Helena, Montana, Thursday, January 21, 1886.
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IF 1 WERE VO!'.
Why did lie look so grave ? she asked.
What might the trouble tie - /
My little maid," he sighing said,
"Suppose that you were me,
And you a weighty secret owned.
Pray tell me what you'd do."
•J think I'd tel! it somebody,"
Said she, "if 1 were you !"
But still he sighed and looked askance.
Despite her sympathy.
"Oh, tell me. little maid," he said
Again, "if you were me.
And you loved a pretty lass.
Oh' then, what would you do?"
"I think I'd go anil tell her so,"
Said she, "if 1 were you!"
"My little maid, 'tis you," he said
"Alone are dear to me."
Ah, then, she turned away her head,
And ne'er a word said she,
But what he whispered in her head.
And what she answered too—
Oh, no, I cannot tell you this ;
I'd guess, if I were you !
THE FERRYMAN'S DAUGHTER.
The ferryman's daughter is young and fair.
With soft blue eyes and dark brown hair,
And a voice that is low and tender;
And often she sits by her father's side.
As he ferries me over the river wide
In the sunset's golden splendor.
Sometimes from under her'bonnet's rim
I catch her peeing up—at him.
As he sings some shoresman's ditty ;
Sometimes she dabbles, as we glide,
With her white lingers in the tide—
The minx ! She knows she's pretty !
The ferryman's daughter is coy and shy,
But, sometimes, 1 catch her eye—
The maiden fair must know it!
Then if there's love liehind the lashes.
Though she looks quickly duwn and plashes
Surely her cheeks will show it!
A SONG FOR GIRLS.
How dear to my heart is a sack made o'sealskin,
A garment adapted to keep out the cold!
'Tis not like the jersey, which (its like an eel
'Tis loose, graceful, easy, and fair to behold.
How smooth and glossy ! Its beauty enchants
What garment so lovely when worn by a
Both walking and sleeping its poetry haunts me.
The sack made of sealskin that tits me so well.
The sack made of sealskin—the smooth, glossy
The beautiful sealskin that fits me so well.
New Year Resolves.
DeeemlKT comes with bitter blast,
Time swiftly onward steals,
The winter days now follow fa t
Upon each other's heels.
One day and then another goes,
And those who are alive
Will shortly look upon the close
Of eighteen eighty-five.
When the old year shall take its flight,
The new we'll turn to meet
With re-o!utions for the right
Young eighty-six well greet.
And then we ll all swear off again,
Our hearts with pride aglow,
And keep the pledge like honest men,
For half a week or so.
IH. C. Dculge, lu Good all's Clii a go 3m.]
. Observe *. * * . •
* * .* * . these busy little bees • * . • ,
* * ** a laying up their honey . . • .
* » * anil try to be as wise as these * *•
* ' . by saving all your money. You * . •
* * . smoke sav, five cigars away, and * * *
* * drink, say rfx times dally; caïds, pool * •
* * ainl billiards, too, you play, and treat .
. tin- fellows gayly. In twenty years this , *
. fun will cost, according to good scholars, .
. with Im.ci' t, and time that's lost, just ,
* "i. But if you count your loos of ,
heallh and self Inflicted trouble, you'll
. find this foolish waste of wealth will llgure .
more than double. Then, when it's time no
more to slave, but pleasure take, so sick you wll
feel because you didn't save, you'll want somi
one to kick you. So imitate these busy bees
and all your pennies treasure, and then,whet
older, take your ease, with forty yours of pleasure
Preparing for the New War's festival.
[J. A. Macon in Chicago Rambler.]
I'll git my full-dress razzer out an' make hei
For I wants to Loss de table at de festervu
I nebln -r dull di; weepin when I go to shave
But I keeps her v, ith a shiny aidge an' fixée
for sailin' in.
I always try to keep de peace, an' nebbei
fight at all,
An' nebber carve up naffin', 'cep' 'tis 'possmr
in do fall,
Or, ruebbo, when I cut a grimly chicken froc
• an' froo,
Or scarify do mutton at a summer bobby
But 'tis Ins' tor go out fortertied an' ready
for a fray.
