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Willmar tribune. (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, November 07, 1900, Image 3

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn89081022/1900-11-07/ed-1/seq-3/

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BRIGADIER
E E A
[Copyright, 1897. by F. Tennyson Neely
CHAPTER I.
Bidin at ease in the lazy afternoon
sunshine, a single troop of cavalry as
threading its a in. long column of
os through the bold and beautiful
foothills of the Bi Horn. Behind them,
glinting in the slanting rays, Cloud
peak, snow-clad still, although it as
late in May, towered above the pine
crested summit of the range. To the
right and left of the winding trail bare
shoulders of bluff, covered only by the
dense carpet of bunch grass, jutted out
into the compai*athe level of the east
ward plain. A clear, cold, sparkling
stream on whose banks the little com
a had halted fcr a noontide rest,
rollicking a a northeastward,
and many a veteran trooper looked
longingly, even regretfully, after it,
and then cast a gloomy glance over
the barren and desolate stretch ahead.
Fa a» the could reach in that di
rection the tart waves h*a\ed and
rolled in unrelieved to to the
very sky line, save where here and
there along the slopes black herds or
scattered dots of buffalo were grazing,
uniexe by hunters, red or white, for
this as 30 years ago, when, in
countless thousands, the bison co\ered
the westward prairies, and there were
officers who forbade their senseless
slaughter to make food only for the
worthless, prowling cij otes. N won
der the trooper hated to leave the foot
hills of the mountains, with the cold,
clear trout streams and the bracing
air, to take to long days' marching over
dull waste and treeless prairie, covei ed
only by sagebrush, rent and torn by
dry raAines, shadeless, springless, al
most waterless, save where in un
wholesome hollows dull pools of stag
nant water still held out against the
sun, or, further still southeast a
the "bieaks" of the many forks of the
Sout Chejenne, on the sandy flats
men dug for water for their suffering
horses, yet shrank from drinking it
themselves lest their lips should crack
and bleed through the shriveling touch
of the alkali.
Barelj tw 3 ears a commissioned of
ficer, the lieutenant at the head
of the column rode buoyantly along,
caring little for the landscape, since
with every traversed mile he found
himself just that much nearer home
Twenty-five summers, counting this
one coming, had rolled over his eurly
head, and each one had seemed bright
er, happier, than the last—all but the
one he spent as a hard-worked "plebe"
at the military academy. His gradua
tion summer years previous as a
jlor to him, as well as to a pretty sis
ter, and enthusiastic enough to
think a brother in the regulars, just
out of West Point, something to be
made much of, and Jessie Dean had lost
no opportunity of spoiling her soldier
or of wearying her school friends
through telling of his manifold perfec
tions. He as a manly, stalwart, hand
some fellow, as graduates go
and old ones wish they might go over
again. He as a fond und not too teas
ing kind of brother. He wasn't the
brightest fellow in he class by
odd, and had barely seraped through
one or of his examinations, but
Jessie proudly pointed to the fact at
much more than half the class had
"scraped off" entirely, and therefore
that those succeeded in getting
through at all were paragons, especial
ly Brother Marshall. girls at at
school had brothers of their own, is
had never seen West Point or had
the cadet fever, and were not im
pressed with officers as painted
by SO indulgent a sister. Most of the
girls had tired of Jessie's talks, and
some had told her so, there as
one had been sympathetic from
the start—a far western, friendless sort
of girl she was first she entered
school, uncouthly dressed, wretchedly
homesick and anything but compan
ionable, and yet Jessie Dean's kind
heart had warmed to this friendless
waif and she became her champion,
her ally, and later, much to her genu
ine surprise, almost her idol. I pres
ently transpired at "the Pappoose,"
as the girls nicknamed her, because it
was learned at she had been rocked
in an Indian cradle and had long worn
moccasins instead of shoes (which ac
counted for her feet being so much
finer in their shape an those of her
fellows) as quick and intelligent be
yon her years, that though apparent
ly hopelessly behind in all their studies
at the start, and provoking ridicule and
sneers during the a weeks of her
loneliness and home-longing she sud
denly began settling to her it
