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L VI 111 Volume XX2. Helena, Montana, Thursday, March 1888. No. ÇVitUchlü ^jcralil. R. E. FISK 0. W. FISK. I. J. FISK Publishers and Proprietors. Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana -O Rates of Subscription. WEEKLY °HERALD : One Year. (In a«lv»»nee).............................00 Wx Months, (In advance)............................... j "? Three Months, (in advance)......................... 1 When not paid for in advance the rale will be Four Dollars per yeaii Postage, In all cases, Prepaid. DAILY HERALD: City Subscribers,delivered by carrier Jl.00a month One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. ** rr Hlx Months, by mail, (In advance)............... » WJ Three Months, by mail, (in advance)........... i «1 If not paid in advance, 812 per annum. [Entered at the Postoffice ut Helena as second (lass matter.] 4VA11 communications should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publishers, Helena. Montana. THE LILY. How withered, perish'd seems the form Of you ol>scure, unsightly root ! Yet from the blight of wintry storm, It bides secure the precious fruit. The careless eye can find no grace, No lH-auty in the scaly folds. Nor see within the dark embrace What latent loveliness it hold. Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales, The lily wraps her silver vest, Till vernal suns and vernal gales Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast. Yes hide beneath the mouldering heap, The undelighting slighted thing; There in the cold earth buried deep, In silence let it wait the spring. Oh ! many a stormy night shall close In gloom upon the barren earth. While still, in undisturbed repose, L'ninjured lies the future birth. And ignorance with skeptic eye Hope's patient smile shall wondering view Or mock ner fond credulty. As her soft tears the spot bedew. Sweet smiles of hope, delicious tear ! Die sun, the shower, indeed shall come; The promised verdant shoot appear. And nature bid her blossoms bloom. And thou, O virgin queen of spring ! Shall from thy dark and lowly bed. Bursting thy green sheath's silken string, Unveil thy charms and perfume shed. Unfold thy robes of purest white, t nsullied from their darksome grave, And thy soft totals' silvery light In the wild breeze unfettered wave. jio faith shall seek the lowly dust Where humble sorrow loves to lie, And bid her thus her hopes intrust, And watch with cheerful, patient eye. And bear the long, cold wintry night, And hear her own degraded doom ; An<l wait till heaven's reviving light. Eternal spring 1 shall burst the gloom. THE REASON. "(Set married," say my friends, and I Who've just turned thirty-four. Join their lament and, sigh for sigh, My loneliness deplore. It is not that I fear to speak. By bashfulness distressed in fact. I'm noted for my cheek. And know the bold are blest. My reason then, if I must give. Is simple, short, and clear— I know that I can't wed and live On half enough a year. TO A VETERAN. O. Patriot, would that your last hour bail come. When, with your war-stained flag, to roll of drum Yon marched, 'mid men's applause, From fighting the great cause Of land and liberty. Now you are stranded like some gallant bark, Flung helpless on the shoals, amid the dark Of dull and starless skies. Bravely and well you faced the tempest's strife, But to lie sunk 'neath sands of common life. Your pride scorns pity, yet how hard the fate To live through all—only to die too late! The Lady In the Horse Car. Woman with sachel enters car, sits down; conductor enters, asks fare; woman opens sachel, takes out purse, shuts sache], opens purse, takes out dime, shuts purso, opens Ktchel, puts in purse, shuts sachel, offers clime, receives nickel, opens sachel, takes out purse, shuts sachel, opens purse, puts in nickel, closes purse, opens sachel, puts in purse, closes sachel; stop tho car, please.— Philadelphia Record. Stiff and Frond. Wife—Well, our new girl is going to leave, John. Husband—Why ? "She says your manner toward her on the street is entirely too cool; that we haven't our family arms on the kitchen stove lids and broom handles, and that on tho whole we're not of her set."—Texas Siftings. A Mean Proceeding. Jack—Tom, were you at Charley's wed ding? Tom—Yes; but the father of the bride did a mean thing. "How was that?" "Why, he gave lier away before the whole company."—New York Evening Sun. Worthy of HU Hire. Stranger (to boy)—Boy, can you direct me to the nearest bank ? Boy—I kin fer twenty-fi cents. Stranger—Twenty-five cents! Isn't that high pay ? Boy—Yes, sir; but ji's bank directors what gits high pay.