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ui. No. Helena, Montana, Thursday, March 8, 1888. •5 Volume xxa. <fli C 1ï1«ldî,KjcraId. R. E. FISK D. W. FISK. A. J. FISK Publishers and Proprietors. Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana -O Rates of Subscription. WEEKLY HERALD: One Year. (In advRnee).............................S3 00 Hli Months, (in advance)............................... J "» Three Months, (in advance)......................... 1 ^ When not paid for in advance the ra»e will be Four Dollars per yeaii Postage, in all cases, Prepaia. DAILY HERALD: City Subscribers, delivered by carrier 81.00 a month One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. S9 (« Si* Months, by mail, (in advance)............... " J™ 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.] 4VA11 communications should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publisher!), Helena, Montana. AT "THE LITERARY.'» Folks in town, I reckon, thinks They git all the fun they air ' _ P.unnin' loose 'round—but, 'y jinks! . __ We got fun and fun to spare, Right out here amongst the ash And oak timber ever'where. / Some folks else kin cut a dash * 'Sides town people, don't forgit— _ _ 'Specially in winter time, ____ When they's snow and roads is fit. In them circumstances I'm Resignated to my lot— < ___ Which puts me in mind o' what ? _ 'S called "The Literary." - , I's folks in the country sees Rots o' fun—take spellin' school; < >" Er ole hoe-down jamborees ; « Er revivals; er ef you'll J_ Tackle taffy-pullin's you Kin git fun and quite a few. % _ Fame with buskin's. But all these Kind o' frolics they hain't new )£££ By a hundred year 'er two, __ Cipher on it as you please. t '____ But 1 11 teU you what I jest Think walks over all the rest— Anyway it suits me best— , _7 _ 'That's "The Literary." ' ,t 2 •» __ First the}- started it—"'y gee !" _ 'S?. Thinks, says I, "This settlement " 'S gittin too high toned fer me." ' 1 But when all begin to jine, , __ And I heerd Lsory went, I jest kind o' drapped in line Like you've seen some sandy, thin, Scrawny shoat put fer the crick Down some pig trail through the thick Spice bresh, where the whole drove's been 'Bout six weeks 'fore he gits in : "Can't tell no* hin',"' I-says-ee, 1* 'Qau 8 if. t.**l *'<>•* i -t 1 Their blame'Literary.'" , •' • v< Very first night I was there I was'p'inted to be what y They call "Critic"—so"s a fair " Rf, J And square jedgment could be got V On the pieces 'at was read. ______ And on the debate—"Which air V • Most destructive element, . " Fire or worter t" Then they bed v ___ Compositions on "Content," * _ "Death" and "Botany;" and Tomps, _____ He read one on "Dreenin'Swamps" I p'nounced the boss and said: "So fer'atv the best thing read m m*S In 'The Literary 1' " J, Then they sung some— tel I called _!__ Order, and got back ag'in ^ In ihe critic's cheer, and hauled . ___ All o' the p'formers in. . ry Mandy Brizendine read one - I fergit ; and Doc's was "Thought ;" 4 ___ And Sarepty's, hem was "None _ ___ Air Denied 'at Knocks;" and Daut— _y_ Fayette Strawnses little niece— i She got up and spoke a piece; Theu Izory she read hern, r *'~ '•Best thing in the whole concern," ■ n I-says-ee; "now let's adjoum J This here'Literary!'" ^ j There was some contendin'—yit '. S We broke up in harmony. Y» » Road outside as white as grit, . A _ And as slick as slick could bel ' - T I'd fetched 'Zory in my sleigh, * And I had a heap to say, v , Drivin' back—'in fact, 1 driv _____ _ 'Way around the old nort h way, \ . Where the Daubenspeckses live. _ 'Zory alius—fore that night— "C £ Never 'peared to feel just ngbt lu my company. You see On y thing on earth saved me <■ Was that "Literary!" - James Whitcomb Riley, in Century lie Knew What It Was. " Tlie old story of the British tar's account of his experience at a cathedral service on shore is again being told, and is worth retelling. He was particularly enthusi astic in his description of the singing of an anthem. "What's a hanthemf asked a listener. "What, do you mean to say you don't know what a lxanthem i ,f' "Not me." "Well, then, I'll tell yer. If I was to say to yer, ''Ere, Bill, give mo that 'andspike,' that wouldn't be a knnthem. But was I to say, 'Bill—Bill—B'U—giy—giv —giv—giv me, giv me that—Bill, giv me that hand, give me that, hand, handspike, spike—spike—Bill, giv—giv mo that—that hand—handspike, hand—handspike, spike— spike—spike—spike, ah—men, ah—men ; liill, givmethatkandspike, spike, ah—men!' Why, that would be a hantheml"—New York Sun. ______ The Boy Knew Flow. A mother on Madison avenue lately ro quested her daughter, who is just approach ing womanhood, to givo her beau a hint that she must not sit up later than 10 o'clock. This the girl was reluctant to do, but her little brotlier threatened that unless she did he would ojien the parlor door and announce the maternal edict. The sister supposed that she l ad put a quietus upon her brother by reminding him of his playing hookey and forging his mother's name to excuses from school to go skating, not forgetting to men tion the little riding whip his mamma kept in her room. All this, however, was not enough to keep the youth from getting even with Sis' beau for not giving him anything Christmas. The other evening he got an alarm clock with a bell as loud as the gong on the Brooklyn bridge bob, and placed it under the sofa where his sister and her be trothed were to do their spooning. The hands were pointed at 10. The unsuspecting girl heard the tick, but took it to be her lover's Wuterbury. He was just tickling her ear w itb a yarn about a horse his papa was going to buy when the gong sounded. There was a pause—and then, as though under standing the meaning, he grabbed his hat and never stopped running until he struck the door stoop, when ho flew. The boy had iced the steps. The little brother now takes • cushion to school with him.