For lots o' things may happen as you trabble
'long de way.
You got to lo >k out sartin when you go tc
break a colt,
An' de feller fights de pretties' dat gets de
M hen you start out ou a cloudy day an' heat
Your obercoat won't hu't you ef it shouldn't
rain a drap;
Tis Las' to hab two galluses, do' oue "ill hold
An' 'tii hard to make too many licks in chop
pin' out de rows.
Den'tis well to be pertickler when you're
walkin' in de night,
An' fix vi'ure'f for dang'ous things befo'dey
git in sight
Vi hen 1 go to cut de pidgin-w ing, or he'p'eir
wid a song,
I don't forget my manners 'cause I takes my
But a nigger feels his keepiu' when he tries a
dance or two,
W id a lady hitched onto him and a razzer ir
MARGARET OF NEW ORLEANS.!
Whose Memory win He Hevered By Or*
1 'lians oil Christmas J>ay.
New Orleans, Dee. 22. —Fancy celebrat
ion g Pilgrim Fathers' iluy in New Orleans!
It sounds like the millennium, when the lion
and the lamb shall lie down together, and the
lamb not be inside the lion, either. It is
enough to make Gen. Robert Toombs, rest his
fiery soul! come to life again.
But that celebration is just what is going
on here to-day. It comes ab )ut through the
industrial exposition. Pilgrim Fathers'
day, Dec. 22. was set apart for New England
day in the New Orleans exposition.
It is not of Pilgrim Fathers' day in New
Orleans tha' I am going to write in this lèt
ter, though. It is of something connected
with industries, indeed, but of industries that
will count in the eternities. A friend has
given me a picture. It is before me now.
Our artist has reproduced it for you here be
fore your eyes.
It is simply a photograph of a plain, stout
old woman. The face is broad, lit up withal
by an expression both shrewd and kindly.
Margaret Haughery was a poor girl of
Irish parentage, who could neither read nor
write. Yet she made a fortune of half a
million of dollars. That of itself was
enough to make any woman famous. Few
enough of the sex could do it, poor things!
But hear what she did with this nobly
At this time of the year she comes back
to the memory with especial vividness, for
now hundreds of orphans will be enjoying
the festive season which she gave them.
Only for her love and labors, their Christ
mas, poor fatherless ones, would have been
sjtent in want and misery. Blessed are they
who make the children happy at Christmas
Margaret, the orphan's friend, had herself
been a lonely orphan. She began life as a
domestic servant. But she was'naturally
drawn to the alleviation of human suffering.
She was a devout Roman Catholic, and
under the direction of the sisters of charity
she became a hospital nurse. While serving
in this field one of her patients noted what
good care she took of him, and made up his
mind that he would have her all to himself.
He proposed marriage and was accepted.
But the husband died in their first years of
married life. Her only child died, too, and
Margaret was left alone to do her life work.
She managed the dairy in an orphan
asylum awhile. Then she opened a little
eating house. But one feature of her career
is singular. AYith all the money she amassed
she never entered on any enterprise without
a benevolent motive at the back She had
noted how the Mi-sissippi steamboat labor
ers, ''deck hands" they are called, were
swindled out of their money, and how they
stupefied themselves with whisky and then
about boozing kens till they were pushed
Margaret thought she could do them some
good. So she opened the little shop where
river laborers could get a cup of good coffee
and a roll for the merest trifle. It is not on
record that she ever succeeded in reforming
the deck hands to any great extent, but she
did build up in time a great manufacturing
business. She erected a steam cracker
bakery, a building several stories in height.
Her wagons supplied bakers' goods to the
city. I have seen them myself. On the out
side were the words: "Margaret's Bread and
Crackers." At first she drove her own bread
cart about the city. Money rolled in, and
she might easily have died a millionaire.
But most of all the orphans had her care.
She knew what it was to he left without
father or mother, and get no education,
not even enough to read. Iu the course
of her life she either founded or aided
eleven orphan a-ylums, Catholic and
Protestant, black and white alike.
