OCR Interpretation


Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, February 09, 1888, Image 1

Image and text provided by Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84036143/1888-02-09/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

• • • I » •
H
mrmM
»AWO
Volume XX2.
Helena, Montana, Thursday, February 9, 1888.
No.
11
gVlMü ^(jcralil.
R. E. FISK 0. W. FISK. ». J. FISK
Publishers and, Proprietors.
Largest Circulation of any Paperin Montana
Rates of Subscription.
WEEK LY °HEKA LD :
Oue Year, (in advance) .............................83 00
Six Months, (In advance)............................... 1 75
Three Months, (in advance)........................... 1 00
When not paid for in advance the rate will be
Four Dollars per yeaii
Postage, in all cases, Prepalo.
DAILY HERALD:
City Si. hscribers.delivered by carrier 81.00a month
One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. 89 00
Six Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 5 00
Three Months, by mail, (in advance)........... 2 50
If not paid in advance, 812 per annum.
Entered at the Postoffice at Helena as second
class matter.]
*^*AII communications should be addressed to
FISK BROS., Publisher!»,
Helena, Montana.
THE TEACHER'S VISIONS.
And then she lifted up her face,
But started back aghast ;
The room, by strange and sudden change,
A'■sumcd proporiions vast.
It seemed a Senate hall, and one
Addressed a listening throng;
Each burning word all bosoms stirred.
Applause rose loud and long.
The wild*red teacher thought she knew
The sjieaker's voice and look.
"And for his name," she said, "the same
Is in my record book."
The stately Senate hall dissolved,
The church rose in its place.
Wherein there stood a man of God,
Dispensing words of grace.
And thought he spoke in solem tones,
And though his hair was gray.
The teacher's thought was strangely wrought ;
"I whipped that boy to-day."
The church, a phantasm, vanished soon ;
What saw the teacher then ?
In c.assic glooms and alcoved rooms
An author plied his pen.
"My idlest lad," the teacher said.
Filled with a new surprise;
"Shall I behold his name enrolled
Among the great and wise?"
The vision of the cottage home
The teacher now described ;
A mother s face illumed the place
Her influence sanctified.
"A miracle ! a miracle !
This matron well I know
\\ us but a wild and careless child
Not half an hour ago.
"Ami now she to her children speaks
Of duty's golden rule.
Her lips "repeat in accents sweet.
My words to her at school."
INDIRECTION.
Gay is the laugh of a girl.
But the girl who is laughing is gayer ;
Grand is the musical strain,
But grander the soul of the player.
What is the tone of the harp
But the breathing fortli of the spirit.
Which the harper has in himself,
To the spirits around him that hear it?
What is the painting so fine
But the thought of the artist, tiiat rushes
Over the canvas in oil
OB the deft points of his brushes?
Just as the pastry so fine
Speaks of the skill of the baker.
So each invention of man
Points to the mind of its maker.
If there is brain in a man
All his expressions will show it.
Heading the lines from his pen,
Judge of the power of a poet.
Sweet is the form of the fuchsia,
Sweeter the breath of the roses.
But sweeter than all is the secret
That in their growing reposes.
There Is no beauty in heaven.
Or in the wide world about us,
Senses of beauty within
Cause all the beauty without us.
Great are the wonders around us,
But mysteries in us are greater;
And ail the endowments of man
Mirror his mighty Creator.
THE KING'S DAUGHTERS.
The
king's three little daughters, 'neath the
palace windows straying.
Had fallen into earnest talk that put an end to
playing.
And the weary king smiled once again to hear
what they were saying.
"It is I who love our father liest."' the eldest
daughter said ;
"I am the oldest princess !" and her pretty face
grew red ;
"What is there none can do without? I love
him more than bread
Then-a d the second princess, with lier blight
blue eyes ailame,
'Than bread ? A common thing like bread !
Thou hast not any shame !
Glad am I it isl, not thou, called by our mother's
name.
"I love him with a better love than one so tame
as thine—
More than—oh, what then shall I say that is
bot h bright and fine.
And is not common? Yes, I know—I love
him more than wine !"
Then the little youngest daughter, whose speech
would sometimes halt
F<»r her dreamy way of thinkiug, said, "You
are liotii in fault,
Tis I who love our father best—I love him more
than salt."
Shrill little shrieks of laughter greeted lier
latest word,
A * the two joined hands, exclaiming, "But this
is most absurd !"
And the king, no longer smiling, was grieved
that he was heard.
For the little youngest daughter, with her eyes
of steadfast gray,
Could always move his tenderness and charm
his care away.
"She grows more like her mother dead," he
whispered, "day by day."
* But she Is very little, and I will find no fault
That, ulule her sisters strive to see who most
shall me exalt.
She holds me nothing dearer than a common
tiling like salt."