—Albany Journal. A well wisher is ono who invests in oil ter ritory. SCHOOLS OF TODAY. THE CHANGE WHICH HAS COME OVER OUR METHODS. How the Whole Tone of School Life Has Been Elevated—The Part Played by Pictures—Introduction of Object Ees It is a curious thing that, side by side with the modern amenities in schooling, there sometimes comes in a reaction against every thing that can make learning attractive. It is like the theory which used to exist, that no drug could be realiy useful unless it gave out the full terrors of its natural taste and odor. Sometimes even now, in out of the way places, one finds an old fashioned drug shop (perhaps opening out of the very parlor of an old fashioned doctor), where the mere atmosphere is as barbarous and forbidding as the strange foreign names of the articles sold there—coloquintida, perhaps, or ipecac uanha. But the modern drug shop is called a pharmacy, and it aims to replace those vigorous old odors with others suggestive of Araby the Blest. A similar change has come over our school methods. I can recall when battered desks and chopped benches were regarded as an essential part of even the private school sys tem. Why contend against it? it was asked; boys were natural barbarians and would soon make the new look as badly as the old. Yet about that time the discovery was made that the way to secure respect for school fur niture was to make it respectable, and the boyish jackknife fodnd other objects. So I can remember when the introduction of singing, and later of drawing, into our pub lic schools was regarded as a finical whim, suitable for girls' school only. Emollit mores; each of these practices is found to help school discipline and refine the taste, so that the whole tone of school life is elevated. I was fitted for college by a teacher who never let his rattan go out of his hand except to lay it on his desk close by him. A public school principal who should now pursue this course would lose his place, and rightly; tho very regulations of some communities re quire that the rod, it if exists, should be kept in the desk, out of sight, and that every blow should be afterward reported to the proper authorities. One of the most curious forms of this Grad grind severity is the crusade occasionally undertaken against all illustrations of school books. The most thoughtful and carefully designed work, in geography, in history, even in arithmetic, is supposed to be sufficiently condemned when it is called a picture book. Yet it is a period when all works for older rareons —diction»«»«" l 7~'~ ries, magazines—have brought the art of pictorial illustrations to its highest point. Webster and Worcester have alike adopted it. Justin Winsor's monumental "Narrative and Critical History of America" is crowded with portraits, autographs, fac-similes, and reproductions of historic pictures. The later editions of Gray's "Botany of the Northern United States" have careful delineations of every historical genus. The American maga zines have won the admiration of the world by their illustrations of all geographical and historical papers. Mr. Edward Atkinson carried the art of pictorial exhibition even into political econ omy, and is never quite happy till he can get his proposition embodied for the eye in parallel lines. The United States census re port resorts to charts and curves and colored diagrams when it wishes fully to elucidate any important general result. All this is done for grown people—for the gravest, the maturest, the most educated. They, if any, are the persons who might fairly be asked to fix their minds clearly and austerely upon words and numerals, without stooping to the alleged frivolity of picture books. If they ■ do not accomplish this, if the very people who make the criticism are only too glad to eke out their own imperfect knowledge by an illustrated magazine or an illustrated dic tionary, is it not a little absurd in them to enforce such a grim abstinence upon school children? In an admirable article by the eminent French writer Professor Th. Ribot on "Tho Mechanism of Attention" he maintains a different theory. The infant child, he says, is at first under the sway of spontaneous at tention alone, noticing only bright objects or sustenance giving objects. By degrees it ob serves things less selfishly interesting, begin ning at about the third month. The path is from the most intense, most impressive sensa tions, to the finer and more delicate ones. To fix and hold one sensation is an art that must be learned. "A child, for example, refuses to learn to read, but is vastly inter ested in the pictures in the book. The father says that reading will show the meaning of the pictures. This acts as an artificial in ducement, and the child goes to work, sub stituting an artificial attention to arbitrary signs for tho natural attractiveness of pict ures." After a while "art has done its work, and attention has become second na ture." All this is long 6inco recognized in our schools in the introduction of object les sons. Formerly pupils learned a definition of a bird; then they were taught something about a bird's structure; after that, if they were fortunate, they were taken to see some stuffed birds in a museum. Now the stuffed bird, or better still, a living one, is a part of the school properties ; that is shown fii-st, and when curiosity is aroused the children readily learn about it. But as no school can have annexed to it a complete museum of natural history, geography