In February, 1882, this good woman died.
Never was there such a funeral in Louisiana
Bo far as I kuow she was the only woman in
America that has ever been buried with pub
lic honors. The governor and an ex-gov
ernor of the state were among her pall bear
ers. Delegations from her eleven or
phan asylums attended the burial. The
New Orleans fire department were in the
procession. The bells all over the city tolled
as the cortege moved along the streets.
When it reached the chambe r of commerce
an un-beard of thing happened. The mem
bers paused iu their gabble, and with one ac
cord came dow n to the sidewalk, and stood
reverently with uncovered heads while the
body of Margaret w as carrie 1 past them to
its rest. She is buried in St. Louis cemetery.
The day after her death the building of the
monument, shown in the picture, was pro
posed. It has been erected by the contribu
t ons of all classes of people iu Louisiana and
New Orleans, even to the newsboys. All
alike reverence 1 Margaret. It was unveiled
T uly 'J, 1>>S4.
The statue stands in the square, opposite
the orphan asylum she helped to build. It
represents h *r. not idealized, like a classic
ligure, but far more worthily, broad, plain
and with the common dress she wore, her am'
encircling one of the orphans whomsne loved.
"And so she died, and so the people set
Amid their heroes—w ith a proud consent—
This single woman-crowned monument.
And carved thereon the one word. 'Mar
garet. h' SHAH Kjv<*
The IVrjt of tbs T-nveler Is Hard.
[Burdette in Brooklyn Eagle. 1
When w? reacbe l Toi -io I looki1 at mv
watch. We had larely ten miu utes to get
across to the Union depot and catch tha
Cana la Southern train. It looked like
an impossibility, but to an old traveler
tber > is no s ich word a; f, a, 1, e. 1 to;s; 1
mv boy in o the nearest carriage, buried
mv i t -ria after him, rau down tue plat
f rm lii:j a m id man. tore the ch/cts from
m/ I nggige (I always call my rtom my
apartments, the check on mv trunk my
checks, and my family physician mv physi
cians; there is so much embonpoint and
coup d'etat in a piu"al), drag tel in/ trunks
to the carriage myself, aal shouted to tha
astonished hackman: "An ex.'ra dollar il
we catch the Canada Southern!' How that
man lid drive. Rackety swat over the
pavement; of Tolelo, over a telegraph
messenger boy on this corner and within
an inch of going over a wheelbarrow
at a crossing, but the wheelbarrow, being
alone, was more active than toe messenger
boy, and so got out of the way. Over the
bridge like an arrow, in spite of legal pro
hibition, down to the Lslan 1 house, and
here we are. I thrust the nackmau's pay
uni extra fee into his bon>st palm, had the
trunksoff the carriage before be could touch
it, and whirled it up to the baggage room.
*■' 'droit!'' I y.lied. "Lively now—have
tick't in min't!'' Awav 1 flew to the ticket
f fflee, knocking people right and left, fol
lowed by the inspiring cheers and pleasant
remarks of the multitude "Tick't, Troitl"
I shouted to the ageat, snatch *d up my
ticket, threw down my money, ran away
without my change and found my trunk
checked. I seized it by th * remaining han
dle, yanked it off the truck, and, hauling
my now affrighted family along with the
other hand, I flew toward the track where
the Canada Southern should be standing.
Eut a quiet, grave-looking man with a rail
wav uimorin on stopped me.
Pound to catch the Canada Southern.
"Where are you going? ' he said, quietly.
"Detroit!" I yelled. "G'out o' my way,
r I'll ride ye down."
"But vour train is not ready," he sail,
persuasively: "it doesn't start for nearly
an hour ye.. You should not get so excited.
The baggage master will take care of that
trunk and 1 w ill call you when the train is
readv. The waiting room is just at that
further e id of the station."