The portly cook was standing in the courtyard
by tlie spring ;
He winked ami nodded to himself, "That little
<iuiet thing
Knows more than both the others, as I will show
the king." •
That afternoon for dinner there was nothing fit
to eat ;
The king turned, frowning angrily, from soup,
and fish and meat.
And he found a cloying sweetness in dishes that
were sweet.
"And yet," lie muttered, musing, "I cannot find
the fault.
Not a tiling has tasted like itself but this honest
cup of malt."
Said the vaungest princess, shyly, "Dear father,
they waut salt."
A sudden look of tenderness shone on the king's
dark face.
As he sat his little daughter in the doad queen's
vacant place ;
And he thought, "She has her mother's heart—
ave, and lier mother's grace.
"Great love through smallest channels will find
it- jurest way ;
It waits not state occasions, which n>ay not
come, or May ;
It comforts and it blesses, hour by hour and day
by day."
of
of
not
a
his
set
an
of
the
pet,
a
of
self
of
the
it
had
tion
have
me
as
seen,
not
is
and
are
send
the
first
the
poet:
these
and
head
tend
to
of
thaï
with
and
like
this
haps
case.
has
cided
more
guest,
true
the
best
the
or
tell
make
to
same
New
WHAT IT'S COMING TO.
Bill Nye (lives Directions About Sending
Regrets,
FOUND myself in
II
receipt of the fol
lowing letter not
long ago;
New York, I
«7. f
L 5
Dec. 29, lbb"
Bill Nye, Esq.
Deau Sir—T he club
formed for the pur
pose of giving
Christmas tree to its
_ fellow boarders in a
large private board
ing house request the
pleasure of your
presence at the same
on Dec. 31. 5Ve do not expect you to be present
in fact, we would rather have a letter of regret
from you. If you would so favor us it would not
be published, but simply be read on the evening
with other communications of a like nature, etc.,
etc.
As there is no stamp inclosed in reply to
the above letter, I have decided to reply
briflv through the columns of the press.
The idea of soliciting a letter of regret is
original with the writer of the above, whose
name is kindly suppressed. This reply will
come a little late for the 1SS7 Christinas, but
it may be retained for that of 1888.
As one who has gladdened many a social
gathering by a well worded letter of regret,
I desire to state that I hail with joy this new
and ingenuous method of saying distinctly in
a letter of invitation whether one's regrets
would be preferable to his company. This
custom will finally revolutionize society, and
letters of invitation will some day state dis
tinctly whether the guest will afford the
greatest delight to his host by accepting or
declining the invitation. It will be a big
thing. Eminent men, like Dr. Mary Walker
anil the writer of these lines, will then have
more regrets than they know what to do
with.
It will also simplify the matter of enter
tainment itself ami render it purely a cleri
cal matter. With a good typewriter a man
of moderate means could issue invitations
enough in one forenoon to yield a column
and a half of regrets.
He could then, on the evening of the
banquet, congregate himself around a light
collation of mush und milk, write up an ac
count of the debauch and send it in to the
morning pajiers, accompanied by the letters
of regret, and it would read well and cost
very little. Invitations might read as fol
lows:
Mr.-requests the pleasure of a letter from
you declining aud regretting your inability to he
present at his Christmas tree. The letter should
not contain over 500 words and must be written
only on one side of the paper.
R. S. V. P. E. O. D. T. F.
R. S. V. P. E. O. D. T. F.
Replies should be in tne handwriting of the
person invited, and should not only contain a
large blue mass of regrets, but branch off in
a way that would really jerk out the stinger
which a letter of regrets generally contains.
For instance, a letter from the president
should contain, beside the pang expressed in
his regret, a fragment of his message and a
lock of his hair. A letter of regret from Mr.
Whittier should contain an autograph poem.
Ditto all poets. Statesmen declining one of
these conditional invitations would be ex
pected to embody portions of forthcoming
speeches in their letters of regret. Artists
would be expected to jerk a pen and ink sun
set in the corner of their reply, suitable for
an album, and musicians could insert a bar
of a favorite opera.
This method of swapping stationery for au
tograph regrets would soon, if properly
handled, yield more than a silver wedding
aud t nfinitely more versatile. It prevents
the wL desale tramping of cake into the car
pet, because you need not have cake and you
need not have any one to tramp it into the
carpet. No cards, no cake, no carpet, no
company.
The time is approaching when a man with
a lock box at the i»ostoffice, sixty cents' worth
of stationery and the utmost confidence in him
self can produce for publication an account
of the orgies at his house, which would make
the reading public extremely angry because
it was not present.