and the history of the human race, the pictorial art comes in by way of substitute or preliminary. No child can understand from words alone that there is any part of the world which is essentially different from his native town, but his first picture of a glacier or a geyser, a castle or a cathedral, the sphinx of Egypt or the Esquimau in his kayak, opens his eyes to the rest of the globe; he begins to be a man. It is even more true of history; the most skillful combination of words can never bring a child so near the mound builders or the Pueblo Indians, to the puritans or the cavaliers, to the revolutionary soldiers and the founders of our government, as he is brought by the first good picture be sees. "T. W. H." in Harper's Bazar. The Dear, Unselfish Creature. Mr Sampson (passionately)—I love you devotedly, Miss Chumley, but my i>ecumary affairs have prevented my making a declara tion until now. But I have put away enough now to feel justified in asking you to be my W Mis8 Chumley (hesitating but sweetly)—I confess that I am not wholly indifferent to you. but—but—• "But what, dear?" , "Would you mind telling how much you hare put away »''—Texas Siftings. A5uuT WEDîÆVàL fvitL/iCiritio. Curious Cures for Common Complaints. Tlie "flagstone's" Many Virtues. A lover of the curiosities of medical litera ture have unearthed some interesting prac tices among the superstitious people of mediaeval times. Among other absurdities of ignorance it was held that a chip from a gallows, on which several persons had been hanged, worn in a bag around the neck, was a cure for ague. A halter by which some criminal had been hung was bound around the temples as an infallable cure for head ache. Tumors of the glands were said to be "driven away" by nine blows of a dead man's band, while the hand of a man who had been cut down from the gallows was said to work wonders in this particular. A ring made from a coffin was applied for tho relief of cramps, which were also said to be dispelled by a rusty sword hanging by the patient's bed. If one had the toothache, one was told to go and drive nails in an oak tree, which, it is true, would not kill the pain, but was a sure preventive against a future attack. A stone with a hole in it, hung at the head of one's bed, was said to cure nightmare, the cause of that evil being thought to be witches, who sat on the patient's stomach; hence the pendant and stone was called a "hagstone." The "hagstone" was used gen erally as a safeguard against all of the ills which are ascribed to impish interference; and it is astonishing to find many such old practices, the relics of superstition and ignorance, still kept up by people who ought to know better. It is, for instance, a custom to this day for people of a certain class to steal meat from the butcher, rub it on warts, and then bury it, the warts being expected to vanish as the process of decomposition sets in. The writer remembers having tried this when a child, at the recommendation of a servant girl, but, it is needless to say, with very unsatisfactory results. Only stolen meat, and beef notably, was held to be effi cacious. Ct Pricking a wart with a pin till the blood came and then throwing the pin away was also said to drive w'arts away, the warts being promptly transferred to the hands of whoever picked up the pin. A potato car ried in the pocket is still recommended to rheumatics, and hundreds of like practices are in vogue at the present day among the poor and ignorant, especially the immigrants of the peasant class, with whose ridiculous remedies the physician often h-s to deal with summary severity.—Medical Register. How Berry W»ll Does It. Some time ago, while the original "Ermi nie" company was playing an engagement in Washington, W. S. Daboll, the inimitable Ravermes of the cast, occupied at a Wash ington hotel, with his wife, a room which Sf" Daboll had been in the room a couple jf days a messenger came to him one morning saying that Mr. Wall had sent for a pair of trousers which he had forgotten on leaving. The actor searched the closets but found no trousers except his own. The messenger left but returned soon, saying the trousers were under the bed. Mr. Daboll searched and al lowed the messenger to search, but still no trousers could be found. A third time the messenger came, begging pardon for giving the%etor so much trouble. The trousers, he 8aid, would be found be tween the mattresses in the bed, where Mr. Wall had placed them to be pressed! Mr. Daboll turned down the mattress, and there, sure enough, were a pair of trousers stretched out very carefully and creased as nicely by being slept on by 190 pound Actor Daboll as they would have been by the most careful tailor. Mr. Daboll laughed heartily at the king of the dudes' method of pressing his trousersfand gave them up to the messenger. Later he wrote the following and sent it to Mr. Wall: "Air. E. Berry Wall dr. to W. S. Daboll and wife. To pressing one pair of trousers, $1.50." The actor has as yet secured no set tlement with the king of the dudes.