Ligonier Banner., Volume 23, Number 46, Ligonier, Noble County, 28 February 1889 — Page 3

L ° ° . f - e Figonier Banuer, LIGONIER, : : INDIANA e e e ettt et . THE TELEGRAM, '~ ‘ls this-the tel'graph office?"’ . Asked a childish voice one day, Asl noted the click of my instrument ‘With its message from far away. As it ceased, I turned: at my elbow, ' Stood the merest scrap of a boy, 7 - Whose childish face was all aglow . ‘With the light of a hidden joy. ; The golden curls on his forehead, ‘Shaded eyes of the deepest blue, As if a bit of the summer sky : Had lost in them its hue. . - - They scanned my office rapidly, ‘ From ceil' ng down to floor, i ‘Then turned on mine their eager gaze, ~ As he asked the questiono’er: . - - “Is this the tel'graph office?”’ | | ‘Tt is, my little man.” | : . | - Isaid, “pray tell ma what you want ‘ And I'll help you if I can.” ‘Then the Flue eyes grew more eager, . And the breath came thick and fast; -And I saw within the chubby hands, A folded paper grasped. | . “Nurse told me,” he said, ‘‘that the lightnlng ' Came down on the wires, some day; . And my mamma has gone to Heaven, " And I'm lgnely since she is away, For my papa is very busy, And hasn't much time for me, ° ; 80 I thought I'd write her a letter, . And I've brought it for you to see. ° “I've printed it big, so the angéls Could read out quick, the name, } * * And carry it straight to my mamma, And tell her how it came; . And now, won't you please to take it, ' And throw it up good and strong, Against the wires in a funder shower, . “And the lightning will take it along.” , Ah! what could I tell the darling? For my eyes were filling fast; ' Iturned away to ide the tears, . But I cheerfully spoke at last! .+ “I'll do the best I can, my child,” { ’Twas all that I could say; ! “Thank you,” he said, then scanned the sky, *‘Do you think it will funder to-day " But the blue sky smiled-in answer, P And the sun shone dazzling bright, ' And his face as he slowly turned away, / Lost some of its gladsome light. “Butnurse,” he said, “if Istay so long, Won't let me come any mote; S 0 good-bye, I'll come and seo you again Right after a funder shower." : /—Good Housckeeping.

THE “CLAIM-JUMPER.”

How He Got Even with the Two

“Pardners.”

“What’s that over thar, Bill?"’ asked Joe Scaggs, pointing towards an object that had made its appearance on the prairie, a mile to the south. Bill Barnum looked in the direction indicated.

*‘A house, or I'm a livin’ liar!” exclaimed Bill, with emphasis. ‘*An’ on Dick Barber’s claim, too!”” he continued, witha gesture of excitement.

“Do ye suppose he'’s goin’ ter jump Dick’s claim?”’ asked Joe. 1

“I dunno,” answered Bill. I guess he’s ‘not stoppin’ out thar fer his health. If he is, I'm thinkin’ he’ll soon go 'way on the same arrant, won’t ke, Joe?’ ‘ ‘“You bet!” sanctioned Joe. *‘‘But the ‘way ter find out is ter go over an’ see; an’ while ye air cookin supper, Pll ride over an’ interview the stranger.” b With this, he walked from the door of the half-board, half-dugout shanty, where the two had been standing, and approached a small barb-wire corral near by, where he mounted a powerful cayuse, and galloped away across the stretch of wind-swept prairie that separated him from the distant shanty on the prairie to the south, A few moments’ ride brought him to the front of a little’dug-out shanty that nestled in the sid¢ of a little hiM at the edge of a small ravine. Just around the slight elevation in the prairie stood'a cevered wagon,. or ‘‘prairie-schooner,” as they are familiarly termed in the West.

A pair of sorrel mules, tied to the rear end of the wagon, were busily engaged in eating their evening meal of corn and dry grass out of the wagon-box. A man came aut of the shanty with a frying pan in his hand, and held it over a fire in front of the awelling. e ;

‘Hello, thar!”? exclaimed Joe, angrily. “What in the blazes air ye doin’ hyar?” The stranger turned and looked at the visitor a moment, and then said, quietly: “Fryin’ meat.” :

Joe’s anger rose. ‘‘O, ye air, air ye? Wal, as ye seem tér be so smart, mebby ye ken tell me whose claim ye air squattin’ ont” *I reckon I ken; h’it’s mine.” “Hit is?”? g

“That’s the way h’it looks ter mc.”

“Look hyar, stranger!” said Joe Scaggs, clinching his fist, ‘‘me ;11’ my pardner over thar,” jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his own shanty,, ‘“air holdin’ this yere claim fer Dick Barber, who’sscomin’ out hyarin the spring from Injiany, an’ we'll jist give ye tell ter-morrer ter git out, o’ this!” A .

- “'Tain't long enough time,” said the stranger, deliberately turning over a liberal slice of “muddling” that smoked in the fry-ing-pan. :

‘“How long do ye want?’’ questioned Joe, his wrath somewhat mollified by the stranger’s evident intention of leaving.