—New York Sun. lint They've All Retired. The people of Buffalo offer $100,000 for a successful plan for utilizing Niagara falls. A great many hackmen have discovered how to utilize the falls without offering any such big prize.—Pittsburg Chronicle. A Natural Inference. Niagara Landlord—You look tired and thirsty. Won't you have a glass of water? Cautious Yisitor (who has read about the Falls)—How much is it? —Buffalo Drift. The Right Size. Matter of Fact Mother (to fashionable daughter, who is going out)—Clara, I think your bustle is altogether ioo large to look well. Fashionable Daughter—I know, mamma; but you have no idea how dippery the side walks are.—New York Sun. Cold and Distant. De Smith— Don't you th ink Miss Travis is Very cold and distant. Popinjay—She ought to be; she has gone to Toronto to spend the winter.—Burlington Free Press. CROSSING THE STYX. HOW GREEK MEETS GREEK IN THE OTHER WORLD. Old Charon Still in the Ferryboat Busi ness—Connection Between the Hillen* ism of the Fast and of the Present—A Painful Sight. When a death is expected, the attendant mourners in the Greek islands have many little customs peculiar to themselves. The moribund is handed a bowl of water, into which lie puts a pinch of salt for each person with whom he is at enmity, saying as he does so: "May my wrath perish as this salt;" for it is considered dreadful for a man to die leaving an enemy behind him. His spirit, it is believed, will not rest, but will wander about as a jioor ghost, sucking the blood of his friends, like the shades in ancient hades, to gain strength for his earthly wanderings. If the complaint is consumption, they sup pose that three Erinnyes stand ready to pounce on children at the corners of the room; hence the young are kept out of the way when the dying is in extremis, and • hope is opened over his head to allow the Erinnyes to escape. Fevers are best cured by priestly incantations; the name of the disease is written on a slip of paper, and with prayer and much incensing this is bound to a tree, hoping thereby to transfer the malady. Incense is much used by the priest in his visitations to the sick; the whole room is thick with it, and perhaps contagion is thus often avoided. Where the death has occurred the women rush on to the flat roof or some other conspic uous place, where they rend the air with their cries, tear their hair and give way to unbridled grief. The town crier is sent round to announce the fact to the neighbors and to summon friends to the death wail, which takes place an hour or two after the spirit has left the body. After the body has been washed in wine it is laid out on a bier in the center of the one roomed house, arrayed in the deceased's best clothes, decked out with flowers, and with lamps burning at the side, reminding us of the ancient custom of placing the corpse thus in the midst of the hall, ■dressed in as handsome a robe as the family could afford, in order, according to Lucian, that the dead may not be cold on the passage to hades and may not be seen naked by Cer berus I Then begins the death wail ceremony, a scene of heart rending grief, such as took place in Priam's palace over the dead body of Hector. These death wails are, in fact, one of the most striking bonds of connection between the Hellenism of the past and the Hellenism of the present, and in the Greek islands, de spite the strictness o t tbe more civilised members of the orthodox church, they cling to them with surprising tenacity. A body which dies unlamented cannot enter hades, and wanders about like that of Patrocius and Elpenor in misery in the upper air, neither belonging to the living nor to tbe dead. Consequently, the death wails and the burials take place as soon as possible after death that the gates of hades may be opened to them as soon as may be. From these death wails we learn how much that is heathen is incorporated in the belief of today respecting an after life. They sing of hades as a frozen, miserable place, where the dead wander forever, anxious to return to the upper air, and endeavoring to steal from Charon, the lord of the lower earth, his keys, but ineffectually. Charon plants the bones of the departed in his garden, and they come up as weird plants. His tent pegs are heroes' bones, and the ropes are made of maidens' tresses. He rides on a horse to col lect his victims, driving the young and strong before him, dragging the aged after him by ropes, and carrying with him on hil saddle the little children. Sometimes, when a man dies who has been conspicuous for his good fortune during life, they will cut off his nails before the corpse is removed and tie them up in a bag to be preserved among the other sacred things which are hung up in the sanctuary belong ing to every house. Before the corpse leaves the house a vase of water