—Water bury American. AUTOGRAPHS OF STATESMEN. A Privilege of the Pages in the Capitol. Congressmen's Signatures. For years it has been the privilege of the pages in the Capitol to make quite a lot of pocket money each session in collecting auto graphs. The pages of the senate, for in stance, will collect the signatures of all the senators in an album, turn the book over to some youngster in the house, who gets the congressmen's names, then to one of the pages in the supreme court for the autographs of the justices, and finally to the riding pages of the senate who are constantly going between the Capitol, the White House, and the several departments and bureaus of the government The latter get the names of the president, the cabinet and other prominent officials. For such a collection the boy who starts the book Iras received whatever he could out of his customer, trusting to his own sharpness and the latter's generosity. When he get's his money—and $10 is the usual price—he settles with the other pages who have assisted him, on such terms as they are willing to make. The ordinary terms of settlement have been $5 to the contractor, $2 to the house page, $2 to the boy who gets the president and cabi net. and $lto the youth in the supreme court. But the example of the trades unions has reached the Capitol, and an equal division of profits is nqw demanded by the boys. I took an album which had been sent me by a friend in the west to one of the senate pages the other day, and asked him to get the auto graphs of the statesmen for me, as he had done before. I bad formerly paid him $10 for such a job, but he informed me that the boys had organized a union and had advanced the price to $15. He said that the "kids" in the house kicked because the senate boys were making more money than they, and had struck; so it became necessary to organize and have a stated card of rates. "Don't you see," he said; "people who want autographs somehow always come to the senate first. We have got $5 for getting the names of seventy-six senators, and have given the 'kids' in the house only $2 for get ting 325 names. When they happened to catch on to a job they got $5, of course, and gave us $2 for the senators' autographs, but for every one book they get we get a dozen, and they kicked about it. So we bad to agree to pray them as much as we got our selves. They won't touch a book less than $5. There was a kid in the house who cut under them and got some names not long ago for $3, but when the other boys found it oat they got hold of the book and tore out the leaves. They boycotted him, don't you see?" —Washington Cor. New York Tribune. The Iron Hand. The fact that the king of Sweden has issned a volume of his poems shows very clearly that the Swedes are a patient and long suf fering people.—New Orleans States. A CAR DRIVER'S TALL ONE OF THE MANY WHO ARE STRANGERS AT HOME. An Early Breakfast—A Workman Who Doesn't. Get Time to See His Children. Story of a Busy Life—Hard on the Legs. Benefits of Organization. I'm driving in Brooklyn now, and I'll tell you what the last tie-up done for us, speak ing about organizing. Before that we used to get five minutes for lunch, and the "super" told us we came there to work, and not to eat; now we get forty minutes. Then we used to have to put the team away, and take the collars off, when we came in at the end of the day's work, and also get there half an hour early and find our team, one in one end of the stable and the other in the other end, and harness 'em and bring 'em out to the car. Now that's all done for us. And then we used to have to wash our cars, and we used to have to buy the bell for the off horse, which cost 75 cents. Well, that's all changed. We don't do none of those things now, and get forty minutes for lunch besides. The difference is this, that I knew plenty of fel lows that used to leave home, say at 3 in the morning, and not get home again till after 8 at night, and then if another man was took 6ick you had to take his place, so that I've done three hours extra on top of my day and got home at midnight and not seen a soul of my family in thirty-eight hours many a time, without a cent extra pay. But there's no more of that. 1 get up about half past 5 in the morning and light the fire and crack the ice in the pitcher, may be, and I cook myself an egg or two and some coffee, and if my wife s awake I slip in and whisper a word with her without Waking the children, and then I'm on deck at 7 o'clock. I don't live near the stable on ac count of the bad neighborhood for bringing up little ones, so I can't get home to my lunch; but I've got four decent rooms and decent people for neighbors above and below me, and I pray $10 a month. I get $2 a day and work seven days, because I need all I can make. I give my wife all except twelve shil lings, which gets me my lunches and tobacco, and she used to lay up a dollar now and then, but that's all goue, and there's no laying up now on account of her and me needing the doctor. Well, I get home at 8 at night and take my loaf and read my paper till 10 o'clock, with tlie bite of supper she saves over for me, and then I go to bed The only thing hard is my not seeing my children. I can truly thank God that my little Emma knows me now, but up to 3 years old sbe Jij i~.*w me from any naa^r strpet. I had a cbuui, and lie didn t believe me when I said that, but he believes me now. This is how it was: I was doing my fourteen and sixteen horn's' work on the Third avenue in New York, and I had need of every cent and a constitution like a korso, so I made every day tell. I had been doing that till little Emmie was 3 years old, and then ray leg began to trouble me, and one day I had to lay off. I couldn't walk without help, bo Jack, my chum, got away and helped mo home. There was Emmie and her mother and Jack and me, each took a chair, and I whispered to my wife so that the little girl wouldn't hear me. "Emmie, dear," says my wife, God bless and keep her to me, "one of these gentlemen is your father. Do you know which one it is?" "This is my papa," says she. And then Juck believed what I'd been tell ing him, for the little child walked right over to him and climbed on his knee and put up her mouth for a kiss. She had seen my beard in the l>ed once in a while, but Jack's beard and mine were as like