All of the foregoing, except the letter of
invitation, is written in a tone of banter and
raillery. The letter is genuine, and was
written by a young man of this city. If he
had said that my letter declining his invita
tion would tie published, very likely I would
have replied by mail, but he has maddened
me by asking for a confidential autograph
letter of regrets whioji would not get into
print. Another form of invitation may read
as follows:
Compliments of Mr. and Mrs. Borntoblush Un
seen, who would be tickled almost to death on re
ceiving word that Mr. William Contiguously can
not be present at their Christmas tree. The tree
is given largely for the purj>ose of making the
•people who live opposite hate themselves to death,
and letters of hitter regret aud disappointment
are expected from many noted people. Please
send in "copy" by 9 o'clock. The transom over
the door will be left open as late as 10:30 for the
reception of Christmas gifts.
Letters of regret may be coucned in choice
language, expressing poignant grief in the
first line or two and then branch out in the
direction of grief, pathos, humor, patriotism,
poetry, politics or trade. The following is
the style which would be in best taste for a
poet:
My Dear Mr. and Mrs. Thj ifty—As I write
these words tears well up to my surcharged orbs,
and if Bunny were here I would like to lean my
head in her lap and have a good cry. I cannot at
tend your beautiful Christmas tree, as I shall have
to remaiu at home up to a late hour writing letters
of regret to people who will be bitterly disap
pointed unless they receive them.
Hoping that you will have a good time and see
thaï this letter of regret goes into the paper
straight, I remain, yours truly, etc.
This custom will make every host his own
historian, reporter and social biographer, and
with a purple imagination, a fountain pen
and a messenger boy, a man may entertain
like a prince.
But a sad thought comes to me as I close
this column of bright anticipations. Per
haps an exception has been made in my <fwn
case. It nia} - be that the custom is not to
become general, but that in my case the host
has seen me at some other gathering and de
cided that I would do better and shine with
more effulgence as a regretter than as a
guest, and so, with that prompt and ready
discernment which should characterize the
true host, he has assigned to me that part on
the programme which he thought nature had
best fit teil me for!
And so, while fair women and brave men
beneath the ruddy light sway to anti fro to
the voluptuous measures of a Strauss waltz,
or happy voices burst forth in song and eyes
tell of love to other eyes which in return
make a similar remark, I shall be permitted
to fill the air and the postoffice with my vain
regr*s! Hah! Oh harrowing thought ! It
cannot, must not bel Once more I make the
same statement, viz., "Hah! Bill Nye in
New York World.
a
THE YOUNG FOLKS.
Grandmas Usually Sympathize with ChR
dreu la Trouble.
A little boy was sent to the grocer's for a
pail of molasses. Returning he fell and
spilled it in the sand. As be wept profusely
over the appaSing catastrophe, a little friend
chanced to come along and asked him what
he was crying for. He replied: "I have spilt
the 'lasses, anti I am afraid to go home and
tell my mamma. She will whip me." To
which his little would be comforter answered
in solemn tones, "Haven't you got a grand
ma ?"—Boston Globe.
A Theological Infant.
Grace M. is 8 years old. When 5 years old
she was in the country visiting her grand
parents. There she had as a playmate
Georgie, the son of a Methodist clergyman,
of like tender years. While at play they
were frequently annoyed by a little urchin
whose society was neither congenial nor de
sirable. On one occasion Gracie became
sorely disgusted with the little intruder, and,
throwing up her hands, exclaimed:
"Well, there, I do wish Pat Fallon was in
the bad placé" •
"Oh, no," remonstrated the precocious son
of the parson, "you wish the Lord would take
him."—Boston Globe.
Didn't Want to Hear.
Little Walter is a very active boy, and
takes no account of his steps when playing
and amusing himself, but a call in the midst
of fun to do some trifling errand for any
member of the family produces an immediate
change of pace as well as face. One morn
ing bis mother, having twice sent him down
stairs with messages to the servants, made a
third demand for his services a few mo
ments later, which so annoyed him that he
angrily exclaimed: "I wish I had doors on
my ears, so I couldn't hear you."—Harper's
Magazine.
Offering a Substitute.
One day Ernest had been seriously lect
ured by his mother, and finally sent to the
yard to find a switch with which he was to
be punished. He returned soon, and said:
I couldn't find any switch, mamma; but
here's a stone you can throw at me."—Harp
er's Magazine.
Itch and Scratch.
Little Bessie—Papa, I do hate to hear your
pea scratch.
Papa—It's the paper, my dear.
Bessie—Well, papa, can't you get some
paper that doesn't itch so bad.—Burlington
Free Press.
Tale of the Blizzard.
"Ever since the blizzard ceased," says a
Minnesota paper, "work has been going for
ward on excavations for the purpose of dis
covering the postoffice building. A shaft is
being sunk through the snow which it is
hoped will strike it, but if it should not those
in charge will drift north and south till it is
located. Grave fears arc entertained that
the postmaster may have become despondent,
as he has not been heard to holler since early
in the storm. He must certainly be quite
lonesome, at least, as his only companion
was the office cat and he very likely has been
forced to use her for fuel before this time, as
the lock boxes and registered letters must be
exhausted ere now. Parties who live out on
Eden prairie report that they had no diffi
culty in finding their way heme during the
storm as they kept hold of the telegraph wire.