is broken on the threshold. When any one starts on a journey, it is customary to spill water as au earnest of his success and safe return, and when the body goes on its last long journey the vase is broken. The bier is carried by four male bearers, aud about a bier the Greek islanders have this most grewsome riddle: What is that which he who makes does so to sell, he who buys does not use himself, and he who uses does not see? As the funeral procession passes through tho village street the priests chant thq offices of the dead, and from time to time the mourners, who go in front, break forth into their hideous wails, and women come forth from their houses to groan in concert with the others. Of a truth a Greek island funeral is a pain ful sight to witness. Ou reaching the church the corpse is left in the porch, aud while the liturgy is proceeding tho mourners cease to wail. Then comes the very impressive Btichera of the last kiss, which is chanted by all the congregation, and begins, "Blessed is the way thou shalt go to-day," whereat each mourner advances and gives the last kiss to tho cold face of the corpse, and once more the extravagant demonstrations of grief break forth. Finally the corpse is lowered without a coffin into its shallow grave, and each bystander casts on to it a handful of soil.— Scottish Review. Good Manners In Boston. To have a cosmopolitan streak may be un fortunate. I know it has the inconvenience of not letting one class or kind of people wholly engross or absorb us. Perhaps that is why Ï have looked about a good deal in order to'discover, if possible, in which sex, class or condition the present rush, activity and rage of personal ambition had left most of the old time human kindliness of nature, apart from finished society manner, which may or may not coexist with it I have studied idle so ciety people and professional progressionalists, attended labor and woman suffrage meetings, and I have read the signs of the qualities I like" and dislike where I had least expected them, in each and alL I have seen the truest, most disinterested kindliness where the ut most regalia of fashion was a daily or nightly routine; and the most innate politeness in • ypnn with pick in hand cleaning the sidewalk, who begged your pardon for being in the way while he paused to let you pass; and I hava witnessed the most porcine obtuseness to every instinct of manners in persons whose names, to the simple, might sound synony mouswith the cardinal virtues. The quali ties that make life worth living are not • matter of place or birth, or nu f sl0I *\. "causes;" they are more subtle a .^"*** all these.— Bosten Saturday Evening Gazett* A LETTER F*OM J. G. Be N ■ 1 V-, Is Kamins X» Money ami Write* Touchingly to B. N. HE following pri vate letter and 3fiS. have just been re ceived, and though only signed with the initials of the writer, there are niany reasons why I am led to believe that both are the work of an old friend, Mr. Jay Gould, who is at present in the coun try where the let ter is dated: "Afloat ox the Mediterranean, I ix the Gloaming, 1887. ) "Mr. Wilhelm j Contiguously, World Office, New York, U. S. A: "Sir— Would you mind using your in fluence in trying to get the inclosed piece printed in the Sabbath World and send me whatever it is worth in currency by registered mail, care lock box 291, Rome Italy? I am not earning anything this winter, being dis abled by neuralgia, and so it has occurred to me I might write some pieces for the paper, telling of sights and sounds abroad. If you print this letter, or use your influence to that end so that it gets into the paper, will you send me two or three copies and I will pay you in a few weeks. But, if you do not use it, I wish you would avoid making memo randa on it with a blue pencil, as several other editors have done, for it annoys me very much. "Pleaee da not make fun of the piece if you do not use it, as I am threatened with heart disease, and anything that makes me very angry is apt to prove fatal Atrophy of the heart is what it is called, aud if I live forty-five years longer it will be about all I can expect, so please do not make light of my piece. Fraternally yours, J. G." (Communicated.) For some time we have been sailing o'er the unruffled bosom of the Mediterranean Eea. It is a beautiful sheet of water, which has been plowed by many a keel as far back as history can inform ns. It is from 20 to 200 feeth in depth, and is well located to do the principal traffic between Eurojje and Africa. An enormous quantity of water flows into the Mediterranean sea, for a half dozen European rivers contribute to it, and the At lantic ocean also discharges its waters into this sea. And yet, owing to the hot, dry