‘““‘How long does a man have ter live on a claim before he ken get a deed for h'it?’ was the reply of the stranger. . “Five years,”’ replied Joe. ;

*Wal, then,” continued the stranger, *make h’it five years, an’ h’it’s a barg’in.” *“You impudent skunic!” roared Joe, now thoroughly aroused by the stranger’s cool manner, ‘‘fer acent I'd wallup theground with yer onery carcass.” = '

“Yas, ye might undertake h’it fer a cent, but ye’d never lay up any money at h’it,” was the answer, as he set the frying-pan down and confronted Joe Scaggs. : Joe now moved his hand towards his pistol, but hesitated. ; ;

~ “Look hyar,” said the stranger. “You order me ter leave this claim. Is h’it yourn?? : i :

*‘No, not exactly mine; but we’re holdin’ Wit fer a friend, me an’ my pardner air. We've got the two lyin’ morth o' this, an’ we're holdin’ this fer Dick Barber, an’ we're goin’ ter hold h'it.” g | “‘All right,” he answered. “I guess h’it won’t need much holdin’. H’it’ll be hyar when yere friend comes—so will I If h'it is yere claim, I’ll git off; but ye can't hold h’it fer somebody else. I know the law.”

*Yes, ye may know thelaw, but ye don’t know our law. We’ve made a special law fer sich fellers as ye, an’ we’re goin’ ter go by that, an’ don’t ye fergit h'it,” . “Wal, when ye force me ter go, I'll go—not before.”’ ; !

Angry words rose to Joe's lips, but he hesitated. The cool, indifferent manner of the claim-jumper puzzled him, He was about to speak, when the tramp of a horse’s feet sounded in the grass behind him, and Bil Barnum rode up, a Winchester rifle swung across his'saddle. o “Thought mebbe ye’d have trouble,” he explained, ‘‘an’ that I'd come over an’ see ye out.” ' _ ¢

- “Bill,” said Joe, gaining courage at the arrival of reinforcements, “he says he Wain’ta-goin’ ter leave.”’ ; ; “Won’t he?” Bill answered, bringing his ‘Winchester down on the stranger. “Now, ye load up yer traps an’ git.” “All right)” he answered, doggedly. “¥ou've got ther advantage o me, I'll go, ‘but'Tll git even with ye sometime, see if I I S S (0 i tnsshiing - Nis et Wi«’“mwwm WW Mpflu} " Mw R T PR i

fer yer Httle shanty, seein’ as ye can’t take h’it along.” Ce : “No, h’it ain’t worth nothin’,”” was the answer. “I don’t mind givin’ a good neighbor a little thing like that.”

‘‘Wal, Bill,” said Joe, “h’it's gittin’ late, an’ we'd better be gittin’ ter the shanty and lookin’ after our supper." . “Supper!” exclaimed Bill. “Thar h'ain’t nothin’ fer supper, nor breckferst either, unless that onery cuss gits back from Atticy ter-night.” , : ‘ . “Don’t say that,” answered Joe. “H’it makes me hungrier ’an a bar ter hear ye speak like that. H'ain’t we got nothin’ ter eat?”? !

“No, nothin’ but a few pieces of hard bread an’ a bite or two o’ meat. That onery cuss, John Biggs, that we sent after grub to Atticy, 'l git drunker ’an a b’iled owl, and not come back till we go after him, like asnot.” . |

‘With this they turned their horsesaround, and rode away in the direction of home, leaving the stranger standing in silence looking after them.

Ike Dover—for such was the stranger’s name—turned and entered his shanty. ““Wal, b’it means pull out, I reckon,’” he muttered; ‘‘but I'll jist stay hyar till mornin’ anyway.” : The sun had gone down behind a bank of tawny, purple clouds, and an ashy pallor overspread the sky. “Goin’ ter have bad weather,’’ observed Joe BScaggs, as they rode through the fast gathering darkness. Late that night Bill punched Joe in the ribs with his elbow, and said: % - “Joe, h'it's gittin’ colder ’an all }it out. We’ve got ter git up an’ find some more covers. Gee whiz! listen ter that wind!”?

‘Bill got up and struck a light and put on his clothes.

The weather had suddenly grown intensly cold, and the wind was roaring across the paririe, and sweeping through the- dead grass with a sharp, hissing sound. Bill opened the door and looked out.

A great gust of wind sweptinto the room, whirling a cloud of snow-flakes with it and extinguished the light. :

“A blizzard]” exclaimed Bill, slamming the door and relighting the lamp. Joe had also got up and was putting on his clothes.

“We must see ter the hosses,’” he said, drawing on his heavy boots. “They’ll freeze ter death in }hat shed if they h’ain’t blanketed.” :

He opened the door and went out, and in a few moments returned.

“The hosses air gonel!” he exclaimed,” “broke loose and been driven away by the blizzard.”

" “One uv us must go after ’em,” exclaimed Bill. “H’it won’t do to lose ’em. They’l die in this storm if they don’t find shelter.” “Yes, an’ you’d die a dozen times ’fore ye’d find 'em in this storm.” _ *‘Poor animals!” exclaimed Bill, ‘but h’it ean’s be helped.”’ _ - { - Bill kindled a fire in the little sheet-iron stove in the corner.