as two brooms, and she chose the wrong one. Well, in one way of looking at it, I'm sorry to say that she knows me now quite as a child ought to. May be it's what they call a Providence, and the finger of God is in it, but, anyhow, my legs is that bad now that j once in a while I have to lay off for a day and rest them by walking about and sitting down—for when you get a car driver's leg on you it's a curious thing that walking is as good for it (if you can stand the pain) as sit ting down. What do 1 mean by a driver's leg? Well, you'll find many a man at the break has it in these three cities, where they'll not let a driver sit down, and in fact all will get it sooner or later if the}' stick to the business. It comes of standing up so many hours without the chance to walk that a conductor has, up and down the car collecting the fares. One driver's legs will be the size of telegraph poles, and another one, like me, will get bunolies of veins as big as your list sticking out of his legs. There's no cure except the almshouse or tlie potters field, though I do find a great help in my elastic stocking. I'm a better man since I put it on. All tho talk about the torture a man feels when he first gets on a car—well, it isn't bosh* for you see young fellows give up their jobs every week on account of the agony they suffer—but it ain't the first few day ; it's the whole life. It's hard on tlie legs, and they never get use to it. A young fellow thinks if he's stranded and knows about horses that he can be a driver. Well, he'll find out it's more in the constitution of a man than in knowing about horses. I wore out the first pain in my legs in about three or four days. But then came the swollen veins. They must come. It's the natural conse quence of the business. "Leave railroading," says my doctor. Oh, it's easy to say it, but when a man is tied to a pair of car horses and has a wife and family to support there's no such thing as looking for other work. It won't come to him, and how can he go to it? But in the regards of that I think I am very lucky, for my boy will be old enough to ap prentice to a machinist of my acquaintance in another couple of years, and after that he'll chip in a little toward keeping the family and I'll be able to lay off a day now and then. I spoke about the almshouse and the potter's field, but there's no such thing for us. That's another old thing done away with by means of organizing. In our local we get $5 a week when we are sick—which will pa cify the landlord and keep a bite in the cup board. In case of death there's no provision, but we make up » subscription and get together $40 or $50, may be, which is enough to leave the potter's field in the dis tance ; and the only cost to us of keeping up the local is thirty-five cents a month, so that we don't feel it very hard, though there's a dozen things crying for every cent that most of us earn. Now, that's pretty much all I can think of about driving a car.—New York Sun Interview. The late Gen. McKee Duirn left all bis fortune to his wife. His will was the shortest ever filed in Washington, and consisted of four lines. j STORIES ABOUT MEN. Ex-Governor Magoffin's Interesting Talk with a Deaf and Dumb Man. Ex-Governor Beniah Alagoffin, of Ken tucky, got in the train one day at Frankfort to go to Lexington. He sat down by the side of a very handsome, intelligent looking young man. The governor, who was a great talker, at oDce began to chat. The young man listened well, apparently, nodding his head from time to time, as if he agreed with the governor's views, but it seemed that he couldn't find room to put in a word. This continued until they reached Lexington, when a or dial hand shake and an exchange of cards took place. Subsequently, in the corridor of the Phoenix hotel, the governor was telling a party of friends about the meet ing, saying the young man was one of the most agreeable fellows he ever encountered. "Perhaps some of you know him," said he, "he has one brown and one gray eye. But stop, I have his card !" "Why, governor," said one of the party, "that was Bob King; he's deaf and dumb. Everybody Lnows him 1" — Philadelphia Times. _ Didn't Know He Was President. When Charles Crocker was at Portland on his spike driving tour over the California and Oregon, an incident occurred which is illus trative of the bewildering magnitude of tho railway interests of that gentleman. He re ceived a call at the Esmond house from the general manager of the Oregonian railway, a bttle narrow gauge formerly trader the con trol of a Scotch company. Mr. Crocker re garded the visit as purely complimentary, but when tho narrow gauge manager began to talk about the prospects of his line, the need of repairs at certain points, and gave the magnate the assurance that it was a fairly prosperous concern, Mr. Crocker's mind be came cloudy. He clearly did not know what the man was driving at. Still the official went on until he was interrupted by a friend who happened to be present, and who said: "Mr. Crocker doesn't understand what all this is about." "Oh, I guess he does," said the general manager, with a confident air. "I guess he knows that he is president of this railroad." "But I'm-if he did,'' said Mr. Crocker, ''until you said so this moment." The incident created a ripple of merriment among the railroad men who happened to be present, and some of the Portland magnates who heard the story thought a great deal less of their railroad interests when they re flected on the fact that here was a man who was president of a railroad and didn't know it.