winds which sweep across from the sandy wastes of Africa, the evaporation is very great and keeps the sea from overflowing its banks. This should teach us that even nature abhors a surplus. L would ratlu»* Lo road piaster of a good yacht on the Mediterranean than to live ufwtairs in New York. We visited Milan not long ago. It is an inland town whose southern wall is washed by the Olona river. Otherwise the place is entirely unlaundered. Milan, pronounced Me-laun by bearing down hard on the last syllable, is a railroad center in northern Italy. It is eight miles in circumference and has ramparts around it. Milan points with pride to her ramparts. I often think that New York would invite more visitors from abroad if she had a better line of ramparts. The architecture of Milan embraces many types, but a good deal of it is mediaeval, with a roof of the same. Florence, however, has some palaces that are mediaevaler than those of Milan, I think. Milan used to have 240 churches, but 117 of them did not pay and were suppressed by Maria Theresa and Joseph II. Since that other churches that were doing well a few centuries ago have ceased to attract, and now there are not over eighty out of the original 240, and they have no trouble doing the whole business. I could have purchased a controlling interest in three churches here for $17. The cathedral at Milan is first rate in every respect and is doing well. I sometimes think that it is foolish for other churches to try to compete with a cathedral. They may succeed for a while, but sooner or later they will have to acknowledge that they cannot keep it up. Everywhere we go wo find the Caucasian race in the ascendant. I sometimes think that the blood of the Caucasian is more largely red and has a wider circulation than any other. But this is a deviation from what I was saying. The newer streets of Naples are quite pretty, and extend several miles out beyond the town, like those of Fargo, D. T., where sidewalks several hundred miles in extent were built at the expense of the county. In this way Fargo had sidewalks that extended for miles in every direction through the neighboring farms, and the county paid for them. Fargo has been striving ever since to live up to her sidewalks. Aside from this there is little similarity between Naples and Fargo. The old streets of Naples are nar row and crooked, and the houses are so high that a ripe pomegranate dropped from the roof on the plug hat of a passing tom ist is permanently impaired and the hat pros trated. Naples claims to be the leading lazzaroni vineyard of the world. We try to imitate her in New York, but we fail. We have poverty enough in New York and fluent, ex temporaneous beggars as well as more or less disease, but we have not been able so far to unite our poverty and disease in such a nay as to successfully imitate the picturesque lazzaroni of the east. Our poor people in America are too robust and our invalids are too many of them wealthy. So long as it is that way Europe and Asia will do our laz zaroni business in spite of all we can do to prevent it. We can get up a fair specimen to look at, but it lacks age and the air of travel as well as the pleasing malformations peculiar to the lazzaroni bijouterie of the old world. I sometimes think that the reason Naples so long retained her supremacy over other cities in this line was largely due to the stimula tion resulting from the close competition be tween Vesuvius and the local talent of the lazzaroni in the matter of eruptions. The population of Naples is nearly 500,000, but the annual rainfall I have been unable to obtain. If I can find out in time I will send it in my next letter. If you wish to send me the money for this piece and hold the article till I can ascertain what the rain fall is you may do so. J. G. The foregoing is written in such a plain, straightforward way, and contains so much information, that I am in doubt whether Mr. Gould wrote it or not, but possibly he has been »akmg something for his memory. Whether he has done so or not, it is safe to say that he has been taking something. The only way to keep Mr. Gould from taking something is to nail it firmly to the floor. In printing the letter I do it to help Mr. Gould, and wish to state that I do not hold myself responsible for any of the statements piartp therein.—Bill Nye in New York World. STORIES ABOUT MEN. tt Coat Tilton SO Cents to Hear Hi* Own Lectare. Theodore Tilton was about to lecture at a well known hall in Maine. He arrived at the door unattended, and inquired for the manager. He was informed that he was within, but could not be disturbed, as the lecture was about to commence. "Can I go in and speak to him?" he humbly asked of the highly important ticket taker. "Yes, if you have got half a dollar." Tilton produced the coin and passed into the hall to listeu to his own lecture. He en joyed the joke much, and said it was a good lecture and well worth the price of admis sion.