Any man's watch is liable to run down
and s-op, bu^ that is no reason why tha
peopl- wao loiter about railway stations
should be fool;. There is too much broad,
glarin : publicity about our American rail
way stations. There should be more privacy,
more exclusiven ?s;. At every ra il way sta
tion where pe >ple of the upper da-s-es are
liable to be misled as to the standard and
running time of inactive watches, and thus
be led into somewhat extravagant action,
there should be a long, deep, dark hole,
about til teen miles long, extending under
the nearest range of mountains, for the citi
zens of the upoer classes to retire into until
the coarse Ularity of the vulgar crowd
should have expended itself.
A Maryland Fditor Gets Mail.
A yellow-backed pirate named Jim Cum
mings, who works for Sam Hardacre, near
Millville, came to town last Saturday,
and, wiii.- drunk a: Creswj.l s grocer/,
made some rema-ks about ourselves as we
were passing up the street with our young
est daughter. He was soured because vve
turned .hint over two weeks ago and his
crowd that took the lvnchpin out of old
man Parson's buggy at the Goose creek
meeting. When he spoke his in suitin'»
froth Hanberry Davis took it tip, and. in a
row which followel, he struck the gorilla a
surbimler on the jaw which knocked him
out from between his wool suspenders and
loosenel six ot hi? teeth. He had Davis ar
rested by Marshal Billings, and the mayor
levied a fine of §10, which we paid for him
as soon as we learned the facts. We intend
to show up th? whisky yahoo; from the
Grose creek neighborhood .who try to run
this town Sacurdays; and, by the way
Han Davis is a caudulate lor town mar
shal. Le is the man for that jab.
He Held the Sheep, Poor Thing.
[Detroit Free Press.]
He came into a butcher shop and asked
for half a pound of mutton chops. It was
unmistakable that his business necessitated
bis calling "e-a-s-h" quite frequently. As
the man of the cleaver sawed, cut and chop
ped, the purchaser remarked in a week
"Aw, I was a butcher once myself."
"Y'ou a butcher!" said the sausage com
"Y'es, aw. You see, I went into the busi
ness, aw, and they first told me to hold a
ßheep down on the floor, don't you know,
and, gracious, they stuck a kuife right into
the poor beast's throat. I, aw, fainted, and,
when I came to, I left the liawwid busine-s,
aw, and now I sell dry goods."
Just as he got his purchase the door was
opened and the sudden draft blew him out
on the street.
[Rehoboth Sunday Herald.]
"Isn't my photograph excellent." said *a
young wife to her husband. "Wed, my
dear," replied he, "I think there is a little
too much repose about the mouth."
Norristown Herald: A TTew Jersey weather
prophet says January will be an "extremely
cold month." This will be very disappoint
ing to those persons who hoped that January
would be an extremely hot month, as usual
TEARS, IDLE TEARS.
>je Meets a Lady AVho Weeps "OÏ ,
! Boston (5 lobe. ]
The train was crowded somewhat, and sc 1
sat in the seat with a woman who got aboa-d
at Minkin's Siding. I noticed as we pulled
out of Minkin's Siding that this women
raised the window so that she could lid
adieu to a man in a dyed mustache. I do rot
know whether he was her dolce far nieute, or
her grandson by her second husband. I
know that if he had been a relative of mine,
however, I would have cheerfully concealed
She waved a little 2x6 handkerchief out
of the window, said "Good-by," allowed a
fresh zephyr from Cape Sabine to come in
and play a xylophone interlude on my spinal
column, and then burst into a paroxysm o 1
damp Lot tears.
I hail to go into another car for a moment,
and when I returned a pugilist from Chicago
had my seat. When I travel I am uniformly
courteous, especially to pugilists. A pugilist
w hb has started out as an obscure l»oy with
no money, no friends, and no oue to practice
on except his wife or his mother; with no
capital aside from his bare hands; a man who
has had to fight his way through life, as it
were, and yet who has come out of obscurity
and attracted the attention of the authorities
and won the good will of those with whom he
came in contact, will always find me cordial
and pacific. Bo I allow ed this self-made man,
with the broad, high, intellectual shoulder
blades, to sit in iny seat with his feet on my
new and expensive traveling bag, while I sat
with the tear-bedewed memento from Min
She sobbed several more times, then hove a
sigh that rattled the windows iu the car, and
sat up. I asked her if I might sit by her side
for a few miles and share her great sorrow.