The air was growing colder and colder every moment, and the circle of heat around the stoye grew smaller and smaller with each surge of the wind as it shook the roof and sent the sleet and snow hissing through the crovices. r ;

The two men drew their ohairs near the stove after replenishing the flame from a pile of coal in the corner of the room. : - Morning came /at last, gray and desolate, with blinding clouds of snow and sleet sweeping acress the prairie. The storm showed no signs of abating, but was increasing in its fury. : : ‘Joe,” said Bill, breaking the silence, “nobody can’t come from ‘Atticy ter-day; and the pervisions! thar’s nothin’ in the house ter eat.”

Joe got up and looked out at the small window. ! : |

‘H’it’s as yer say, Bill; thar can’t nobody come from Atticy ter-day—"' And then, huskily: *“H'it may be a week ’for’ they ean.t: o :

The two men looked at each other, and each read the other’s thoughts. : ‘‘Thar can’t nobody git nowhar now, and mebby not for a week. Bill, we airin a bad fix.” 1 :

Bill made no reply, but filled a large black pipe, lit it sat down by the fire and began puffing away in silence.

Joe browght more fuel from the corner and filled up the stove. ‘The day passed and night came down and still the storm raged and the snow feli in blinding clouds. . .

It was at the close of the fifth day, and neither Bill ner Joe had tasted food for four days, and as they looked out across the desolate, snow-covered plain, their hearts sunk within them. ~

“Bill,” said Joe, huskily, ‘‘we can’t hold out much longer. H’it’ll be more ’'an a week 'fore any one could giv ¥yar or we could git away.” ‘ “Yas, an’ that will be too late,” answered Bill, an ashy pallor overspreading his thin face.

The next morning Joe arose, kindled the fire in the little stove, and sat down in silence. .

Bill did not get up, but remained in bed* a pinched look settling over his features. It was getting late in the afternoon when be called Joe to the bedside. -

‘‘Joe,” he said, feebly, “I h’ain’t got much longer ter stay with ye. This yere .col is freezin’ my thin blood, an’ I'm gittin’ weaker an’ weaker. . .

“Come, come, Billl” said Joe, a great lump rising in his throat. ‘‘Cheer up; mebby som’thin’ ’ll turn up; mebby——" ¢'Tain’t no use, Joe. We've all got ter g 0 sometime. 'Tain’t no use in hopin’ when thar h’ain’t nothin’ ter expect.”’ Joe made no reply. Stooping down prest ently he drew a little: box from under the bed and took out a small piece of dry, hard bread and laid it by the side of Bill. “Isaved h'it fer ye, Bill,” he said, turning away. ; o

“No—no " said Bill; “h’it’s better fer one uv us ter go ’an both uv us. Mebby, as ye say, somethin’ ’ll turn up, an’—"’ 5 A muffied sound like footsteps in the snow came from the outside, and something like the sound of a human voice mingled with the hissing wind. Joe listened, but the sound was not repeated. He opened the door and looked out. A few feet from the threshold, half buried in the drifting snow, was the prostrate figure of a man, a large bundle of something at his side. A moment, and Joe was stooping over the prostrate figure. He shook him, but he did not speak.' Then, by a series of heroic efforts, he dragged the unconscious man into the dug-out. Ashe did so a bundle that was strapped about the shoulders of the unfortunate became detached and rolled over on the floor, displaying a small bag of flour and a chunk of bacon. ‘

- *H’it’s'John Biggs come back ! exclaimed Joe; “an’ he’s brought enough pervisions ter carry us through, thank God! but, pore feller, he’s almost done fer!” . He hurriedly stirred up the fire in the little stove, and then turning to the unconscious man, he brushed the snow from his wan face. S *Bill,” he said, starting with surprise, “h’it. ain’t John Biggs—hit’s the claimjumper. He's saved our lives, Bill, an’ after we was goin’ ter run him away.” “My God!” exclaimed Bill, struggling feebly out of the bed, new strength coming to his feeble frame. “We must save him, Joe, if he h’ain’t already dead. We mustn’t. let him die. ; : e The two men, shivering with cold and weak from hunger, worked as they never worked before. By their combined efforts, they lifted the poor frozen squatter from m floor and laid him tenderly on their only _He opened his eyes and muttered something in an incoherent manner. The two %fii?ta%:r hixg‘ and nsfiggiflg-' i _ “H'it ain’t much farther,” he muttered. *1 heard ‘em say they didm’t have nothin’ to WW* Tke ‘Dover, Wit's yer ter run me off-h'it can’t be much farther AL ALI s L

in his own. They,were frozen as hard as icicles! He looked at Bill, and uttered a groan. :

‘‘He can’t live, Bill,” he said, chokingly. Bill bent over the bed, his face close to that of the dying man. : “Pardner,’’ he said, his voice husky with emotion, “you’ve throw’d away yer life fer us that didn’t desarve nothin’ but yer hate. You've froze them pore hands fer us onery wolves that would ’a’ driv’ ye away from yer claim. O, if ye could only live ter-tell me how mean an’onery I’ve been ter ye —'"! Here Bill broke down and wept like a child.