Were it not for the extreme dryness of our
Minnesota air the friends of the postmaster
would be very uneasy lest when he is re
covered he should be found frozen as stiff as
a railroad tie."—Chicago Tribune.
Watched Over with Care.
7T.
• qm
if
D.
V -V«
as
r.td
Mamma (to nurse)—What is all that noise
in the nursery, Marie?
Nurse—Ze leetle dog, madame, has taken
Mees Flossie's candy.
Mamma—Well, take it from him at once,
Marie, and give it back to Miss Flossie. Poor
little Fido, he mustn't eat so much candy; it
might make him sick.—The Epoch.
Everything Went.
"Did you make enough money on your
stock deal, John, to buy the sort of carriage
you promised? I suppose you did, though."
she added confidently; "you said you put in
your money at the bottom of the market."
"So I did, my dear, so I did; but the bot
tom itself dropped out."—Chicago Mail.
Safe Traveling Assured.
Eastern Railway Manager—What's the
price of coal now?
Assistant—Nine dollars a ton.
"Humph! Send word to the passenger
brakemen to use coal very cautiously. We
don't want any more car stove horrors."—
Omaha World.
How It Happened at Last.
"Have you heard that Lily is engaged to
young Fledgely?" asked Maud.
"No," replied Ella. "I thought he was too
bashful ever to propose."
"Oh, but it's leap year, you know."—New
York Evening Sun.
Reason In All Things.
Gentleman (to Uncle Rastus)—Why, Uncle
Rastus, you never charged me thirty-five
cents before for carrying in a ton of coal.
Uncle Rastus—Dat's case de price hab riz,
Mistah Smif. Yo' kain't expec' to git seven
dollah coal carried in at de ole rates, sah.—
The EpoHi.
Likely.
The infant king of Spain has received a
present of 10,000 cigars from a tobacco planter
of Havana. As the cigars presented to a
person are about 75 per cent, meaner than
those he buys for his own use, it is probable
that the ro\al babe will continue to smoke
cigars of his own purchasing and give away
to his friends those presented to him.—Nor
ristown Herald.
to
a
BITS OF HUMAN NATURE.
How Oglesby Was Fooled on Grant's
Appearance.
When Grant was appointed brigadier gen
eral and ordered to Cairo to take command,
Col. Oglesby was acting in that capacity.
The latter had received notice of the appoint
ment from the war department, and was ad
vised that the new general was on his way
south. *
A day or so after the colonel was seated at
his desk busily writing. In the room were
several officers chatting together in subdued
tones. The chief of the staff entered and
announced the arrival of Grant. The colonel
nodded and went on writing; evidently he
had not understood the officer.
Presently a man dressed in a plain soldier's
blouse, slouch hat and nondescript trousers
sauntered in, remarkable for nothing unless
it was for a generous quantity of dust on his
clothes, a stubby, reddish beard, a keen gray
eye, and a half consumed cigar clenched be
tween his teeth.
Taking a survey of the apartment and its
occupants he approached the colonel and
said in a quiet voice:
"Will you let me have a sheet of paper?"
"Help yourself, my man," responded the
colonel in a surprised and somewhat indig
nant tone, as his pen scratched on uninter
ruptedly; "you'll find one over there on the
far side of the table."
The stranger seated himself uninvited,
and, (rawing the paper toward him, wrote a
few words, knocked the ash from his cigar
and coolly passed the scrawl over to the
colonel.
The surprise and indignation on Oglesby's
face deepened, but finally gave way to aston
ishment when he had mastered the words.
They proved to be an order relieving him
from his present duty and ordering him to
join his regiment pver the river. It was
dated, "Headquarters, Cairo," and signed,
U. S. Grant, brigadier general, command
ing, etc."
CoL Oglesby rose and walked around the
insignificant figure across the table, never re
moving his eyes from it, and finally burst
forth with:
"Well, are you Grant? Why, I thought
you were some one's orderly and was near
ordering you out a moment ago." Then,
turning: "Gentlemen, our chief, Brig. Gen.
Grant."—Chicago Inter Ocean.
A Story of Mrs. Secretary Fish.
Mrs. Fish, as wife of the secretary of state,
was one of the leaders in society here. She
was aristocratic by nature and education,
but she made it a sacred duty to return every
call that was paid her, every card in her
basket, that had a name and number on it,
was honored in its turn. One day her fine
coachman had a great difficulty in discover
ing a certain address given to him by Mrs.
Fish. They drove up one street and down
another, then they wandered to the outskirts
of the city and back again; finally, in a nar
row side street, in Iront of a dingy little
shop which had dwellings over it, the car
riage stopped. Mrs. Fish bravely got out.
It was the street and number of her card.