—Lakeviev (Ore.) Examiner. "Th« Court Does Not Lunch." A Uwuul V.UUU^CI 1«« Till. 0U3UO) X'llV S court, in tho queen's bench, applied to his lordship to adjourn a case until after the •'luncheon time" of the court, as the plaintiff had telegraphed that he had missed his train. Mr. Justice Dav—You should ask that tho case be postponed until after "the adjourn ment,''for "the court''does not lunch; that is not an epoch in the life of "the court." Laughter ) 1 do not speak of what individ uals do, but "the court'' does not lunch.— London Telegraph. Artist Whistler and Oscar Wilde. A Boston artist tells this story of Whistler and Oscar Wilde, who has tho reputation of borrowing Whistler's bright speeches. Hav ing heard the artist say an unusually good thing Oscar exclaimed deploringly: "I wish I could have said that." "Oh," replied Whistler derisively, "but you know you will say it."—Boston Herald. 'treatment for Wonuds. I make surgery a specialty, and I say to you frankly that there is entirely too much cutting going on, and most of it is being done by men who should never touch a knife. This is especially true of treatment for wounds of the abdomen, and of dis eases affect ; ng the stomach and digestive organs. People who have read of the suc cessful treatment by heroic means of some disease which they fancy resembles their own are clamorous for tho application of knife, scalpel, saw and needle. And when the reputable, careful doctor, who knows well the dangei's into which they would ignorantly run, refuses them, they rush straightway to tho Impostor and are butch ered. That is why honorable medical men are so chary about getting into print with their difficult operations; they are perfectly willing the people should possess all possible knowledge of tho progress of science, but they don't want to see so many costly blun ders in divining between real and spurious surgical skill.—Surgeon in Globe-Democrat. Darkey and "Dissecting Room." " Can you give me a few cents toward gittin'a supper?" asked a negro of a couple of detectives who were lounging about head quarters. Ono of the officers, who is the wittiest and quickest at catching on to a Joke, thought there was some fun to bo had, and immediately fixed things by saying to the supplicant. "You're just the man I want. Take this package up to the Jefferson hospital, get on the elevator and deliver it to Dr.- — in tho dissecting room. Here's half a dollar for your trouble." At the men tion of "dissecting room" the darkey's jaw dropped and his eyes assumed a scared ex pression. He was frightened at the bare mention of such a thing. "W-w-won't it do if I leave it down stairs?" asked he. "No, sir; it will not," was answered. "Well, den, boss, I guess I don't want no supper," and with that be vanished, slamming the door behind him. Buch is superstition.—Phila delphia Call. Ladles Buying Goods by Sample. Ladies living in small towns and villages miss much of the pleasure that makes life worth living to their city sisters by being un able to visit the great bazars of" trade and do their shopping for themselves. However, if they are not content to buy their goods by sample, they can procure anything they need or desire through the medium of purchasing agencies in New York, which will guarantee to forward any article, from an anchor to « needle, or to match any shade of dress goods, and will obtain information on any conceiv able subject. Some agents make daily, tri weekly or weekly trips to the city from out lying districts and fill all orders consigned to them.—New York World. Something Like Civilisation. A tipsy man entered a 'Cottage Grove avenue car, threw his arms around the heater pipe, steadied himself, and exclaimed: "Now, this s-somethin' like. This civ'lish ashun. Shura hu-humanity 'bout thish. I thought when they t-talked 'bous heatin' town with gash how nice t'would be to hav# lampposts warmed. Thish is great I" Chicago Herald. NEWSPAPER WORK. WHAT IS SAID OF IT BY A MAN OF EXPERIENCE. A Young Man Apt to Be Disappointed in Editorial Work—The Duties of a Reporter—Hours of Labor—Behind the Scenes. William Schachtel, whose connection with the press of Utica has been long and honor able, made an address before the Y. M. C. A. in that city last week on "Newspaper Work." Mr. Schachtel said: "The young man about entering journalism as an editorial writer is apt to be greatly disappointed when he finds that the rule by which he must judge is the broad, liberal and impartial one of the world, rather than his own narrow and sometimes biased opinion. But, you say, an editor should surely have the courage to express his convictions. Granted, and there is not an editor living who will say that he does not hold the opinions expressed in his editorials: but if the truth were known it would be found that his individual and private opinion is far in advance of that which he expresses in print. Many edi torials are as remarkable for what they omit as for what they actually do say. Journal ism is not the only field, however, whose toilers are ofteD 'wise as serjients and harm less as doves,' and who temper principle with policy. "The duties of a reporter are simply eler icaL He is to make a clear, true statement of what facts he finds, and in nine cases out of ten it is as devoid of comment as a frog is of hair. Comment and the editorial "we" are the prerogatives of an editor, and it is better so, as reporters have responsibilities enough without it. "Another fact which is not a pleasing rev elation to a young reporter is that his time is never his own. He does not work a given number of hours, or regular hours, as is t*e case in almost every other branch of indus try. If occasion requires it, he must work twenty-four hours out of the twenty-four, and be ready to repeat it the next day. The work of