’ Presently the dying man muttered: “H'it's \*all right—l see h’it new—thar is the cabin, | right ahead—"" .. And with these words his spirit fled. o . ! For a long time the only sound that broke the stillness of that desolate prairie home was the sobbing of the two men and the hissing of jthe winter wind.—Will Lisenbee, in Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper. ' 2 e e(e .THE NATION’S EXECUTIVE. An Explanation of t—h:_lughts and Powers : of the President. Perhaps no other feature of the government has provoked such general criticism, or been so widely misrepresented and misunderstood, as has the office of President of the United States. Its creation was the subject of singular comments among those who framed the Constitution; it was yiolently denognced when that instrument was put before the people for their approval; it has been the target for savage and persistent assault from that time to the present. And in regard to no other feature of the government, it may be added, have the dismal forebodings of skeptics been so strangely disappointed by the results of experience and practice.

In theory, it may be true that, as the making and enforcement of laws is the great function of government, the power that executes the laws should be in perfect harmony with the power that makes them and be directly under its control—the executive being thus simply the arm of the legislature, acting promptly and ‘implicitly in obedience to its supreme will. This idea, though to-day observed in the workings of other governments, was net accepted by our forefathers. In lodging the executive power in the hands of one person, the Constitution aimed to secure energy and precision in the execution of the laas; but in establishing the Presidency as an independent branch of the government, removed as far as possible from the meddlesome influence of Congress, and endowing it with important special powers, it suggested to many timid folk a vision of royalty in its most frightful shape. Nor were these thoughts quieted by events that followed in the history of the government. Indeed, our third President has given it as his opinion that Washington himself believed the Republic would end in something like a monarchy, and that in adopting his stately levees and other pompous ceremonies he sought, in a measure, to prepare the people gradually for the change that seemed possible, in order that it might come with less shock to the public mind. This remarkable statement we need not take without proot. Whatever may have been Washington's secret fears, certain it is that his devotion to the Republic shielded it from such a fate; and had some of his successors in office, or their advisers, been nearly as wise and as true to the spirit of the Constitution, they would have avoided acts which served to strengthen, rather than subdue, the popular distrust. ‘

That the a,ottxal power of the President exceeds that of some of the crowned dignitaries of earth is universally conceded. The Constitution did not intend that he should be a mere figurehead, or ‘‘ornamental cupola,” to the government. It not only confided to him the execution of the laws, but it armed him with a power over the making of laws which- he might deem improper. By this, we mean the provision that every. measure passed by Congress shall be presented to him for his approval and signature, and that, if disapproved by him, he may return it with his objections, in which case it shall not become law unless again passed by the vote of two-thirds (instead of a majority, as in the first instance) of each House of Congress. Whether this power was given to him solely as a weapon fo defend his own office or the integrity of the Constitution itself from attack by Congress, or whether the Constitution designed that he should in this way have a voice in the making ot all laws, of whatever nature, i one of ‘the questions still unsettled. The weight of opinion and the practice at the beginning of the gove ernment seem to sustain the former view; the strict language of the Constitution is in favor of the latter. The frequent exercise of the power in recent years, in marked contrast with its rare use by earlier Presidents, has aroused harsh feeling on the part of Congress and some very -sober thinking on the part of philosophers; it is plain, however, that the present Executive has no doubt upon the subject. The power is certainly monarchical in its nature, and at first sight appears out of place in a Republic where the will of the people, as expressed by their representatives, should be the law. But here comes in the deliberate device of the Constitution. The executive branch of the government was purposely so shaped as to act as a check -against rash behavior by the legislative branch. The President is not the arm of Congress; he does not owe his office to that body, nor is he directly ' responsible to it for his actions. He is elected, as is Congress, by the people; and, like Congress, he is answerable to the people. Unlike a member of Congress, he is chosen not by the people of a particular State or distriet, but by the people of all.the States. He is, therefore, as an individual, the only representative of all the people, and if, in their Constitution, they, saw fit to give to him, as their great national representative, this great influence over national legisla-one-sixth of all the members of Congress—there is nothing in it contrary to the principles of republican govern-ment.-—Edmund Alton, in St. Nicholas. %@@ww&%‘% b mhateans St o

MASTERS OF SLANG. Good Illnsti-a.flom'd\t——t:o Development It Has Attained To in America. Some men speak slang instead of English. I remember playing whist one day coming up from New Orleans in a Pullman car with three other men, a South American ranchman, a British consul and a Chicago drummer. A preacher with alargé and flabby family entered the car and took a section opposite ours, They made remarks about card playing for awhile, and then raising their voices began to sing hymns at us with a vehemence and earnestness that was almost beyond belief. 1t was such an abominably discordant and unpleasant performance that it finally grew unbearable. The man from Chicago.laid down his cards in the middle of: a verse, and, looking across at the preacher, said: :

“Say! You an' your family are making the hull car fatigued. Drop it! See! Drop it, and don’t take it up again. Life’s too short. This here place ain’t a barracks nor a church. It's a sleeper, and we're not paying extra fare to hear your performance. Selah!” i .