Washington expects people to do their duty;
the lady of the house was at her wash tub in
a back room. But they say that Mrs. Fish
made a friend of her. As she followed her
visitor to the door the woman said: "I
wanted to see you, Mrs. Fish, but I hadn't
ought to have left that card."—Washington
Letter.
An Aggravated Case.
Here is a good story about Mayor Brack
which may be true and may not. But it is
good enough to repeat: and may be a warn
ing to other unfortunates who try the same
dodge. The charge upon which this particular
unfortunate was arraigned before hi* honor
ono gloomy afternoon was "drunk aud dis
orderly."
One dollar and costs," said the mayor,
after hearing both statements of the case.
"But say, your honor," whispered the un
fortunate, becoming confidential and raising
himself upon tip toes to drop the words softly
in the mayor's ears, "say, I voted for you last
spring."
"You didT'
"Indeed, I did sir," replied the man, hope
fully.
"That makes the esse worse. Mr. Secre
tary, mako that flue £2 und costs."—Colum
bus Dispatch, - 'Jt ZJz*. ■
Vj -—- -
as
to
to
ing
Vj te -.- f . - -—- - -
Where Cameron Began.
Ex-Senator Henry G. Davis, of West Vir
ginia, makes frequent trips to the capitaL
I saw him the other day on the floor of ttè
senate chamber. He was evidently in the
best of spirits and was the center of an in
terested group of listeners. After he had
gone I was told of a dinner party given in
New York in 1882. Davis sat at one end of
the table, Simon Cameron sat gt the otherj
and between them was Gten. Sherman 1 . The
latter began a reminiscence of his early life
by saying:
" When I was a lieutenant"—
"Come, now, Sherman," interrupted Davis,
"were you ever a lieutenant?"
"Yes, Davis," he replied, "I was a lieuten
ant about the time you were a brakeman on
a freight train."
"Well, boys," observed Cameron, "I don't
suppose either of you ever cut cordwood for
a living, as I did."—New York Tribune.
Prayer* First.
I noticed Speaker pro tem S. S. Cox rap
the house to order the other day with more
than ordinary vigor. And yet his face More
an abstracted look. Sure enough, as soon as
he had laid down his gavel, he said:
"The clerk will proceed to read the journal
of'
Then suddenly checking himself:
"Oh, I forgot; prayers are first in order."
—New York Tribune.
Changes in St. Bonis.
St. Louis Man—Yes, sir; we are making
great changes in the St. Igouis school system.
Nearly 100 teachers of the German language
have been dismissed, and
Omaha Man—I see, I see. Going to substi
tute English. Good idea. It will be a great
thing for St. Louis when strangers are able
to transact business there without an inter
preter—Omaha World.
Has Never Failed.
Prince Ferdinand (gloomily)—By my hali
dbm, I'm losing my prestige.
"I believe it, my liege. There is but one
thing you can do to recover your lost
ground."
"What's that?"
"Strike up an acquaintance with an
American prize fighter."—Nebraska State
Journal.
A Parting Injunction.
Traveling Salesman (to employer)—Well,
I'm off, Mr. Smith. Good-by 1
Employer—Good-by and a successful trip.
And remember, Mr. Bloward, that order is
heaven's first law.—New York Sun.
STORIES OF MEN.
Ed
The Boy Knew Him and Senator
niunds Knew Him.
A young man applied to Senator Edmunds
for some money to enable him to get back to
his home in Vermont. Being unknown to
Mr. Edmunds, the senator addressed him as
follows:
"How do I know that you live in Vermont?
You might come from Texas, for all I
know."
"I can only assure you that I speak the
truth, senator. I have no way of proving it.
My home is in the village of-".
"Oh, it is, is it?" said the senator, grimly.
"TV ell, I've visited in that place a number of
times. I suppose you know everybody there,
don't you?"
The boy replied that the people he didn't
know were not worth knowing.
"V ell, then," said the senator, "tell me
the name of the fat old man who peddles
milk about town?"
"He isn t fat and he isn't old," answered
the youngster, doggedly. "His name is
'Skinny' Eccles."
The faintest sort of a smile lit up the Ver
mont senator's stern features. Turning to
his clerk, he said; "Give him the money.
There's no doubting the boy's honesty," and
then he added with a chuckle, as he turned
to re-enter the chamber. "'Skinny' Eccles;
well, well. I haven't thought of him before
in a dozen years."—Philadelphia Times.
Mr. Lamar's Absentniimledness.
I remember a joke told about Lamar when
he was in the senate. He has the reputation
of being given to writing and thinking up
poetry, and his appearance very often as he
walks along the avenue is very pensive and
absent minded. At one time when he was
living at Willard's he met a friend as he was
coming from the senate down by the National
hotel.
"Come up and have dinner with me," said
Lamar to the gentleman after they had shaken
hands.
The friend accepted the invitation and
started to walk up the street with Mr. Lamar.
