams. The public, I say, can costed by an acquaintance who, unaware 1
” How ere you getting on.Gwc ge?"ah«
dvingto get home to poor sick Totty.” • Bient
not in its present stage of development with of his bereavement, asked.
asked
at lire expiration of a < tuple of
(M. B. — Totty is a poodle. I
stand such a shock as honesty in laisine««
“How is your wife, Cap'n Plow jog-1 mouth*.
would give it The individual in buaineas
“ Wall,” G««rge said hopefully, "I bars
“Two cup* of tea,” «»id a gentleman who intend« to tell the whole truth always, ger ?”
to a waiter as he seated himself with a plain and unvarniihed. and who intends tn
To which the captain replied, with a saved up F23.”
The girl dropped her eyelaahaa and
friend at the table—"young Hyson.” purine a coarse of the stnctnrt homely. «eta perfectl, grave face:
"Two teas for Gen. Harrison,” yelled himself down in a maze which the brevity of
“Waal, to tell yon the trewth, I am lluahin^y remarked: **I reckon that**
near enough, George."
the waiter.
kinder out of wives just now."
life forbids his following to the exit."
George W. Peck, The Suu man, ad
vertises in The Turf, Field and Fann
for a dog. The following tetter accom-
panics the advertisement:
“M ilwaukee , Nov. 17.-My Dear
r rank: I know you to be a wall posted
sportsman (I do not use the word in
any John L. Sullivan or faro cLip man
ner). I know that you like to shoot,
and are well posted on all that belongs
to shooting. I am also a ‘ ‘shooter”—
spare my blushes 1 I am a chap who
had rather stand up to my arm-pits in
mud aud shoot ducks than "to get drunk
on champagne cider, and I had rather
eat fried pork and eggs, after a hard
day s work duck-shooting, than to dine
with Oscar Wilde at Delmonico’s. Well.
I have got everything except a dog. I
want to get a setter that is broke; a I
ready-made, lock-stitch, stem-winding
dog that has a nose that under
stands all about quail, chickens, wood
cock, and snipe, aud is perfect at re
trieving ducks. I dpn’t want such a
dog to freeze to death on late ducks,
but one I can treat like a human be
ing, and use when the water is warm.
I do not care particularly for a long
pedigree on a dog that isn’t worth a
continental darn except to look at. I
don't want a dog broke by a dude that
don’t know anything but to “To-ho!” I
want a dog that has been brought up
by one of our kind of fellows, that is
as good as they make, young enough to
have several years of service in him.
You know what I want, and you may
know where he can be found. Think
it over at your leisure and let me know.
I am going to put a steam yacht, fitted
up with berths, kitchen, etc., on the
waters of the Wolf and Fox rivers,
and lakes Winnebago and Povyan,
about sixty miles north of here, next
season, for myself and friends, of whom
I want you to consider yourself which.
I had rather take a few fellow’s out and
make them have a good time hunting
than to go to congress. Yours,
“G eo . W. P eck .”
V