—Fairfield Journal Grant'* Sorrel War Horse. "The first time I saw Gen. Grant to know him," said Maj. Osmun to a knot of story tellers, the other day, "was in the November of 1864. I was then attached to Hancock's headquarters, and was sent to carry a dis patch to Gen. Grant It was raining for all it was worth, and the mud about those Petersburg trenches was like^glue. Putting my horse to a gallop, I was getting over the ground at a good rate, and soon I mot and passed a solitary rider astride a little sorrel horse. The man's slouch hat was pulled down over his eyes, and the rain was cours ing in streams down on the poncho in which he was closely wrapped. A moment Int er I came up with quite a group of riders, and catching sight of a lot of gold braid, jumped at the conclusion that I bad struck some general's staff. I asked if t'hey knew where Gen. Grant was, and one of them said: "Why, boy, you've just passed him." "Without a word I wheeled my horse and dashed back to the solitary figure ahead. As I came up he seemed to take in the situation, for he said sharply: " 'Who are you looking for, young man?' " 'Are you Gen. Grant? I asked eagerly. " 'My name's Grant,' he said stiffly, hold ing out his hand for my dispatch. Then he said: " 'Why didn't you come to me at once? " 'i-r— " 'Well, what? " 'I didn't think you were Gen. Grant.' " 'You didn't? Why didn't you?' "I saw his eyes twinkle above his cigar, that must have gone out three or four weeks before, it looked so bad. So I ventured to tell the fact: " 'Because I didn't suppose Gen. Grant would ride such a looking horse as that.' "Ho burst out into a hearty laugh, and Gen. Badeau told me afterward that it was the first time for a week he had heard Grant laugh. The general receipted on the envelope for tho dispatch and dismissed me, saying: " 'The next time you are sent to Gen. Grant perbape you will know him.' "But after that I took my dispatches to the chief of staff."—Detroit Journal. A Joke on Burleigh. A story is told in the corridors of the Delavan which is "on" Hon. Henry G. Bur leigh, of Whitehall. He was seated on a sofa not long ago talking with Railroad Commis sioner Baker, when a well dressed young man stepped up to the telegraph desk aud began writing a dispatch. "See here, Burleigh," remarked Mr. Baker, suddenly, "I want to make a little bet with you." The surrounding politicians pricked up their ears. "What about?" asked the Whitehall wizard, curiously. "About a sure thing, of course," was the reply. "Do you see that young man at the telegraph desk and the nice seal skin gloves beside him? I want to bet you that he walks off when he has finished his business and for gets to take those gloves." "Nonsense," was the sage rejoinder. "He wouldn't forget anything so valuable." After a few minutes chaffing tin bet was made and the surrounding group drew nearer to watch the result. Mr. Burleigh looked skeptical and Mr. Baker contented. Finally the stranger buttoned his coat and turned to go, but he left the gloves. "Hold on," shouted Mr. Burleigh after the retreating stranger, "you have forgot ten"— "Sit down, Burleigh," said Mr. Baker calmly, "sit down. Those are my gloves." Then the watching multitude smiled a moist, odorous smile, and the bet was paid.— Albany Express._ "Whar Dat Veal?" Senator Lamar is reported as telling the following story of his experience at a political meeting in his own state soon after the war. He was one of the speakers, and alluding to the civil war, suggested as a parallel case the parable of the Prodigal Son and the joyful reception at his home when the naughty boy returned. He was succeeded by a negro, a Republican, who, aft*- some general remarks, paid his respects to Lamar's parallel "For giben!" said he. "Dey forgiben— dem briga diersl Why, dey'se come walkin' into de house an' bang de do' an' go up to do ol' man an' say: 'Whar dat veal?'"—New York Sun. Lincoln, Cullom and a Darkey. ^ Senator Cullom tells a story about a negro porter at Willard's hotel in Washington who was always obsequious in his attentions to him. One day the darkey looked up at him and said: "Boss, you look pow'ful like Marse Abe Lincoln. Didn't you nebber hab nobody tell you dat?' "Yes," replied the senator, "I have been told that; but you know they say Mr. Lincoln was tho homeliest man in the country." "Yes, I knows dat, but you do 'semble him most almighty much."