She looked at me askance. I did not resent
it. She allowed me to take the seat, and I
looked at a paper for a few moments so that
she could look me over through the corners
of her eyes. I also scrutinized her lineaments
She was dressed up considerably, and when
a woman dresses up to ride iu a railway
train she advertises the fact that her intel
lect is lieginning to totter on its throne.
People who have more than oue suit of
clothes shoifld not pick out fine raiment for
She seemed to want to convei-se after a
while, and as she began on the subject of
literature, picking up a volume that had
been left on her seat by the train boy, en
titled. ''Shadowed to Skowhegan and Back;
or, The Child Fiend: price $2," we drifted
on pleasantly into the broad domain of let
Incidentally I asked her what authors she
"Oh, I don't rememlier the authors so much
as I do the books," said she, "I am a great
reader. If I should tell you how much I
have read, you wouldn't believe it."
I said I certainly would. I had frequently
been called upon to believe things that
would make the ordinary rooster quail.
If she discovered the true inwardness of
this Anglo-American "Jewdesprit," she re
frained from saying anything about it.
"I read a good deal," she continued, "and
it keeps me all strung up. I weep, oh, so
easily." Just then she lightly laid her hand
""I weep, oh, so easily ."
""I weep, oh, so easily ."
on my arm and I could see that the tears
wire rising to her eyes. I felt like asking
her if she had ever tried running herself
through a clothes wringer every morning I
I did feel that some one ought to chirk her
up, so I asked her if she remembered the ad
vice of the editor who received a letter from
a young lady troubled the same way. She
stated that she couldn't explain it, but every
little while, without any apparent cause, she
would shed tears, and the editor asked her
why she didn't lock up the shed.
We conversed for a long time about litera
ture, but every little while sbe would get me
into deep water by quoting some author or
work that I had never read. I never realized
what a hopeless ignoramus I was till I heard
about the scores of books that had made
her shed the scalding, and yet that I had
never, never read. When she looked at me
with that far-aw ay expression in her eyes, and
with her hand resting lightly on my arm, in
such a way as to give the gorgeous two-karat
Rhinestone, from Pittsburg, full play, and
told me how such works as "The New-Made
Grave; or, the Twin Murderers," had cost her
many and many a copious tear, I told her I
was glad of it. If it be a blessed boon for the
student of such books to weep at home and
work up their honest perspiration into scald
ing tears, far bç it from me to grudge that
I hope that all who may read these lines,
and w ho may feel that the pores of their skin
are getting torpid and sluggish, owing to an
inherited antipathy tow ard physical exertion,
and who feel that they would rather work up
their perspiration into woe and shed it iu the
shape of common red-eyed weep, will keep
themselves to this poor boon. People have
different ways of enjoying themselves, and I
hope no one will hesitate about accepting this
or any other poor boon that I do not happen
to be using at the time. Bill Nye.
A Deal In Apaclie Scalps.
[Wall Street News ]
Whib a New York furrier was in Omaha
the other day he was sought out by a stranger
with a proposition for a trade. Said he,
"Several counties in Arizona are offering
from §50 to §100 each for Indian scalps. I'll
pay you §20 apiece for from 100 to 5UU. I've
got a genuine scalp here, and all you have to
do to imitate it is to scrape a calfskin, cut it
into suitable pieces, and pull a top-knot
through each one of them. One horse's tail
will make twenty-two Apache top-knots, and
a calfskin w ill cut seventy-five scalps. Ehl
Do you tumble ?' As there has been no sud
den increase in the demand for calfskins and
horsetails in this locality, it is probable the
furrier declined the contract.
THE PETROLEUM INDUSTRY.
Tile Transformation That lias Taken
1'larc in This Fickle Business.
[SjM-i-Ial Correspondence, j
Pittsburg, Dec. JO.—The time has not
quite arrived to write the rise and fall of the
petroleum iudu-try, though in the estimation
of the longest heads out fcis way it has seen
its best (iays and already begun to decline.