reporting is regular only in its irreg ularity. Regular hours for meals or for sleep must be discarded, and often to suit the merest whims of individuals. Many can not stand the physical strain, while many others give up and seek work in other fields. On the morning papers, as a rule, the reporters rise at noon, goto work at 1:30 or 2 p. m., work until dinner time, which is auy time before 8 p. m., returning to work imme diately afterward, and continuing until 2:30 or 3 a. m ., when the paper goes to press, then writing letters to correspondents and v/«.» —~.a ivr tne next uay. cupper consists of a cold lunch intended to be eaten at midnight, but offener never touched until the day's work is done. If lucky, the re porter gets to bed at 5 a m., to sleep till noon, then repeat the same programme. "If be is called to go out of town to report a trial in court or a morning sermon in church, ho must rise at 9 a. m., and thereby lose three hours of sleep. On an afternoon paper the hours are no shorter. At work from 7 a. m. to 10 and 11 p. m., afternoon newspaper re porters fare no better, and as their busiest hour is at noon, they often do not get their dinner until 4 p. m., after the paper has gone to press. If you should fiud this mass of de tail uninteresting, the apology must be that this sketch was written in hours which right fully belong to sleep. The great diversity of the work is another feature which is apt to prove a stumbling block in the path of a young reporter. That it is necessary for him to know what he is writing about is self evi dent. Neither his education nor his brief ex perience in the practical affairs of life can have been sufficient to make him familiar with the many subjects on which ho is called to write. "In regard to what appears the most attractive in a reporter's position—the loaves and fishes—let me say, once for all, there is not a single, honest, self-respecting reporter who does not wish from the bottom of Lis heart they were abolished altogether. To be freely admitted to a dramatic enter tainment in consideration of the fact that you write a notico for it, may seem a high, privilege to some; yet even such sordid natures can understand that in a case where tho reporter knows beforehand that the en tertainment will be inferior or not suited to his tastes, the duty of attending becomes a punishment. He attends and doe9 his work, but with no more enjoyment than the hired singers at a funeral, the musicians at the ball or the waiters at the banquet. It is a matter of business; that is all. As a means of calm ing a livelihood newspaper work is far less remunerative than is generally believed. It is very galling to many newspaper writers, editors as well as reporters, to know that they are working for less money than the compositors who put their articles in type. "From tho facts thus given ia regard to newspaper work it would appear anything but attractive or remunerative, yet that it has substantial chann3 cannot fco denied. 'Knowledge is power.' and there is great satisfaction in newspaper work, because one adds to his stock of knowledge every day. From continued experience end habits of close observation a reporter comes to see things as they are from the inside, from be hind the scenes, and not as they appear to tho world outside. Life's tragedy and com edy he sees mingled about him every day, and his work is made interesti ng by it3 con trasts, which are often startling. Many things which he prints may bo interesting, but the things he does not print would often be more so."—Auburn (N. Y.) Dispatch. The Walter» of America. It is twice as difficult to keep waiters under control here as in Eurojraan cities. They have to be constantly watched or they be come careless—they lose the manners of good waiters. The fact is, the average American diner is the best natured man on earth. The swells of the highest rank in this country will accept attendance in the dining room that would drive a Frenchman into hysterics. The full-blooded American, If his digestion is perfect, will bear anything with an easy good nature. If a trained waiter from Paris or London is placed in one of our leading hotel or restaurant dining rooms, he is conspicuous for his deference and respect. He is polite, quick and dexterous, and attempts to assist good digestion by showing a desire to phase at every movement. But among American patrons those habits will wear out in less than a month if the waiter is not watched closely. They become lax first, and that step is fol lowed by too great familiarity. The leniency and good nature of the guests and the talk and air of the other waiters ruins him. No head waiter can keep a large restaurant or dining room supplied with good help in the west, and it is little better in eastern cities. —Hotel Boarder in Globe Democrat A VENEZUELA COUNTRY INN. Airy Rooms witli Stone Floors—Bats as Room Mates—Eatables. The usual country inn all over Venezuela reminds me of those of Mexico, Spain and even northern Africa, for the Moors intro duced their mode of living and traveling into Spain, and the Spaniards adopted it for their own country as well as for tho colonies, which they founded only a few years after the downfall of the Moors. All these posadas, or fondas, or fondifas, are built in square shape, with an interior courtyard, frequently adorned with flower beds and palm trees and surrounded by galleries. The traveler, after descending from his horse, is usually shown to one of the few large, airy rooms, with stone floor and high ceilings, in which three or four folding beds, consisting of a piece of canvas stretched over a wooden frame, and probably one or two chairs, are the only pieces of furniture. In larger town 3 of 0.