Rensselaer Republican, Volume 22, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 June 1890 — OUR PLEASURE CLUB. [ARTICLE]

OUR PLEASURE CLUB.

rU,UJI yon what my brother done*. ■ought a double-barreled gone Apd crouohed behind a pile of rocks. To see if he could shoot a locks. But crouching made his crouchers ache. Until he cried, “far heaven's sache! Are there no fockses?” There was none. My brother traded off nis gone.

ENDING THE WAR. N. Y. Son. As we lay facing the rebel lines around Petersburg the last winter of the war the men in the rifle pits refrained from firing at each other, except when ordered t° do so to cover some new movement. One night I was in a pit about half a mile from what is known as the “crater,” and I soon found that there was a “Johnny” in a pit facing me, and only a stones’s throw away. Everything was quiet in that neighborhood, and! had been in the pit about an hour when he called out: “Say, Yank, what about this hyar wahp” “ hat do you mean?” ‘ ‘ hen are you ’uns gwyne to quit?” * ‘When you are licked out of your boots.” “Shoo! you can’t do it in a hundred years.” “Well, we are going to keep trying.” He was quiet for a few minutes, and said: •‘Say, Yank, this is an awful wah.” ’•Yes.” “Heaps o’ good men being killed." “Yes.” “Heaps o’ property gwine to wreck.” “Yes.” ‘ ‘Does you uns lay it to meP” “Well, you are helping to keep the w ar going.” “And I hadn’t orter?” “Of course not.” ‘ ‘And if I should come over to you uns it might end this fussing?” “It would help.” “Wall, Beems that way to me. ’Pears to me a sort o’ duty. If I kin stop this bloodshed an’ won’t do it then I’m onery mean, hain’t I?” “You are.” “Hain’t got no true apeerlt in me, eh?” “Then I guess I’ll come. I’m aheadin’ right fur yur, and do you be keerful that your gun don’t go off.” He came to my pit, bringing his gun along, and as I passed him to the rear he said: ‘ ‘This ends the wah and I’m powerful glad of it. Reckon your Glneral Grant will be surprised when he wakes up in the mawnin’ an’ finds the rebellion all petered out and me a-eating Yankee hard tack.”

TOO MUCH SO. As he walked with the baby He had to confess That marriage with him Was a howling success. ANXIOUS TO DSLOAI). New York Weekly. Stranger—“l represent an English syndicate, and am looking for investments.” Chicago man—“ Glad to see you, sir. How would you like to buy a World’s Fair?”

" HE FIDDLED AND. THEY FIT. Virginia City Chronicle. A Mill Creek miner thus winds up the story of a fight between 1,000 wolves that besieged his cabin one night recently in the mountains of that region, incited to frenzy by the notes of the aforesaid miner’s fiddle: ‘‘l fiddled and they fit and ate each other, till they began to thin out. Every time I gave an extra rasp on the E string they howled louder and pitched in afresh. They kept it up for three hours when there wasn’t more than forty or fifty left, and they so blamed full that they could hardly waddle. But I fiddled and they fit for a second wind. When one threw up the sponge the others bolted Him in a twinkling. By and by there wasn’t more than a dozen left. But I fiddled and they fit and feasted. “When they got down to three, each one laid hold of another’s tail and chawed for glory. The ring kept getting smaller, but I fiddled and they chawed until there was only a bunch of ha’r left, and that blowed away down hill. The snow was all red with blood and trampled down ten feet. Heads and bones were strung all down the canyon, and there was fur enough ip sight to stuff a circus tent. It was the dandiest dog fight I ever saw.”

A FARMERS FIRST DEPOSIT. N. Y. Sun. Th#y had opened a bank at Medina the fifat one in the history of the town and one day after it was in good running order Farmer Adams hltohed his herse and wagon in front of the buildS, looked to see if the orook of butand basket of eggs were safe, and n entered the building. He was well known to all of the officials, and hitch had a word for him as he entered, lie looked around him in wonder, and then addressed himself to the President. » * 1 ‘Wall, Steve Smith, you've gone and ipsjyfl a bank, ©h?” a reg'lar oharter?” •«*b. **•" ‘ ‘wt tninff# so that rpbbers can't git the *Xf 9 ” now, lofk-a-here, Stevq, I’ve tauoweA Toh a long tijpa, haven’t IP” *®»u have. M*. Adams.'' r Vndirod you when your father run