grim determination, surprising her
teachers and amazing her a by
the vim and originality of her meth
ods, and before the end of the year
climbing for the laurels it a mental
strength and agility at put other ef
forts to the blush. Then a me
of bliss spent it a doting father at
Niagara, the seashore and the in
a dear ad as ill at ease in eastern
circles as his daughter had been at
first at school, until he found himself
welcomed it open arms to the offi
cers' messroom at the Point, for
Folso as as noted a frontiersman
as ever trod the plains, a an old offi
cers of the cavalry and infantry knew
and honored as "a square trader" in
he India country— a an the
Indians themselves loved and trusted
far and wide, and a an as on
he trust and faith of an Indian let
grapple it to his breast as a treas
ur the having, great even as
"the heart love of a child." Sioux,
Shoshon and Cheyenne, they would
turn to "Old John'* in their councils,,
their dealings, their treaties, their per
plexities, for he said a in as
right and square their doubts were
gone and there at the in the
well-to-do old trader had
In a at Laramie
and Omaha, a there his pretty
schoolgirl daughter her so
**A
friend's big brother Marshall, a fiist
classman in all his glory, dancing with
damsels in society, while she was but
a maiden shy in short dresses. Oh,
Jes had longed to be of that party to
the Point, but her home as in the far
west, her father long dead and buried,
her mother an invalid, and the child
was needed there. Earnestly had old
Folso written, begging that she
had been so kind to his little girl should
oe allowed to visit the seashore and
the Poin with him and "Pappoose," as
he laughingly referred to her, adopt
ing the school name given by the girls
but they were proud people, were the
Deans, and poor and sensitive. They
thanked Mr. Folso warmly. "Jessie
as greatly needed at home this sum
mer" as the answer but so
somehow felt it as because they
dreaded to accept courtesies they could
not repaj in kind.
"As if I could ever repay Jess for all
the loving kindness to my little girl in
her loneliness," said he. No, there
was no delicious visiting with Pappoose
that summer, but it what eager in
terest had she not devoured the letters
telling of the wonderful sights the
little far westerner saw—the ocean, the
great Niagara, the beautiful Point in
the heart of the Highlands, but, abo^e
all, that crowned monarch, that
plumed knight, that incomparable big
brother. Cadet Capt. Marshall Dean.
Yes, had come to call the very even
in of their arrival. had escorted
them out, papa and Pappoose, to hear
the band playing on the plain. He
had made her take his arm, "a school
girl in short dresses," and promenaded
with her up and down the beautiful,
shaded walks, thronged with ladies,
officers and cadets, while some old
eronies took father away to the mess
for a julep, and Mr. Dean had intro
duced some girls, professors'
daughters, and they had come and
taken her driving and to tea, and she
had seen him every day, many times a
day, at guard mounting, drill, pontoon
in or parade, or on the hotel piazzas,
but onty to look at or speak to for a
minute, for of course she was "only a
child," and there were~dozens of so
ciety girls, young ladies, to he
had to bo attentive, especially a very
stylish Miss Brockway, from N
York, with he walked "and danced
a great deal, and the other girls
tried- to tease about him. Pappoose
didn't write it in so many words, but
Jessie reading those letters between
he lines and every which way, could
easily divine that Pappoose didn't fancy
He madeTier take his arm
Miss Brockway at all. And then had
come a wonderful day, a wonderful
thing, into the schoolgirl's life. N
less than twelve pages did sixteen
veai-old Pappoose take to tell it, and
AY hen a girl finds time to write a tw elT-Te
page letter from the Point she has more
to tell than she can possibly contain.
Mr. Dean had actually invited her—
her, Elinor Merchant Folsom—Wino
na, as they called her she as a
toddler among the tepees of the Sioux
—Pappoose as the girls had named her
at school—"Nell," as Jessie called Jier
—sweetes name of all despite the ring
of sadness that ever hangs about it—
and Daddy had actually smiled and ap
proved her going to the midwee
on a cadet captain's broad chevroned
arm, and she had worn her prettiest
white gown and the girls had brought
her roses, and Mr. Dean had called for
her before all the big girls, and she
had gone off it him, radiant, and he
had actually made out her card for
her, and taken three dances himself,
and had presented such pleasant fel
lows—first classmen and "yearlings."