- 1t is in the Fourth ward, however, that slang reaches its highest point. Some time ago I was coming out of Harper's building, when the voice of a boy, who seemed scarcely five years old, arrested my attention. He was a ragged little urchin, and he was pulling his mother’s dress with one hand, while he pointed at the driver of a passing hearse with the other. The driver had a rich burgundy color, and it was concentrated at the end of his nose. It was this that attracted the child’s attention.

#Hey, mudder,” he said, excitedly, “‘pipe his jags wid de rosy beak on the morgue wagon!"’ :

It was akin in accent and intonation to another man, whom I heard as I walked up the Bowery. He wasa barker in front of a cheap museum, and I stopped for a moment to listen to him. He wore a buge cigar in the corner of his mouth, and displayed an ever-varying smile. Just as I was passing his place he raised his voice and cried: . e ‘

“My Gawd! can these things be?”’

‘Every body stopped. : “Here I yam,” continued the barker in a state of excitement, ‘‘shootin’ off me mouth like a wild man, an’ for what purpose?”’ Here he turned and addressed the crowd:

“‘GGents,” he said, solemnly, “‘yer loosin’ th’ chance of alifetime—g’way from that winder, boy, or I'll kick yer lung —an’ whose t' blame? 'Am I? No! Walk in! Walk in an’ look at th’ unrivaled co-lection of U-ro-pee-an an’ naytive novelties from the courts of Tokio, Mokio, Bokio and WHANG aeaon - o ' - The barker then lowered his voice to a whisper and added, confidentially. _“All fer th’ small and giddy sum of one dimeor ten cents, including a troop of wild-eyed children of Borneo, a living skeletan minus of flies, a Cork girl who writes wid her nose, the dog-faced mudder uv four be-00-ti-ful triplets——" At this point he lost all control of himself, and yelled wildly: *Not for ge-t-ting' Munseer Ping-zull-hinkie, France's fav-or-ite son, who can put on his pants over his head, bein’ backed as champion agin th’ wurld by us fer the e-nor-mous sum of one hunderd TOUSAN’ DOLLYERS CASH.” | . |

But then slangis based agood dealon locality. In the far West a man speaks of something satisfactory in the horse and wagon way as ‘‘a dandy turnout, stranger,” while in Newport it goes as g devilish,swagger trap, ol'’ chap’— and there isn’t a bit of difference.— Cor. N. Y. Sun. ’

BALL-ROOM DUST.

Dangers That Are Encountered with a Light Heart by Gay Young Peopie.

Words of prudent caution are apt to be regarded as indications of senility which can be laughed to scorn by the more youthful and robust. The dangers of sudden chills when heated are | rashly braved by those who have not llearned wisdom from sad experience, ' until too many families have to mourn ‘the loss of one whose initial troubles ‘they date back to ‘‘exposure on leaving & dance.”’ A correspondent season‘ably draws our attention to another risk which can not be avoided by the most prudent until it has been generally recognized, viz., the probably deleterious action of the irritant particles of glass flux, known in commerce as ‘‘glittering frost,” ¢‘frost powder,” etc. These particles were formerly affixed to artificial flowers and fancy dresses by some adhesive material, but they are now employed extensively by merely being dusted on before attending places of amusement, and are hence readily shaken off and diffused through the atmosphere by any brisk movements. QOur correspondent has experienced irritation of the throat, while he has known other persons who were affected im the eyes, ‘or who suffered from irritation of the skin of the fate and hands, doubtless to be traced in this cause. It is quite conceivable that the trouble may extend further. It is well known that operatives working in an atmosphere charged with irritant spicules, suffer from various forms of chronic pulmonary disease. In his admirable report upon thé mortality in England and Wales during. the ten years 187180, Dr. William Ogle devoted considerable space to the consideration of the ‘mortality from phthisis and diseases of the respiratory organs in what he terms ‘“dust-inhaling occupations.” His figures bear a heavy record against the dust of stone and the dusi of metal. Hitherto the dust of glass has escaped observation; indeed, the ‘eircumstances under which it is likely to be inhaled render it probable that eubsequont, bronghial aßeotions. av more likely to be attributed to some other cause; still it can scarcely be supposed that these insoluble sharp particles can be inhaled with impunity. —London Lamgst, . e R e Voo ogtg, U s e i bbby bl Mo B 0 Cul very cieariy, as much depends

PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.

—Soarandflop (grandiloquently) — “Yes; it pays to do right. Honesty is the best policy after all.” Frankley“Why don’t you have it renewed.”— Time. {

—*“] am opposed to all games of chance,” said Rawson. ‘And yet you got married?”’ said Lawson. *Yes, and that's why I am sq ‘strongly opposed to ’em.—Drake’s Magazine.