off and left the family as hud up as a spring coon with a broken leg?*’ “Yes.” ‘ Knowed you when you growed up and married H anner Taylor ?” “Yes.” “How is Hanner and the young ’uns?” • Well, thank you. ” ‘ ‘That’s proper, but what I was goin' to say was that I guess I’ll put some money in your bank—not a great deal, but jist ’null fur a nest egg, like." ‘We shall be glad to number you with our patrons.” “Yaas, but look-a-here, Steve, I don’t want no foolin’ about this bizness. When I want my money I want to find it right here.” “Certainly.” ■‘And I want to find you here.” “Of course,” “And if you bust up the bank and run off with the cash, as some of ’em hev done, do you know what I’ll do? I’ll hitoh up the old mare and foller you to the end of the airth, and when I overhaul you I’ll give you the allflredest drubbing any man on this globe ever got.” “You need have no fears, Mr. Adams.” “Waal, you hear me, and now here is four dollars to begin on. It’s to sort ’o try you, and if everything is all right, I may put in some more when I sell that steer. That’s all, onless you bust up and run away.”

a plunger’s awful agony. Texaa Siftings. Time—lß9o. Place Sheepshead Bay race track. Before the race. Moses Mosenstein (near-sighted and nervous) —Mosey, vere is Firenzee? Moses Junior—He is shust coming out, fader, mit a blanket on. Moses—-A blanketP I don’t like dot. First Quarter. Moses Vere is Firenzee now, Mosey? Moses Junior—De last in de race, fader. Moses—Holy Abraham! but dot is terrible-awful! Second Quarter. Moses—Vere is now, Mosey, my son? Moses J unior—De same place, fader. Moses—Ach, mein Gott! I am a ruined man! Vy did I gampol? Third Quarter. Moses—Vere now, my dear son? Moses Junior—Still de last fader! Moses—O, Rebecca, O, my poor leetle children, your vicked fader has ruined you sere ver; mein Gott, let me die! Home Stretch. Moses—Who vine, my poy? Moses Junior—Firenzee. fader. Moses—Tank Gott! Mosey, go over and cash my ticket. It is for $2. Mien himmel. I’ll never gampol again! THE SAFEST SIDE. Milkman (to applicant for situation) —“You have [had experence, have you?” Applicant—“Oh yes, sir.” 1 ‘On which side of a cow do you sit to milk?” ‘ ‘The outside, sir.

CUPID HAS HIS WAY. In winter oft the gas burns low— Sufficient is the fire’s bright glow. On summer nights ’tis turned down—so— Because it heats the room, you know. ’Tis thus that Cupid has his way. Let any season come that may. '

APPLIED COMMON SENSE. " Out about four miles from Hatches I came across a colored man who had headed for town wifih a jag of wood on a one-mule wagon. At a narrow spot in the road, where the mud was a foot deep, his old mule had given out, and the wagon was stalled. The man sat on a log by the road side, smoking a corn-cob pipe and enjoying a sun bath and after viewing the situation I asked: “Well, what are you going to do?" “Huffin' boss,” he answered. ‘ ‘Going to leave the rig right there until it sinks out of sight?” ‘ ‘Oh, she’s dun gone down about as fur as she kin!” “Are you in no hurry?” ‘ ‘Ho, sah. Ize got all dis week to get to town.” “Well, you take things pretty cool, I must say.” “Say, boss, jist sot down heah hall an hour an’ see de fllosophy of da thing,” he answered. “I’ze working a common sense plan on dis difficulty.” I got down and took a seat, and it wasn’t ten minutes before a cottonteam, with four darkies perched on the bales, came up from the rear. “Yo\ dar—what’s de rumpus?” demanded the driver as he checked his mules. “Dun got stuck fast.” “Oh—ho! Come along boys an 1 git dat ole mewl outer histrubblet” They all got down, eaoh took a wheel, and with a “heave-oh” the wagon was lifted out of the mud and was ready to go on. “See de pint?" queried the owner of the rig, who hadn’t lifted a pound himself. n >‘l do.” ‘ ‘Dat’s what ail de black man to-day —hain’t got no fllosophy. He-haw, now, Julius-git right up** bend you ole back-bone! So long, white man—see yo’ later!”