There as Mr. Billings, the cadet ad
jutant, and Mr. Bay, as a cadet
sergeant "cut on furlough" and kept
back, but such a beautiful dancer, and
there as the first captain, such a
witty brilliant fellow, only
danced square dances, and several ca
det corporals, all hop managers, in
their red sashes. Why, she as just the
proudest girl in the room And
the drum beat and the hop broke up
she couldn't believe she'd been there
an hour and three-quarters, and then
Mr. Dean escorted her back to the
hotel, and Dadd had smiled and
looked on and told he come
into the cavalry he graduated
June, and he'd show the
Sioux country, and Pappoose would
teach Indian dances. I as all
simply lovely.' Of course she it
as all due to Jessie that her splendid
brother should give up a whole
evening from his lady friends. (Miss
Brockwa spoke so patronizingly to
her in he hall he girls were all
talking together after the cadets had
scurried a a to answer a to roll
call.) Of course she understood that
if it hadn't been for Jessie none of
the cadets would have taken the
slightest notice of her, a mere chit,
it three years of school still ahead
of her. all he a me it as some
in to live over and over again,sarid
am of over and oyer again, and the
seashore seemed stupid carter the
Point. N year—next June—whe
Marshall graduated Jessie as to go
and see that wonderful spot, and go
she did with Pappoose, too, and
it was all as beautiful as Pappoose
had described, and the scene and the
music and the parades and all were
splendid, there was deliriously
lovely hop, for in those days there
could be no dancing in the midst of
examinations. There as only the one
great ball given by the second to the
graduating class, and Marshall had so
many, a older girls to dance it
and say good-by to he had only time for
a few words it his sister and her
shy, silent little friend it the
brown eyes to he had been so
kind the previous summer, when there
were three hops a week and so
many hoppers in long dresses. Still,
Marshall had one dance with each, and
introduced nice boys from the lower
classes, and it as all very well, only
not at Pappoose had painted, and
Jessie couldn't help thinking and say
ing it might all have been so much
sweeter if it hadn't been for that odious
Miss Brockway, about Marshall
hovered altogether too much, but, like
the little Indian the girls sometimes
said she was, Pappoose looked and
said nothing.
All the same, Mr. Dean had had a
glorious graduation summer of it,
though Jessie saw too little of him,
and Pappoose nothing at all after the
breaking of the class. In September
the girls returned to school, friends
as close as ever, even though a little
cloud overshadowed the hitherto un
broken confidences, and Marshall
joined the cavalry, as old Folsom had
suggested, and took to the saddle, the
prairie, the bivouac and' buffalo hunt
as though native and to the manner
born. The were building the Union
Pacific then, and he and his troop,
with dozens of others scattered along
the line, were busy scouting the neigh
borhood, guarding he surveyors, the
engineers, and finally the track-layers,
for the jealous red men sw armed in
myriads all along the way, lacking
only unanimity, organization and lead1
ership to enable them to defeat the
enterprise. And then when the whist
ling engines passed the forks of the
Platte and began to climb up the long
slope of the Rockies to Cheyenne and
Sherman Pass, the trouble and disaf
fection spread to tiibe far more nu
merous and powerful further to the
north and noithwest and there rose
above the hordes of warriors a chief
whose name became the for
deep-rooted and determined hostility
to the whites—Machpealota (Red
Cloud)—and old John Folsom, he
the Indians lo^ed and trusted, grew
anxious and troubled, and went from
post to post with words of warning on
his tongue.
"Gentlemen," he said to the commis
sioners came to treat it the
Sioux whose hunting grounds adjoined
the line of the railway, "it's all very
well to have peace with these people
here. It is wise to cultivate the friend
ship of such chiefs as Spotted Tail and
OW-Afan-Afraid-of His Horses, but
there are irreconcilables bejon them,
far more numerous and powerful,
are planning, preaching war this min
ute. Watch lied Cloud, Red Dog, Lit
tle Big Man. Double, treble your gar
risons at the posts along the Horn
get and children out of
them, or else abandon the forts entire
ly. I know those warriors well. Thrv
outnumber you to one. Fe
enforce garrisons without delaj
or get out of that country, one of the
two. a everything south of the
Platt while yet there is time."
Bu wiseacres at Washington said
the Indians were peaceable, and all
that was needed as a new post and
another little garrison at Warrior Gap,
in the eastward foothills of the range.
Eight hundred thousand dollars would
build it, "provided the labor of the
troops as utilized," and leave a good
margin for the contractors and "the
bureau." And it as to escort the
quartermaster and engineer officer and
an aide-de-camp on preliminary survey
that troop of the cavalry, Capt.