ÜU0 to 8,000 inhabitants there will be even a wash table, but its presence is not in sisted upon by the weary traveler, who can as well do his washing in the river or the acequia. Sometimes one room has to be shared with two or three fellow travelers, invariably men, for I stopped at posadas where female travelers have not been seen for years. There are, of course, no glass windows in any of the country "hotels," but the windows are barred with heavy iron gratings and wooden staves. On convenient places under the ceil ing there are iron hooks and rings, for the wealthier traveler frequently carries his own hammock, on which, suspended across the room, he prefers to pass the nights sheltered against tho attacks of centipedes, scorpions or minor bloodthirsty things, but without defense against bats, some of which are very large. I did not sleep in many rooms with out a few bats as room mates. Even in pri vate houses on the haciendas of the wealthier planters they flitted about the room. V\ hen they became too familiar and approached my face I got up, and, shaking a sheet, drove them out of the window; but they invariably returned, without, however, ever settling down on my face. One »light be able to keep snoring fellow travelers out of the room by engaging all the beds, but sometimes, when guests are numer ous and accommodations scanty, one cannot help sharing the roam with them. The al muerzo and the coniida are not the best, but there are always eggs, chicken, salad and coffee to be had', while in the larger towns red wine is included in the meals and not paid fur extra. The reader will probably not be tempted to undertake any travels in Ven ezuela, but I must confess that I fared worse iu many countries with the reputation of be ing far more civilized than our sister repub lic. Travelers, after riding 011 horseback day after dav, sometimes for weeks, are usu ally so tired'that they win sleep anywhere and so hungry that they will eat anything. As a precaution against accideuts I invaria bly carried a bottle of brandy and a few tablets of chocolate along.— E. De Hesse Warteg. __ Gen. Sheridan's Contributions to History. Lieut. Gen. Sheridan is the only famous commander of the late civil war who has not caught tho scribbling fever. He has pub lished little or nothing of his recollections of the war, and has discouraged others from doing so. His idea is that war recollections at twenty years' range are not worth much ; that history had better be made out of con temporary records and reports. Ho does all he can to have these preserved and prepared for the use of the future historian. He care fully kept the originals or copies of all let ters", telegrams, orders, and so forth, sent or received by him during the war. Some of these were destroyed in the Chicago fire, but he does not regret this so much as he might, because it was the cause of his making a "find" of greater value than all his docu ments put together. When he came on to Washington, having determined to replace His lost treasures with copies, if he could do no better, he was told that ho might find in tho attic of the White House some of the tel egrams that President Lincoln had sent. Ho went up there himself, and by delving and digging got out of a mass of stuff a very large number of President Lincoln's war tel egrams, addressed not only to him, but to all the other Federal generals. He had them removed at once to a safe place, and they have been well cared for since. The future historian of the war will have Gen. Sheridan to thank for some of the best of the material laid up for him.—Washington Letter. Molasses and Fish Cakes. A tall and stout visitor to the Astor house, in New York, ordered codfish cakes and placidly instructed the waiter that he want ed some molasses. He was particular to state that ho didn't want sugar or maple syrup—he wanted molasses. He poured the molasses over the fish cakes, and seemed to relish them. "Oh, that's nothing," remarked the waiter to another visitor; "one of our patrons is stuck on sardines and ice cream, and another insists on a thin layer of English mustard on his pumpkin pie."—Good House keeping. _ Anxious to I'lc»«'. Landlady (to her star boarder, whom sli€ Is anxious to please)—May I send you some of the turkey, Mrs. De Hobson? Star boarder—Yes, thanks; a leg, if you please. Landlady—Will you have tho right or the left leg, Mrs. De Hobson?—Tlie Epoch. It is estimated that discoveries, inventions', »nd compounds patented each year in the United «States and never amounting to any thing cost $3,000,000. Points About Horses. White horses have ever been a subject for ■uperstition. Death is represented as riding • white horse. Tlie horse is distinguished from most other animals in having an undivided hoof, and in the singular property of breathing through the nostrils only and i:ot through the mouth. In hLs wild state his ears bung duwn, but under the guardianship of mar. they become erect and pointed. In this n*peet, too, the horse differs from all other animals. With them the erect ear is the sign of the savage, the falling ear the sign of civilization. So it seems plain that the true physical beauty of the horse, as well as the production of his full speed, are due to the watchful care of his humxa master. To Treat an Ingrowing Nall. . A painless method of treating an ingrow ing nail is to draw a woolen yarn under the corner of the nail, leaving both ends project ing, and let it remain thus until tho nail haa grown free from the flesh. A little mutton tallow may be used to soften the flesh about the nail, and in trimming the nail allow the corners to project a little beyond the flesh.