—*l know my defects,” said B-jen-kins pompously; and as the bystanders looked at him admiringly, one of them whispered to another softly: ‘What an awful lot that man nust know!”’— Somerville Journal. {

—Mr. Garrulous—¢Why do people think the Sphinx typical of wisdom, George?” George (who is still suffering trom the effects of curtain lecture) —*l guess it is because the Sphinx always keeps its mouth shut.” —Harper’'s Bazar. “ :

—She—*l must show you my new clock before you go.” He (facetiously) —Some of my friends tell me I am homely enough to stop a/clock.” She —O, that won’t matter! It can be started again.”—Life. |

—*Can’t you spare me a little money, papa?’ *““How much, dear?’ *Well, I want to buy enough material to make one of the new-fashioned bathing suits.”’ ¢“All right, my dear. Get what you want. Here is half a dollar.”’— Richfield News. - ! :

—“What shall we do if the price of flour goes up any further?” exclaimed Mrs. Kneadem to her husband. ‘I can suggest a simple remedy my dear,”’ responded Mr. Kneadem, quietly. ‘‘Just continue your home baking and we need not anticipate any rise in bread.” —Montreal Star.

—Young author—‘‘Doctor, if I can’t get some relief from writer’s cramp I I shall have to giwe up my literary work. I have come to you for advice.”’ Doctor (who has read some of his literary work)—‘My young friend, quit writing entirely, and relief not only instantaneous but widespread will follow.”’—Chicago Tribune. —*You used to think a little more of me and not quite so much of yourself in the days when you were courting me,” exclaimed Mrs. Brown, tearfully, during the course of a little conjugal conflict. ‘““You never said a truer thing than that,” replied the brute. ‘I forgot myself entirely at that time or I never would have proposed.”—Terre Haute Express. :

—-Editor great magazine—¢‘Here is a fine article on ‘Modern Art,’ but it is written by some unknown jay wholives in. Pumpkinville.” Assistant—<All right; I'll go out and find some great artist willing to put his name to it. Guess one will do it for $100.” “Very well; I'll send the jay fifty cents and tell him to keep quiet, and that maybe we'll take another article from him some day and let him use 'his own name.’’—Philadelphia Record. —Blobson—‘Ha, ha! Here's an article which says that before the close of the nineteenth century we shall see women running locomotive engines on our railroads.” Mrs. Blobson—*¢Well, why not? Don’t you think they would make good ones?’’ Mr. Blobson—*‘ln some respects, perhaps. They would keep a good lookout ahead, anyway.”’ Mrs. Blobson—“Why so?” Mr. Blobson—*Because they would have their heads out of the cab window all the time to show their new bonnets.”’— Burlington Free Press.

. SLAVES IN TURKEY. " Poor Girls Enticed From Their Homes And Sold at Constantinopie. - An extensive female slave trade is still earried on in Constantinople in spite of the consuls of the Christian powers. Hardly a week passes without the arrival of a white-haired courier, between 65. and 70 years old, accom‘panied by a cenvoy of young girls, mostly from poor families in Galicia, whom he haes induced to come with him to the Turkish capital under the promise of a ‘“splendid” situation or a “rich marriage.”” The Austrian consular officials, as well as those of other powers, have kept a wakeful eye upon this old scoundrel and stopped him from landing his ‘‘wares” in Constantinople itself. It is now discovered tha# he takes them to a spot where they are out of reach of European law—-Kawak, the Turkish quarantine station on the Bosphorus. Here they are unshipped and sent ultimately to Constantinople by the land route to Bujukdere. Here not a soul is troubled about their deplorable fate, and their redemption from the horrors prepared for them is only possible through energetic for-. eign help. The ‘‘proprietor” takes them to a certain bourse, called the Casino, where his living wares are dealt with exactly as if they were dead matter or shares. The price for the “coarse wares,”’ as they are brutally described, varies from $l5O to $3OO. The price of the finer wares is higher, reaching thelevel sometimes of $1,200. They are bought for customers in Smyrna, Alexandria, Cairo, and other places under Mohammedan rule. The ‘‘brokers’ attempt to conceal the nature of their trade by deceptive advices; for instance, ‘Expect three dozen silver spoons.” (which is technical for the *‘finer wares,”) gr “We send five vessels of ‘meal,’ (a medium quality), or ‘‘eight sacks of potatoes,” (the coarsest quality.)—Chicago Mail.

Kissing Under the Mistletoe.

Respecting the question of kissing under the mistletoe, a correspondent writes to London Notes dnd Queries: *One would suppose, from the part played by the mistletoe in Scandinavian mythology, that this custom was common to all northern peoples. Baldur was slain by a mistletoe dart at the in~ stigation of Loki, and in reparation for the injury the plant was afterward dedicated to his mother, Frigg, so long as it did not touch earth, Loki’s empire. On this account it is hung from the ceilings of houses, and the kiss given under it signifies that it is no longer an instrument of mischief. The fotes ‘held in commemoration of the sacred ‘mistletoe survived in some parts of I et e talsmanio properiss, nd s Testival WWWMW“W