Brooks commanding, had been sent on
the march from the North Platt at
Fetterma to the headwater
1
•iWPf*
of the
Powde river in the Hills, anc1 it it
went its new first lieutenant, Marshall
Dean.
CHAPTER II.
Promotio was rapid in the avalry
in those days, so soon after the war.
Indians contributed! largely to the gen
eral move, but there were other causes,
too. Dea had served little over a year
as second lieutenant in a troop doing
duty along the lower Platte, va
cancies occurring gave him speedy and
unlooked-for lift. had Mr.
so once. Th veteran trader
had embarked much of his capital in
business at Gate City, beyond the Rock
ies, but officers from For Emory, close
to the frontier town occasionally
told? him he had on a stanch friend in
that solid citizen.
"You ought to transferred to
Emory," said. "Here's he band,
half a dozen pretty girls, hops twice a
week, hunts and picnics all through
the spring and summer in the moun
tains, fishing ad libitum, and lots of
fun all the year around." But Dean's
ears were oddly deaf. A classmate let
fall he observation that it as be
cause of a Ne York girl had jilt
ed at an had foresworn so
ciety and stuck to a troop in the field
but men and served with the
oun fellow found him an enthusiast
in his profession, passionately fond of
cavalry life in the open, a bold rider, a
keen shot and a born hunter with
the a a after day, in saddle long
hours, scouting the divides and ridges,
stalking antelope and black-tail deer,
chasing buffalo, he lived a life tha
hardened every muscle, bronzed the
skin,clearedthe eye and brain and gave
to even monotonous existence a "verve"
and zest the dawdlers in those old-time
garrisons never knew
,[To Be Continued.]
S a on a
"You think I had better simulate in
sanity? said the accused man
"I do," answered the adviser. -r
"What's the best a *J i*"*
"Well, you're no actor, of course.
I were I'd some a maps of
South Africa and repeat he geograph
ical names over and over. I the course
of a short time I don't believe
have pretend at all."—Cassell's. 5
Russian railway express trains a
sleeping cars even fo third class pas
sehgers,
WW
.'HE BABGE OFFICE.
Place Where Immigrants Must An
swer Many Questions.
Not All 'Who Conie to Owr Shores Arc
it to Land—Work of
he Commissione of I
a
[Special New York Letter.]
GREAT crowd of people is
pushing against the rope that
has been stretched along the
outer edge of the walk in front of the
barge office on the Battery. Men and
women are struggling with one an
other in their endeavor to get to the
front. Four police-men parade up and
down the line, swinging little canes in
a vain attempt to keep order.
From, the door of the building a
stream of immigrants is pouring.
There are men clad in clothing made
of queer cloth and cut in quaint shapes.
There are women—mostly without
head covering—dressed in the pictur
esque costumes of the far-away coun
tries. Some are leading by the hands
GREETING HIS SON WITH A KISS.
little children attired in miniature imi
tation of old women and old men, and
others carry in their arms big bundles
of shawls and rags, beneath the cor
ners of which peer the shining ej es of
infants.
Those coming down the steps have
met their relatives and their friends.
Those without the rope are seeking
the loved ones who have come from be
3 ond the sea. There is a wild jargon of
voices—a strange commingling of
many tongues. Jus off the walk, up
toward the Battery park, an old man
in a long coat, a skull cap, with gray
beard and stooped shoulders has
thrown his arms around his son and
kissed him on the cheek. Not far from
here a young woman stands bewildered
and alone. Her escort who had met her
on the borders of the strange land has
left her for a moment, and she has
been surrounded bj a horde of rapa
cious expressmen. Within the build
ing, close to the identification desk, is a
tall, lank Dutchman. On his head is an
odd little Dutch cap. His trousers have
a hitch and his coat has a swing that
betravs his nationality. It has only
been a few davs since he discarded the
wooden shoes of his fatherland and his
baggage bears about it the air of dj kes
and ditches. To each one of the at
tendant passes he sajs in low
Dutch "Have you seen my Jacob?
Tell me if you have seen Jacob?"
Out on the esplanade three Turk are
making salanis to an aged father. An
old Russian woman,- speechless with
joy, is clinging like a child to the skirts
of a daughter who led the wa3 to the
wonderful America. And above it all
may be heard the rollicking laugh of
the Irish lad, surrounded by his friends
who have preceded him and are al
ready giving him information on the
ins and outs of city politics.
The ship has come in. And some
come with joy and some with sadness.
