Rensselaer Journal, Volume 12, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 December 1902 — Our Man About Town [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Our Man About Town

Discourses On Many Subjects and Relates Sundry and Other Incidents.

Statistics show that Indiana is commercially one of the best states In the union. The only thing the matter with Indiana is her climate. She is pretty sensible on other subjects, but she is as fickle as a new soubrette in regard to her weather. When she gets up in the morning there is no telling what kind of weather she will wear before she goes to bed. One day she oomes out with a low-necked, tropical climate, and the next day she wears a yarn scarf and mitts. People living in Rensselaer never have to travel to get k ohange of climate. They can Just sit around the house and when the kind of weather comes along that they want they oan go ont doors and let it soak into their system. Maroh is a particularly interesting month in Indiana. During this month the Indiana man gets up in Florida, eats dinner in Tennessee, feeds the cows in Kansas, eats supper in South Dakota and goes to bed in Alaska. But Rensselaer people would rather live here and be yanked from Texas to the north pole and back again every day or two than to live any place else, even where the climate has more dignity and strength of oharaoter. V

The postage stamp now in nse is made of paper so flimsy that it is easily torn in separating it from its fellows on the sheet. The perforation which is supposed to make the easy, is very imperfectly done—much more than at any time since the perforating machine was invented—frequently the perforations extend down into the top of the stamp too far. The colors used upon many of the stamps are “fast” only In the sense that they “run” when they beoome moistened, and this entails great annoyance upon those who mast affix many stamps in a day. Finally as a crowning fault, there is some radioal defect in the gam used for adhesive purposes. It readily absorbs moisture from the atmosphere and sticks to itself or to anything else it touches with the pertinacity of scandal. He who undertakes to carry stamps in the pocket-book finds a considerable percentage of them useless after a few hoars, and even the handling of a fresh sheet of stamps is a disagree-' ably sticky job. The plain truth is either that the contract for making the stamps has been let too low, or that the contractor is making too much money by cheap and careless manufacture. In either case the condition of things is a serious annoyance to the public which the postofflce department should speedily remedy. V

A drummer who makes this town every month or so was spinning a yarn on himself the other night at the Makeever House which was pretty good. “Last winter,” he said, “I was compelled to spend a sorry half day at the junction of a branch line to Colorado Springs. It was bitterly oold and the waiting room was only half heated. The main line was blocked by a blizzard and the train was five hours late. I shook my fists at the everlasting hills and proceeded to execute a kick on the station agent. These things did not hurry the train, or supply anything to eat but I felt better, and it warmed me up a bit. The agent, however, merely grinned through the window of bis warm boxlike office as though it was an every day occurrence. Then he pulled the window down. On it was a sponge tied to a card and printed on the card I read, ‘Don’t chbw the rag; the sponge is softer.’ ” One of our high school girls was talking with her chum the other evening. “Well, well,” said she, “one learns something every day. “What have you learned today, my dear?” asked he. “Here’s a picture of Andromeda chained to a rook.” “Well, yon knew that Andromeda, daughter of Cassiopeia, was chained to a rook to be devoured by a sea monster, didn’t you, by oommand of the oiadtf’ “Oh, I had a sort of an idea' like that, hot I didn’t know that • was her name.”

“What did you think her name was, then?” “I though it was Ann Dromeda, daughter of Mr. Dromeda.” V A ragman who was gathering up worn out clothing out in Jordan township purchased a pair of discarded trousers at a frame house and incidently remarked to the man of the house as he paid for- the stuff he bought: “I see that you are about to lose your land on a mortgage.” “Guess you’re right, but will you tell me how In Sam Hill you found out?” “Easy enough,” said the cheerful ragman as he settled back on his peddling wagon, “I notice these old pants are completely played out so far as the part of them yon sit on is oonoerned but they show mighty little wear anywhere else.” A farmer may plant his oorn too thick, but he oan mend his error by polling out the surplus stalks. A carpenter may saw his board too narrow and fill the orack with pntty. A bank oashler may make an erroneous entry but correct the same by a counter entry on the opposite ledger. A doctor may give the wrong medicine, bat the viotim, if he lives, cannot then prove the doctor was wrong. If the editor makes a mistake every man, woman and ohild within the range of the paper’s circulation knows it before sundown and a dozen warm personal friends will tell the editor next day. %* A clever woman put the question “What will a woman’s smile buy?" at a soiree the other night and received the following answers. Love, said the yonth. Position, said the shrewd observer. Heaven, said the poet. A spring bonnet, said the husband. Dross, said the oynio. Ohampagne, Bald the ohappie. Oompliments, said the social leader. Fame, said the theatrical manager. Luck, said the gambler. Men’s souls, said the extremist. Anything I want, said the woman herself.