There are many causes for it, the most po
tent probably being the utilization of nat
ural gas. The ad
vent of the ele ctric
light it was expect
ed would injure the
kerosene trade, but
instead of which it
has developed it.
The contrast lie
twe en the two
lights has resulted
in an endeavor to
increase the power
of the weaker one,
which can only' be ^ fl I I //
done by increasing f |, L //
the amount of oil col. e. l drake.
consumed. The improvements in the utiliza
tion of natural gas are <-o many and so rap
idly overtaking one another that it w-ill not
be a great while before it rivals the liest
artificial gas in its illuminating quality, while
as a fuel it already cannot be excelled. In
producing light a better result can be ob
tained even now by generating steam power
and turning the latter into electric lights
than by burning the product of refined petro
When the history of petroleum comes to
be written, were it faithfully recorded, it
would be appaling in ©he wretchedness it has
produced. This dark side will likely be never
told, but to those who have watched the
whirl of the oil craze for the last quarter of
a century it is a question whether it has
not been a curse instead of a blessing to
those engaged in it
The avarice and envy, together with the
gambling spirit which it infused into every
one even in the slightest degree connected
with it, has resulted only in misery and pov
erty in the end. Of course this is a misan
thropic view of it, but it is shared by the
majority of the people in this section that
have "followed oil "
We need nc better exemplar of this fact
than the history of "Colonel ' E. L Drake,
the borer of the first oil well. He was a
bright, brainy fellow, who, had he contin
ued at railroading or even in the dry goods
business, in wh eh he had been engaged prior
to his venture in the direction of oil, would
have made his mark and retired wealthy.
He was a man of more than average business
capacity; he struck what was consid
ered one of the "bonanzas" of modern times.
The speculative craze seized him aad he died
THE OLD DRAKE WELL.
The story of Drake s first well has been
often told, and is recalled now through the
efforts being made to erect a monument to
Drake. It is but t#quarter of a century ago
since petroleum was sold at twenty-five cents
a bottle under the name of "Seneca Oil" or
"American Oil." To-day it is dear at a dol
lar a barrel. Its value at that time lay in its
remedial use as a cure for sprains, rheuma
tism, beside the mange and various horse
troubles. It oozed through the ground
and was collected in pits or drains dug to
receive it or was skimmed in the form of
scum from the surface of the water. A
spring of it was found, from which Oil creek
obtained its namS: A company was formed
in 1854, under the name of the Rock Oil com
pany, to gather this oil and endeavor to re
fine it and compete with the coal oil, which
had then become an important industry.
The company did not prosper, and the prop
erty fell into the hands of a New Haven con
cern, the Seneca Oil company, which sent CoL
Drake, an old railroad conductor, out to ex
amine the property and report. This was in
1857. In 1858 he conceived the idea of bor
ing an artesian well, and on Aug. 28, 1859,
after boring sixty-nine and a half feet, part
of the distance through rock, he struck sand
that he found contained oiL During the
progre-v- of the boring he was troubled with
THE PITTSBURG OIL EXCHANGE.
■RADFORD OIL EXCHANGE.
The rise and fall of Pithole City illustrate*
this point. In January, 1865, oil was first
struck there, which promised an unprece
dented yield. In a few months a city of
20,900 people were gathered there, fairly
crawling over one another in the icramble
for wealth. With these jieople came banks,
hotels, churches, school houses and the
inevitable saloons. During the fall of that
year its jiost office did the l argest business of
any in Pennsj vauia outside of Philadelphia
and Pittsburg. Within one year its riches
showed signs of giving out and its popula
tion began to flee. In two years it was a
deserted settlement and to-day odc cfii
scarce find a building of any kjnd to mark
The accompanying map shows at a glance
the lines of pipes through which oil is
pumped through from the wells to the ship
ping points at New Y r ork, Philadelphia,
Baltimore, Buffalo and Cleveland. These
pipes are owned by the United Pipe lines, a
corporation controlled by the National
Transit company, a corporation that under
takes the storage and transportation of oil.