If 3 ou care to study the great foreign
population of America, as it comes to
us in the original form, 30U should
spend one da3' with the commissioners
of immigration. Last a 400,000 im
migrants came to this country—a pret
t3' good indication of the rapidit3' with
which the land of libert3T is filling up.
You doubtless have seldom given heed
to the care that must be exercised on
EXPRESSMEN FIGHTING FOR PREY.
the part of the government officials
pass on the right of these people
to come among us and make this land
their own When the gates have once
been opened they are our people. I it
a wonder, then, that they are closely
scrutinized by the gatekeeprs? Las
year, in round numbers. 35,000 of the
immigrants were deported. got
no further than the examination room
of the special board of inquiry, and
their glimpse of the land which they
had hoped to inhabit extended only to
the trees in Batter park.
Lon years of practicehave made the
system of the commissioners almost
perfect. When the ship first enters the
harbor she is placed in (quarantine by
the N York state medical board. If
any of the passengers fire found it
contagious diseases they are detained
at Swinburne and Hoffman islands.
This is the work of the] state authori
ties, After that the United States im
migration officials from {he marine hos
pital board the vessel ajad examine all
for diseases of the eyfes, the throat,
etc. Th cabin passengers are exam
ine aboard ship, butj the steerage
passengers are examinee in the barge
office. The are transferred from the
ocean liner on a barge) and are
through each department as rapidly
as possible* Th expeditjon with which
the officials transact their inquiries and
examinations may be understood
it is known at fron 2,600 to 5,000
eases are passed upon a.'a day.
til?
Wheu the immigrant first airites at
the barge office his name is enteied in
a book in alphabetical order. This is
called the identification bock, and is
kept at a desk in the front of the
building on the ground floor, where
all inquiries in regard to friends and
relatives are answered. No immigrant,
unless he have a manifest card—that
is, a card of directions, stating ex
plicitly where'he is going, which is is
sued b3' the railroad or steamship com
pany at the point at which he starts—
is allowed to leave the building until
some friend calls for him. If he have
no card and no one comes for him he
is retained for five a in what is
called the "New York pen." This in
realit3' *s
a
commodious room furnished,
with comfortable seats and benches.
During the immigrant's stay there he
is fed at the expense of the steamship
company that brought him over. The
meals are furnished by a restaurateur
located in the building, who pays the
government $5,000 a year for the con
cession and furnishes a bond of like
amount as a guarantee that the food
shall be pure and palatable. The ex
pense to the steamship company is 50
cents a day for each immigrant de
tained. If at the end of five da,\s no
one calls for the immigrant he is re
turned to the country whence he came
at the expense of the company that
brought him here.
Although he has already passed the
state quarantine, each immigrant as
he comes in his turn is closety examined
by three doctors, and if he be found sick
or in any way indisposed he is sent to
the medical department on Long Island
and the steamship company which he
patronized is charged $1.50 a day until
he is released. If be pass the medical
examination satisfactory- he then goes
before the registry^ clerk Here his
name is entered and he is asked leading
questions as to his ability to gain a
livelihood in the new count -y to which
he has come as to his past record—
whether or not he has been a criminal,
and whether or not he is likety to be
come a pauper. Sometimea queer an
swers are brought out b3 these ques
tions. An Irish girl with red cheeks
and beaming with good nature was
asked the other da3- how she expected
to earn enough money to keep her, and
she replied, as her cheeks got still
redder:
"Shure, and it's at I'm going to
marr3."
"Where is a asked the clerk.
"Shure and isn't this Pat? said the
girl, pointing to the stalwart laddy-
"HAVE YOU SEEN MY JACOB?"
buck standing at her side who had
come over in the same ship with her.
"And what do you expect to do?
asked the clerk, turning to the man.
"Shure," said Pat, "an' it's meself
that will get on the police force."
If the answers are not satisfactory
to the clerks the immigrant is turned
over to the special board of inquiry.
There three examinations are held. At
the first the immigrant appears alone.
At the second his friends appear for
him, and at the third hearing the en
tire case is reviewed. If the case is de
cided adversely, the immigrant, unless
an appeal to Washingto is made, is at
once deported at the expense of the
line bringing him here.
Th attendants about the building
must necessarily be extensive linguists.
All of speak at least seven or
eight languages, and the chief of the
interpreters speaks 26. In all there are
242 languages and dialects spoken by
the officers of the immigration com
mission.