He began the conversation and soon was in
terested in telling about some occurrence at
home, but Lamar had fallen into one of his
reflective moods, and was not listening to
anything the fi lend said. The space between
the National hotel and Willard's was passed
over, and, finally arriving on the jiavement
in front of the latter hotel, Lamar suddenly
pulled himself together, and, looking around,
he recollected that he had a friend with him.
He had not heard a word the gentleman hud
said, but, turniug to him, stretched out his
hand and said:
" Well, this is my hotel. I am very much
obliged to you for walking up the street with
me. Good-by," and turned to go in.
But the man was not so easily shaken. He
laughed and said:
"Beg pardon, senator; you invited me to
dinner, and I am not going to lose it."
"So I did, so I did," cried Lamar quickly,
and taking his friend by the arm he went in.
Washington Cor. Courier-Journal.
Crawling Out of a Small Hole.
"I am usually very good at remembering
names," said Senator Davis, of Minnesota,
"but I did get stuck once and under the most
emba-rassing circumstances. I was sitting
in my office at St. Paul, when in came a man
whom I was delighted to see and who was
delighted to see me. We had been raised as
boys together, had enlisted in the same com
pany and served through the war together,
he being the lieutenant of the company of
which I was captain. I knew him as well
as my own brother, and as we had not
met for many years I was glad to give him a
genuine hearty welcome, but for the life of
me I couldn't think of his name. He re
mained with me all the morning and I in
vited him to go to my house to stop. He
consented to do so, and as it approached din
ner time I commenced to grow very nervous
for, of course, I would have to introduce him
to my family, and I couldn't ask my old
chum and comrade what his name was.
Hnally I thought of a funny expedient.
Getting a pen and a sheet of paper I told
him I thought it would be a good idea for us
to join in a letter to another of our comrades
with w'hom we were both very intimate dur
ing the war. He approved the suggestion
and I wrote a couple of pages, telling our
friend how pleasant it was to meet again and
wishing that he was with us. Then I signed
my name and passed the paper over to him.
Much to my relief, he signed his full name
and I was saved from the impending mortifi
cation."—Philadelphia Times.
One of "Nat" Goodwin's Pranks.
"That reminds me of the night I was out
with Nat Goodwin," said the tall, board 0 ?
trade man. ''Thera's a fellow to make fun
for you. We were going down to Kinsley's,
and over on Dearborn street, where every
thing was quiet, we saw a young couple just
ahead of us—going home, probably, from
their after theatre supper.
" 'If that fellow had any grit in him,' said
Nat, 'I'll make him solid with that girl.'
"With this he took me by the arm, and we
hurried along and overtook the couple. In
passing them Nat gave the young chap a
push, and looking squarely at him, said:
" 'What are you going to do about it!'
"The young man spurred right up to Nat,
and was going to thrash him, when Nat
pulled me by the arm and we both turned
and ran.
" 'There,' said Nat, 'won't that make him
solid with his girl? She thinks he frightened
away a couple of big bullies who were just
going to eat them both up.' ''—Chicago Times.
Born So.
At the club the other night, when this in
cident was alluded to, John Oberly, the
civil service commissioner, told the 3 tory of
a man—Gen. Watkins I believe was the
name—who used to live down in southern
Illinois. When he was in court as a witness
one of the lawyers asked him his name.
"Gen. Watkins," was the reply.
"Were you in the late war?"
"No, sir."
"Were you in the Mexican war?"
"No, sir."
"Were you ever commander of militia?"
"No, sir."
"Did you ever hold a military appoint
ment?"
"No, sir."
"Then," asked the lawyer with a sneer,
"how did you get to be a general r"
"I was born so," was the reply.—New
York Tribune.
The New English Fli-et.
The new English fleet is to consist of twenty
five vessels built at a cost of over #66,000,000.
Four of these ships have been completed, two
of them being barbettes, one a turret ship
and one a protected cruiser. Four additional
vessels are to be finished this year and twelve
next year and the remaining five within fire
years.—New York Tribune.
I
THE SMALL BOY.
A Youngster Who Mixed Up Cards with
His Prayers.
A 4-year-old boy in this city was amusing
himself one recent evening by imitating his
father and mother, who wore playing eucher.
The cb'ld held a pack of cards and would lay
a card on the floor every time his mother
laid one on the table, and would say, "I
pass," etc. when she did. Beil time came,
and with it the usual child's prayer with the
common aiding, but this time the youngster
wound vp thus: "God bless papa, mamma
and baby —I pass—clubs trumps. Amen !"—
New York World.
A Far Sighted Boy.
A 4-year-old boy was taken to the window
a few mornings since and sho'en the bright
planet of the morning sky, which was shin
ing with remarkable brightness through an
exceptionally clear atmosphere. Hj was
told that it was Venus, and admire 1 it
greatly. At the breakfast table he related
the experience with great animation.