This method of transporting oil in bulk is
carried to this extent that in many of the
principal cities connected with the oil region
by pipe lines the fluid is retailed to the con
sumer without ever having been held in a
barrel. In New York city and neighbor
hood it is a common thing to see immense
iron tanks containing kerosene drawn
through the streets from which the con
sumer buys the oil This tank has been
filled at the refinery, the crude petroleum be
ing received there through pipe; direct from
the wells. This plan is about to be carried
out in Liverpool and other foreign seaports.
Ocean steamers are being fitted up with im
mense oil tanks, into which the refined oil is
pumped and e aptied into tanks on the other
water filling the vie l; this he overcame by
lining tha sides with au iron tuba inside of
which the drill worked. This well of Drake's
starte! flowing with oil at the rate ot e 1 '»'"»
orten barrels a day, and by introducing a
pump it* produciiou was increased to fifty
barrais, worth on an average §21 per barrel.
Then began the oil excitement, which
most of us remember.- No mining craze
ever compar d with tae ft ry wit i hieh it
took hold ol its victims. .\ny one coiild se«
:hat a welt that gushed forth its wealth at
the rate of §l,0t)i) per day was like a foun
tain iu fairyland. Men's heads became
turned and the process of twisting them
around from the normal has continued ever
;inee. Property that heretofore hail been
told in tracts of one hundred acres was now
told by the square foot. Again a trans
'oruiatiou has taken place, aad thin same
property is in the market "for a song "
The extent of the trailing done in this city
may be judged from the appearance of the
principal building in which the business is
transacted. There are very handsome build
ings elsewhere throughout the oil region in
which the business of buying and selling oil
is carried on. The most notable of those are
at Bradford, Titusville and O.l City. The
New York Consolidated Stock and Petroleum
Bxehange has not as yet erected a building for
its own use, though it hns done a business
this year of ai out 6,000,(XX),000 barrels. There
are so many cities in this region that lave
gone up anil down like the proverbial rocket
and stick that it is considered risky business
to invest overmuch confidence in it. as a
reliable busiue«, hence the hesitancy with
which buildings davoted to the lu -iness were
pumped and e aptied into tanks on the other
side of the ocean. From them pipe lines
may be constructed to carry it across the
country, thus bringing the labor used in the
handling of this product down to the mini
MAP OF PIPE LINE«.
This is one reason why the oil businesgtnay
be sai l to have reached its highest develop
mène as an important industry. The ten
dency from this time forward will be to
employ less an 1 less labor. And this fact
has received further impetus by the applica
tion of natural gas to the furnaces in the oil
region, 'ibis does away w th tha handling
of coal and ashes, so that to all the boilers
fitted in this way it is only necessary to add
the control of another valve to the duties of
Thus has the old glorv* d/parte l from the
oil li -Ids. Where once it was al! bustle and
smoke, an l great communiti- s of laborers, it
has b-come quiet and almost deserted, while
the oil keeps flowing on in a larger stream
than ever. . A. J. Bothwf.ll.
How to Borrow Without Losing Reputa
[New York Tribune.]
An old editor of Harper's told me once
that just after he came to New Y'ork he got
so hard up that he needed a hundred dollars
very badly. He did not dare ask Fletcher
Harper, who was a great friend of his. for so
small an amount as a hundred dollars,
through fear he might be looked on as a
petty Is grower and sort of dead beat. Bo he
walked in on his friend and said: "Fletch,
I want §500. Can you let me have it!" The
response was, "Certainly." He got the
moue}', put s4;a) of it in the bank and when
he scraped together the hundred he spent,
he paid it ail back. Years afterward he
asked Harper what the latter would have
done if he had asked for the hundred dollars.
Fletcher said he should probably have let him
have it, but should have kept out of his way
thereafter. "I thought so," said Seaver and
then he told Harper what he had done."
"BEVARE OF THE VIDDERS."
An Over-Con fill I tig ONI Reim is $ham*>
[New York Sun.]
Oxcoose me if 1 shed some tears,
Und wipe my nose away;
Und if a lump vos in my treat,
It comes ut) dere to shtay.