When the immigrant has been passed
upon by the examining staffs and he
has been given a clean, moral and
physical record, he is soon sent on the
completion of his journey. The rep
resentatives of all the railroads in the
country have offices in the barge build
in and they conduct the passengers
that are to go to their respective lines
safely to the stations.
And so each day the great
ships come in hundreds and hundreds
of these people are going to the
east, to the west to the north and to
the south, becoming farmers and arti
sans and mechanics, swelling the mil
lions, strengthening the sinews of the
nation, and a in it still
mightier and stronger.
FREDERICK BOYD STEVENSON.
Satlsfacto Definition.
A old Highlander, rather fond of
his glass, as ordered by his doctor
during a temporary ailment not to
exceed one ounce of spirits in the day.
Th old man as a little dubious
about the amount, and asked his boy,
as at school, much an
ounce was. "Sixteen drams one
ounce," said the boy. "Sixteen
drams," cried he delighted man
"Gaw! no so bad. Ru and tell Tonal
MacTavish to come doon the night."
—Tit-Bits.
One tor he
"Shall I order dinner for asked
the official of the jury, while the twelfth
an was holding out against the eleven.
"Yes," replied one of the eleven,"
make it eleven dinners- and a bale of
hay."—N. Y. Times.
Patched
"They have made it up I thought
it was all over them.""
"Yes but they were so sorry to
have it all over at concluded
to start it all over."—Puck.
A Q«le re In
"Noiseless pneumatic tires .are put
on rocking chairs now.
1
a
"Well, let us be patient maybe they'll
get around to putting on piano
keys."—Chicago Becord.
Am Unexpecte Retort
"1 preached this morning,** re
marked a conceited parson, "to a con
gregation in which idiots comprised
the majority."
"Yes," rejoined the young lady to
his remarks were addressed, "I
noticed you frequently called them
'beloved brethren.' "—Chicago Daily
News
His Think
He thought he thought great thoughts and
thought
No other thought a thought
If others ever thought he thought,
They thought he thought he thought.
—Chicago ?imes-Herald.
JUST E RIGHT STATtTRB.
Mistress—Are you not rather small
for a nurse?
Nurse—No, indeed, madam. The chil
dren don't fall so far when I drop them.
—Jugend.
The Sequel.
"Ah, but 3 ou have a loving husband,
Mrs. Simms. I remember before
marriage he said he would move heav
en and earth for 3-ou."
"I remember but now that we are
married he won't even condescend to
move the dresser so that I may sweep
beneath it."—Chicago Daily News
A Heart W
He was inclined to be facetious.
"What quantities of dried grass you
keep here, Mrs. Stebbins! Nice room
for a donkey to get into!
"Make jourself at home," she re
sponded with sweet gravity.—Tit-Bits.
Not to Be Trusted.
Wife—Let me send for Dr. Killman
You said some one recommended him
highly.
Sick Husband—I don't want him,
dearest. The man who recommended
him is an undertaker.—Harlem Life.
Jus the W a She Has.
The first of woman's want is man,
In that there's nothing strange
But after getting him she wants
From his pocket all the change.
—Chicago Daily News.
HAD A HANDICAP.
Constance E.—Do you think you can
get my husband acquitted?
Lawyer—I'm afraid not, madam.
ConstanceE.—Wh y, everybody knows
my husband*!
Lawyer—That is just the trouble.—
Chicago Chronicle.
in in Sagacity
Mother—Do you think that 3'oung
Perkins has an3- intention whatever of
marrying you
Daughter No the least in the
world, mamma That is I feel so
sure of getting him!—Puck.
Considerate
Maud—What an exquisitely dainty
little case you are embroidering! Is
it for jewels?
Isabel—Well, no. Bu you see, poor,
dear Harry has nothing to keep his
pawn tickets in!—N. Y. World.
Usually the Case.
"The man you hear singing about a
'Home on the Ocean Wave,' the first
night on shipboard," said the Observer
of Events and Things, "the next day is
apt to look homesick."—Yonkers
Statesman.
A E my to the W
Charles—Is your girl opposed to your
smoking
Clarence—I think she must be. Every
night I come away from her
house I find or three broken cigars
in myvest pocket.—Stray Stories.
me Treasure a a Pleasures
The joy of coming home let's sing,
And right and left fond phrases fling
Of greeting dear ones then, my muse.