"I saw a big star," he said; "its name was
Peanuts, and it was pointed at both ends."
As the form of the planet is that of a sham
pointed crescent, it is evident that that boy's
eyes are much better to be trusted than his
ears.—Boston Transcript
The Soul of Candor.
A Sunday school teacher began his ques
tioning at the end of the old year with the
query: "Are you better than you were last
year?" A goo«j many of the little fellows
had replied "Yes, sir;" but a croupy boy on
the back seat had the courage of his convic
tions. "I hain't no better nor I ever wuz," he
said, "but," he added, by way of softening
the harsh statement, "I got 'e sorest froat of
anybody in this class—I—I—I—moft got
dipferia."—Youth's Companion.
A Reflection Upon the Teacher.
A little boy and his sister came home from
the closing exercises of one of the public
Bchools the other day. The certificates for
regular attendance and good conduct had
been distributed, and the girl was the proud
recipient of one of them, but her brother had
failed to qualify. "Didn't you get a certifi
cate, Tommy?" their mother asked. "Norn,"
was the reply, "but I would have got one if
there had been enough to go round."—To
ronto Globe.
The "Cake" We All Sigh For.
"Mamma," said little Willie, after return
ing from a dinner to which ho had been in
vited, "I alius kinder thought that cake was
just cake; but I see there's a difference in it.
Aunt Susan's cake i9 cake an' pic an' puddin'
an' peaches an' ice cream an' everything good
together, but yours is nothin' but cake."—
Elmira Tidings.
Harry's Definition.
I have a little boy, Harry, aged 4. Elec
tion day he asked me what papa was going
to vote for. I told birr for the mayor. His
sister asked me what the mayor was.
"Well," he said, "girls don't know noffin; it
is a girl hoss, of course."—Boston Globe.
1 A Tulk with a Bostonian.
-il
The curious effect it has.—Life.
A Bear Little Fellow.
Mrs. Hendricks (to husband)—Bobby asked
me last night if God sent the rain, and on my
telling him yes, said he supposed he must
poyr it down through the stara Dçar little
fellow.*" ' £ j i}' *
Mr. Hcndncks—^5$: Lobby is a nice lit
ÏTsftfVno the mischief filled my
shoe full of banana skins?
Mrs. Hendricks— öb, I suppose it was
Bobby.—New York Sun.
Another Fraud Exposed.
Waiter Girl—You better get your board in
advance from that man what says he's a
United States detective.
Landlady—He looks honest.
"He's no detective; he'd never suspect any
body of anything. He ate his mince pie
without once looking under the crust."—
Omaha World.
A Great Compliment.
Frank Hurd, ex-congressman from Ohio,
was in Chicago the other day. You know
lie is the silvery tongued on.tor of that state.
Oi e day while he was here he went into a
barber shop on Clark street, and took a seat
for a shave. Having gone through the oper
ation with no word from the barber, Hurd
turned to him and said: "Are you dumb?"
The barber said he was not. Mr. Hurd then
said that he had never before been shaved by
a barber who had l>een silent. The barber
replied : "I know you—you are Frank Hurd,
the congressman. I lay down my hand as a
talker to you. You can talk longer and bet
ter, when you get started, than any man I
ever saw in my life. I used to live in Ohio."
Mr. Hurd shook the man by the hand and
said he regarded w hat he had said as a great
compliment.—Chicago MoiL
is
Sleeping with Windows Open.
Here is vhat Professor T irchow savs anent
the sleeping with open windows: "The vi
tiated air c an only rush out when the temper
ature inside differs from that outside; it re
mains stationary when the air inside is al
ready of equal temperature with that outside.
In that case serious complications may be
the consequence, and many persons have
paid their mistaken notion with their life.
Moreover, a certain ventilation takes place
even with closed windows, namely, through
the walls, thick though they be, provided
they be otherwise well dried."—Paris Ameri
can Register.
Of the 181 churches in the city of Edin
ourgh, 134 are Presbyterian.
of
the
he
gins
A TRYING ORDEAL
HOW A COLLEGE
WITH THE
STUDENT SUPPED
PRESIDENT.
The Boys Rob tlie Henroost of One ol
the Faculty—A Nice Y'oung Man Caught
In a Trap—Before tlie Faculty—Tlie Re
finement of Torture.
In the early years of this century, when
log houses were good enough for the average
Georgian, a ertaiu doctor presided over
Franklin college.
The simple habits of their dignified sires
did not prevent the boys of those days from
having their fun—indeed, they carried on an
amount of devilment which the college boys
of these times would consider respectable.
The boys thought that anyt hing was fair
which would make one of the faculty the vic
tim of a joke, and on oue occasion they laid
a dark plot to rob the doctor's poultry yard
and afterward celebrate the event by a mid
night banquet.