My sadness I shall now unfoliit,
Und if dot tale of woe
Don'd do some Dutchmans any good
Den I ilou'd pelief I know.
YV>u see I fall my
self in love,
Und effery night
Across to Brooklyn
by dot bridge,
All dressed i n
Sun * ay clothes.
A vidder womans
vos tier brizf
Her husband he(
vos dead ;
Und all alone in dis 3
Dot vidder vos. —— » i u u —^
sho saidt. ''Dee Prize."
Her heart for love vos on der pine,
Und dot I like to see;
Und all der time I hoped dot heart
Vos on der pine for me.
I keeps a butcher shop, you know,
Und in a shtocking stout,
I put avay my gold und bills,
Und no one gets him oudt.
If in der night some bank cashier
Goes skipping off mit cash,
I shleep so soundt as nefer vas,
Vhile rich folks go to shmash.
I oourt dot vidder sixteen month».
Dot vidder she courts me,
Und vhen I says: "Vill you be minef
She says: "You bet I'll be!"
"Vill be minef'
Ve vos engaged—oh! blessed fact!
I squeeze dot dimpled hand;
Her head upon my shoulder lays,
IS bust like a bag of sand.
"Before der wedding day vos set,"
•.UT SheJwhispeVs in my ear,
_ "I like to say I haf to use
Some cash, my Jacob, dear
"I owns dis house und two big famns,
Und ponds und railroad shtoek;
Und up in Yonkers I bossess
A grand, big peesness block
"Der times vos dull, my butcher boy,
Der market vos no good,
Und if 1 sell"—I squeezed her hant
To show I understood.
Next day—oxcoo e my briny tears—
took a shrink ;
I counted out 1,200
Der cleanest kind
Und later, by two
days or more,
Und leaves a note
behindt for me
In which dot vid
der say :
Ojccoose mu tears.
"Der rose vos redt,
Der violet blue—
Yon see I've left,
UnJ you're left, too!"
Presence of Mi nil in Difficulty.
"So Vanderbilt is dead," said the freight
brakeman. "I saw Billy once, and at that
time I wished I hadn't. It was when I was
a brakeman on the Central. One day we
were shifting cars at a little station near
Syracuse, w hen a special car, with locomo
tive attached, came in and stood on the main
track near where we were at work.
Special cars were not uncommon, and
we didn't pay much attention to this one.
Pretty soon I was making a coupling, but
the infernal link wouldn't tit. 1 tried it two
or three times, and the engineer got out of
patience backing up for me so many times,
and I begun to get mad myself. Then I
gave it another trial, but still it wouldn't
work, and then I took that link and gave it
a sling into the creek, and swore in the bar
gain. In about ten seconds I heard some
one calling me, and, looking up, saw a
piug-hatted, side-whiskered mail standing
on the platform of the special car. I knew
him as soon as I laid eyes on him—it was
Billy Van lerbilt. '§ee hero, young man,'
says he, 'I've been watching you. Do you
know whose property you have been throw
ing into the creek?' 'Yes, sir,' says I,
trembling ,.'-ii expecting to be bounced the
next minute. 'Well, whose was it;' 'The
Pennsylvania railroad's, sir,' says I. 'Oh,'
replied Vanderbilt, an l then he went into
his car and shut the door. I wasn t bounced,
A good old deacon iu central Illinois, who
lost all his big drove of swine by hog chol
era, took the matter so lightly that his wife
felt called upon to reproach hi.n. "Dea
con," said she, "i should think you would be
ashamed of yourself. It loots to me as
though it was a judgment sent on you by the
Lord." "My dear," said the good old man,
"if the Lord wants to take out his judgment
in three-cent pork, into which I oulil have
to be pouring good thirty-cent Corn if they
lived, let us not grumble."
Jones—Smith, you are the k.zitst man I
Jones—They say you deep fifteen hours
out of every twenty-four.
Jones—What do you do it for?
Smith—In order to economize. You see
it costs nothing to sleep, hut the moment you
wake ud expenses beeiu.
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