A CHILD’'S MISTAKE. Said a dear little girl, and I heard her myself, As she reached for a book on the very top shelfs “How I wish I might live like the birds and the flowers, : . With nothing to do through the beautiful hourss Or else like the sun, that has only to shine, Or dance with the shadows that hide in the vine! : : L But no! I must study from morning to night. Long sums I mus% add; there are copies to write, : g To school I must go, and for, oh, such a time! It's just like a terrible mounntain to climb. Dear! dear!” and the child, with a pitiful . frown, ; ” : And a heart-piercing ory, to her gram'mar sat down, . ! Then flashed a fair sunbeam full into her face, ! As if challenging frowns in so lovely a place, i ‘“Why, darling,” 1t laughed, all a-quiver with | glee, - ‘ | “If you want to see work, you must travel with | me. : . I never am idle the swift-rolling day, i But Igoto my tasks in the spirit of play; : And wherever I'm ordered there straightway I fly. s Cheer up, little maid!” said this voice from the oo sky. : There was heard a quick flurry of wings over- | head From an army of birds; and, as southward they ' sped e Came, clear as a bugle, the leader-bird’s song: “You are wrong, little lady! I'm sorry you're wrong! And Ican’'t stop to tell you,” he sang, as he flew, : . “*But no one is happy with nothing to do!”

And the flowers? A rose, peeping in at the

pane, : Breathed gently this message: “‘ln vsunligpt and

ran, i i ‘We children of earth, dear to all who behold, ‘Wear meekly our splendors of crimson or gold. ;}nd,Aborn in the purple, we royally gpend .

Our fragrance in blessing. until our lives end. We seem to bedle, I grant, but you know

There’s never a flower that has not to grow; And growing, dear child, means aspiring, see, As I, when I whisper so softly to thee.”

She picked up the book; it had dropped from her hand. _ , : At least.”” said our pet, 'I can this understand: God gives all His creatures some duty each day, And mine is, perhaps, just to trust and obey. I'll not think of the mountain before me to . climb, ; But cheerfully mount it, one step at a time.” . —M. E. Sangster, in S. S. Times.

A GREAT TROUBLE. .

The Plan by Which Dolly Sweet Paid for and Was Cured of Her Caieless . Habit. : o ~ *Oh dear, I have dreadful trouble!” sighed Dolly Sweet. ‘lt seems aé\if I couldn’t bearit. Nobody knows how I feel.” S :

“What great wave of sorrow has rolled over you now, Puss?” asked brother Ben, looking up from his Latin. “Isyour cake all dough?” -. ‘“You know I haven't any cake. You are laughing at me, You'd think it was trouble!” sobbed Dolly. “Tell me all about it,” said Ben. “Who knows but I ecan find a way out of it™ ;

| ‘“There isn’t any way out of if,” said the little girl. ‘You see mamma has got the idea that I am careless. "Tisn’t so; Pm just as careful, but some way my things get out of sight. Last week one of my rubber overshoes got lost, and then I couldn’t find ene of my new red mittens, and my handkerchiefs are always losing; and so mamma said if T lost any thing more, I should have to earn the money and pay for it. She said 'twould teach me to be careful.” : “Your mother is wise; it’s a good plan,” laughed Ben. ¢But I would not cey yet.” = 5 ‘“You don’t know the worst,” said Dolly. “This morning I borrowed mamma’s pearl-handled pen-knife, and to-night I put it in my pocket just as careful, and ’tisn’t there, and mamma says I'll have to pay a dollar.” L “Did she know you borrowed it?" asked Ben. : Dolly hung her head. : ‘I asked her if I could take it to sharpen my:pencil,” she said, very low; “‘but may be she didn't know how I wanted to take it to school.”” ~ *I should think not,” said Ben. ‘‘But how will you earn the monev? I've got a little I could lend you.” “Mamma says Iv'e gotto earn it,” said Dolly. ¢‘She'll pay three cents every time I wipe the supper dishes, and four cents if I go. without dessert for dinner. How long will it take to earn a dollar?” , “Just about two weeks,” answercd Ben, ‘if you don’t miss any days.”” There were signs of another tear shower, which the kind brother hastened to avert. = ¢ / ' : ‘I don’t see. as I can wipe your dishes, or divide my pudding with you,” he said, ‘for'in that case I suppose you couldn’t earn your money, ‘but I'll do this: whenever you wipe the dishes clean and bright, without any tears, or frowns, I'll give you a ride down the long hill on my ‘traverse.’ Will that help any, Puss?” *“Oh goody!” cried Dolly, the tears giving place to smiles. o “And I'l give you the first one now,” said Ben. “Put on your wraps, and we'll have a jolly slide.” ° oy When Dolly came back her face was 80 bright you would not suppose she had ever had any trouble. G For two long weeks she wiped the supper dishes, and went without dessert for dinner. It was hard and they all pitied her, but there came a day at last when Dolly stood before her mother, with a bright face: = - . ~ “There, mamma, I've earned the dollar to pay for the knife,” she said, *and I'm so glad.” L | “I am glad, t 00,” said mamma. “And I think, little daughter, that you are improving. You haven’t lost any thing for a week—have you?” . - - “No,” said the little girl, ‘‘only a lead pencil; but I most lost a button off my cloak. Will you please sew it | on? I putitin my pocket.” “Idon’t find it,” said mamma, looking in all the pockets.. . =~ . 2 “Tsurely’ put i there,” said Dolly. - “You said you put the knife in your pocket, but—why, here’sa hole!”" . - Mrs. Sweet ripped a larger hole, and. put her hand between the outside and lining, and took out two pencils, three Mfifmm-mwmm OB O seled Dolly: .91 id ot e TR N

month. - You will have a dollar on tho’ credit side to begin with.” . f

“How nice!” oried Dolly. _“And? will you pay me all the money that's] left over?” e ¢

“Certainly I will,” said mamma. | Dolly clapped her hands. *l'll have lots of money for next Chris?g mas!! she said. *“You just wait an see.”—Youths’ Companion. ~ A 'HOUSE IN THE AIR.