The doctor's chickens were the pride of his
domestic establishment, and he had built for
their accommodation a log house. The log 9
were "notched down" at the corners and held
in place by their own weight and the roof.
At a late hour the boys repaired to the hen
house, armed with a fence rail. It was an
easy matter to insert the rail between two
logs and prize up those aliove, so as to make
an opening through which a nmu could crawl.
A dapper young fellow, who had visited the
doctor's daughters, went in and began to pull
the chickens off the roost and wring their
necks. While he did so the boys outside kept
their weight on the rail, and so kept the
crack oper for his escape. The nice young
man, whom we will call Bob, had dropped
about a dozen chickens outside, and the
whole crowd was in high glee over the pros
pective banquet.
DANGER AT HAND.
Just then a big, old rooster crowed.
"Look out, Bob; break that rooster's neck
and stop his noise."
"Sh! What's that?"
There was a low growl.
"Boys, you have let these logs down too
low; lift them a little so I can get out. Be
quick about it."
At that instant there was a loud bark and
a big dog bounded into the poultry yard.
The boys on the outside for an instant stood
their ground. They dropped the rail and
they grabbed chance weapons to beat off the
dog, but before they could disable him the
door of the doctor's residence opened and his
tall figure appeared. The boys scattered, all
but oue.
The logs had come together again and
Bob was a prisoner. He crouched in a cor
ner and held bis breath, hoping that he would
be overlooked, but the dog told where he was.
By this time the doctor hrd come up and
other members of the family came out, eager
to see who was caught in the man trap.
"Why, it's Bob."
"Who would have thought it ?" The ex
clamations were heard in the house arid
echoed by the young ladies. Then the door
of the log house was opened and the young
man was sent to the dormitory. Ho was
called before the faculty the next morning.
The poor fellow would have sold himself for
a song, and expected to be peremptorily ex
pelled and perhaps prosecuted.
THE DOCTOR'S CONCLUSIONS.
Meantime the doctor had thought the mat
ter over. He was a man of great sagacity in
the management of boys, and he recognized
this freak as a piece of wild mischief which
might not be meanness. He resolved to give
the matter such disposition as would put a
sober head on the young man. Accordingly,
when Bob appeared, looking like a criminal,
the doctor lectured him severely, but in a
fatherly way, and told him that such an
offense must not go w ithout a severe punish
ment.
*
ment.
Bob expected the sentence of his expulsion.
TV ith measured tones, like a judge pronounc
ing the death sentence, the doctor said:
"Mr.-, I will expect you to take supper
with me to-night, and, as you show a fond
ness for chicken, the fowls you took off the
roost last night will be on the table."
Bob would rather have been expelled. But
for the distress it would cause his parents he
would have gone home. In spite of his larks
there was good stuff in Bob, and with a tre
mendous effort he resolved to face the music.
It is impossible to describe the mental ag
ony Bob went through that evening when he
6at 8t the £nble where the doctor presided
with courtly dignity.
In elegant wife could not have been more
courteous to an Ignored guest than she was
to Bob, and her «laughters treated the young
man as cordially as ever. Not a word was
said about the affair of the night before, but
the la *: dish of chickens was like a mount
ain in the poor boy's eyes. It was the refine
ment of torture when the doctor, with the
utmost suavity, helped him to the choicest
pieces.
The situation, which, under ordinary cir
cumstances, would have been ludicrous,
under the doctor's composure and his wife's
tact was carried almost to the pathetic.
It was a lesson written on Bob's memory in
burning letters, and he never forgot it.—At
lanta Journal.
A 810,000,000 Sapphire.
One ol the greatest sapphires of the world
is the property of the Polytechnic society, of
Berlin, Prussia. It weighs a little more than
six ounces. The jury of the Polytechnic so
ciety on the grounds, stated in full at their
discussion, would have settled its value at the
frightful sum of 64,000,000 marks, or $16,000,
000. It need hardly be said that such a treas
ure is not likely to find a purchaser at such a
price.—Chicago News.
Photos by Fireflies' Light,
Dr. John Vansant, of the United States
marine hospital at St. Louis, claims to be the
first to have taken photographs by the light
of fireflies. He placed twelve fireflies in a
three oun«?e bottle, covering its mouth with
fine white bobinet The average duration of
the flash of each insect was half a second, and
the luminous area on the abdomen was about
one-eighth of an inch square. The time of
exposure was fifty flashes-—Science.
Under the Weather.
Mother (to Bobby, who is slightly under
the weather)—Papa will be sorry to hear
that his little boy is sick, Bobby.
fkiU>y—Do you think he'll give me any
thin««, 31a—a penny, perhaps?
Mother— I shouldn't be surprised.
Bobby—Then I hope I won't get well until
he comes home.— P. H. Welch in The Epoch.
It ain't de man dat Is hard ter whup dat
gins you de mos' trouble. It ü de feller dat
won't stay whupped.

xml | txt