All hail the joy of one's old shoes!
—Detroit Free Press.
he Bachelor
Yeast—The say that have
discovered a a of seeming to be al
a do you at it is
Crimsonbeak—Yes lying.—Yonkers
Statesman.
E id A a in Him
Shrewd Deacon—Go ahead, I guess
you'll not catch me napping.
Trader—I don't know about that, if
I'm to judge of what I saw in church
last Sunday.—Detorit Free Press.
Explaining Himself.
She—Oh, George, have on spoken
to papa
He—No that on my face I
at the barber shop to-day.—Yonkers
Statesman.
W Ways.'
^•What are aborigines, pa?
"Aborigines, Bobby, are people
act all the time the a a do
we have company."—Chicag* Becord.
Ho Her Probability
"Maria," called out the anxious
mother of the family, "the clouds look
terribly threatening. I'm afraid we
are going to have a tornado. You'd
better go and wake your father."
"I'd rather not," answered the eldest
daughter. "If I call him as early as
this there'll be a tornado without any
sort of doubt."—Chicago Tribune.
Quite Eaall Explained
"Willie," 6he exclaimed, severely,
"why did you go to the jam jar while
I as out?
But Willie had taken his lesson from
Mahomet and the mountain.
"Because the jam jar wouldn't come
to me," he answered, promptly.—Chi
cago Post.
A Variable.
Teacher—How many pounds to the
long ton?
Precocious Pupil—Two thousand
hundred and forty.
Teacher—And how many to the
short ton
Precocious Pupil—Depends on the
coal dealer.—Puck.
Equippe for the W
"Every man," quoted the thoughtful
one, "is the architect of his own for
tunes."
"Yes," returned the observant one,
"and the character of the structures
put up shows that few have tftken the
necessary course in architecture."—
Chicago Post.
Th Good-tor-T\othing-.
Lives of some men oft rcmird us
If we had but half their gall.
We could loaf, too, and behind as
Leave not any tracks at all.
•-Chicago Record.
ANOTHER VIE W OF IT.
Clerk—I've been in your employ for
many 3ears, sir, and as I was married
yesterday I'd like an increase in my
salar3.
Moneybags—But, my dear sir, this
house is not responsible for accidents
happening to its employes.—Chicago
Inter Ocean.
A Humdru Existence
Mae—Inez seems so unhappy since
her marriage.
"Ethel—No wonder! Her husband
is such a poor spirited creature that he
agrees with her in ever3'thing. She's
juzt c1' .w^ £01 seme c. 3 el
it 2\. Journal.
Help Wanted
Mistress (to new cook)—I shall go to
market with you on Wednesdays and
Saturdays.
N Cook—All roight, mum But
who'll be afther carryin' the marketin'
on other days, mum?—Chicago Daily
News.
Condensed Tragedies
"What do 30U think is the saddest
work of fiction you ever read?"
"The cook book," answered the young
woman who had not been married very
long. "Not more than one in ten of
those pieces come out right."—Wash
ington Star.
Might Bite the Angels
A four-year-old girl, whose dog had
died, said to her Sunday school teach
er "I guess the angels were afraid
when they saw him coming up the
walk. He's cross to strangers."—Cin
cinnati Enquirer.
If The Only Could.
"These miners," said the clock, "O, my!
I think they're merely shirking,
Why can't they do the same as I—
Just strike, and keep on working?
—Philadelphia Press
HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL.
ZrJ0"4c
Stout Lady—Yes, my dear, I must say
I do like that blouse you're wearing.
I must get one like it. I makes you
look so slim and genteel.—Moonshine.
Rest
"When you see the folks are restless,
Of course you stop," said I,
"Oh no, when I see they're restful."
Bald the preacher, with a sigh.
—Detroit Journal.
Art Compulsion
First Atrist—I see Dauber has taken
his wife as a model for one of his an
gels.
Second Artist Yes she'd snatch
him baldheaded if he didn't.—N.
Weekly.
A a E a a
He— A woman's face shows her tal
ent. +f
She—How so
He—Well, there's Miss Antiquate, for
example. He face tells me at he
is a great artist.—Chicago Daily N
An One,
Little Patsy—What's a
a
O'Bafferty A mo goose, is it
Shure, thot's a gander.—Brooklya
Luev^ft. «^i*"^s
jS?*"b!-»
3
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