What a Wide-Awake Reporter of a Nowf e York Daily Discovered. i i

You may think, says the Christian/ Union, that the reporters of the daily papers. need only know how to write,: but that is a mistake. They must be wide awake all the time, see things| that you would not notice. They must be patient, and willing to take a good! deal of trouble for very small things.: The following account given by a reporter shows how observant he must be. This reporter was in the habit of going up and down on the elevated' road, and tells of a house he. discovered: ‘. !

~ “I saw this week the loftiest building in New York City. Not that it stood as high in air as the tall ‘Tribune’ tower, or soared a parallelogram into the clouds like the Potter and Mills buildings, butits foundations are seventy feet above the earth, and that’s about as high as any reasonable creature would care to lay the foundations of his home—rather higher, in facti than. most of us relish. T stands on the highest point of the elevated road, at the northeast corner of One Hundred and T'enth street and Manhattan avenue, dees this little browni house, and is inhabitated by a well-to« do pair of English sparrows. If you look closely as you swing round the second curve on an uptown train, yow can catch just a glimpse of the little: cottage as you run by. Many timid people would object to putting their heads out of the window at this point and having it brought vividly home to them that they were swinging by am iron spider-web so many feet above the rocky earth. It isn’t‘easy to, either, unless you know where it is, for the little residence is very nearly the color of the big iron girder against which it rests, and the train rattles by the; place in a great hurry to reach One' Hundred and Sixteenth street. My at~ tention was attracted to it first by noticing the sparrows always wheeling about that place, no matter what time of day. or year I went by. 1 ftried and tried again ‘to discover what the attraction was, but in vain, for it seemed as if the train always put on an extra spurt of speed just there. and whirled me bv betore I could quite solve the puzzle.. . Finally, my curiosity = was roused to. such an extent that I eounted the blocks to One Hundred and Sixteenth street, and, getting off there, walked back to the place, and, standing underneath, first saw the airy villa, which commands, I think, a fine view of Central Park, stretching away south and eastward, and all Harlem lies at its feet for a happy hunting ground for its in‘habitants. It seemed such a queer place for the little bird-house that I inquired among the trainmen concerning it, and was told that a track hand, who is English and very patriotic, bitterly resented the persecutiors and vituperations of his little fellow-coun-trymen in feathers. He has always done his best to shield and help them, and, his duties of track inspection leading him over this bit of very elevated road, he conceived the idea of erecting an asylum up = here for his reviled compatriots, where they would be safe from marauders. A great iron rod runs through the middle of the girder, and is firmly bolted at the end. The bolt - protrudes foue or five inches, and the section man climbed out to the ‘edge of this dizzy, ‘eminence and lashed the bird-house in its place. It is on the south side of the structure, so that it is somewhat. protected from the worst fury of the winds, but it must be an awful place to winter in, yet the sparrows don’t seem to mind it. A hardy couple took possession at once, and for two years have raised three or four broods annually in it, and seem to enjoy railroad life very well. The section man takes an infinite pride and comfort in the success of his scheme, and as soon as the snow would permit after the blize zard he went, with great anxiety, to see whether it and its inhabitants had weathered the terrible storm, rejoicing to find them safe andsound.” , = .

Salary No Object.

Young Woman (at intelligence of«. fice) —Any situations open to-day? | Manager—Yes. There is a fine open~ ing for a ‘‘second girl” in & good family on Sunny avenue, $4 a week. Duties light. And you get your board free, you know, and two afternoons off every week. [ Young Woman (haughtily)—Any other chances? . S

- Manager—Let me see. H’'m. Yes, Gruindem & Hardface, the dealers im green hides and tanners’ supplies, in une basement this side of the docks om Dingy row, want an assistant booke keeper. Salary small, of course— Young Woman (excitedly)—Never mind the salary. Give me a note to the firm!—Chicago Tribune.

Americo-African Philosophy.

Hit er eagy toe kill de hungry fly. De steel-yard won't lie less yo' make it o E

De well offenes’ dipped gibs-de sweet= es’ watah. . De dawg er ez apt toe bahk at an hones’ man ez he am at a t'ief. A maay folks say t'ings dat hit er hahd toe git any one toe sw'ar toe. De fool dat keeps his mouf shet offen looks mo’ wise ‘en a weddah prophet. De man w'at's mos' discreet w'en sobah makes a-many slips w'en drunk. -—Judg& S s ei S { —Prize Ring Etiquette.—“Aw} sir, T understand that you are Reddy Dona~ hue, the prize fighter?” *No, sir, ¥