—Detroit Journal. _ A Familiar Face. Guest (to hotel clerk)—I've met that gen tleman who just went out before somewhere. HI* face is very familiar, but to save my life I can't call his name. Clerk—His name is Smith; he is one of the officials at Auburn prison. Your bill is $4, *ir.—New York Sun. Severe Discipline. Boston Young Lady (to convict in peniten tiary)—What are you reading, man? Convict—A volume of Ouida, miss. Boston Young Lady (shocked)—Monsters! And do they really compel you to read Ouida, man?—New York Sun. Where Kansas Rules Supreme. A New York man has invented a process for making railroad cars out of wood pulp, but it takes a gam»» cyclone to make wood pulp out of railroad can.—Kansas City Star. A Precocious Answer. Minister—Well, Bobby, what do you expect to be when you grow up? Bobby (solemnly)—A man.—Drake'* Gen tleman's Magazine. BILL NYE ON TYPEWRITING. Ir £ He Gives Some Variegated Advice to a Correspondent. REAT as is my cor respondence now, I pause to jjeruse and place the following before the languish ing public: Glillivue Nigh, Esq; Respected Sir - • • • • DO yiou think that ! could GET ALONG iN new YORK? with mym. littLE.writER. type wi. writer I 1 — menu couldeot i write things for you out ,; pyy4444445ofm my own thoughts if you would FIRST THink theOtfm out? of course i can write — j4#hg trtaiiter than this when i had some good yumrus FRIEnd to be with 887766? now DOyou get off a 1 them droll 644:fc. , 7<v>things EVERY s SUN'dayHs it born in you?or is it just PLAIN bring ing UP:: Please excuse had spelling and bad cokxld .1 thought I would tell you it is raixe ing haere to daix? • SOgoodBIxe?? yours truly (dictated ) -- The above is, of course, more or less per personal, but the question is one which con cerns many other young men who may be thus afflicted. I therefore take the liberty of answering an inquiry publicly which I would otherwise regard as strictly confiden tial, suppressing the name, however, and the iirst paragraph, both of which read like the soliloquy of a "hell box" or the smothered ejaculations of a "pied form." To the correspondent, whose letter is cbove given, I might say that I believe there would be an opening here for him if he would give himself up to a certain class of work. Of course, he could hardly hope to enter the regular channels of commercial correspond ence with a typewriter that has such a pro nounced impediment in its speech as this one has, but could he not hope to get a job at Volapukat headquarters? Certainly there ought to be a place some where for one whose only trouble seems to be a kind of information of the vowels. There might be a future here for such a graphic and graceful style of writing, if it could be used in reporting telephonic re marks over crossed wires. The word paint ing and vulgar fractious are similar, and it might be made to arouse a good deal of in interest if properly worked up. Of course it would bo necessary that he should tone down some of his extravagant figures of speech and avoid overexertion of the punctuator, but with his wealth of full stops he might do well on a periodical, and his space work would certainly attract atten tion. Or he could go into the counting room of a man who did uot advertise and do as signment work. The tyjjewriter, in strong and willing hands, is smitier than the sword. I look for the typewriter to take the place of Indian oratory in our literature, and its tinkling notes will soon be heard, I hope, in homes where the one legged pen and the bottle of bluing all the writing now are doing. Come to tie metropolis $x:t)^&fm?$. Come with your abnormal: and your little tYpElwritER. Come with your startling style of English and your chaste method of obliterating space. Come and get acquainted with mR.sAgE and mR $$$$$. gOuLD. 11 Here you will meet mauy yumurus people who will amuse you to a high °. You will also meet Mr. aNthoNy cOmStocK, who will require you to drape all your figures in the following manner (8). Come to New York and get a new soft palate put into your typewriter and have ati operation performed on its tonsils. Come aud visit tho produce $$$lblblbbbl bblbbl Excllange. Come and see Wall pf'cl $$$Oo0^3jr street. Ride on our Elevated railway from BBZZZT***—(0)Xt'!&&&;:rd, street, to GGXXKKrrtt???BXJ£&Blickernex street. Visit the brig. Theodora, dam Tarantula straight for place, b. m. Rob Roy dam Ella Jackson horse races!! The more yon mix up with us tho more you will like us. We New Yorkers from Wyoming territory enjoy having people thrown among US. You would meet with a hearty welcome whether you came to grow up with our bactieria or to buy green goods. Cordiality is our one weakness. If a cordial greeting would not suit you you can take apollinaris water. With your uatural ten dency toward delirium tremens, perhaps that would bo best, any way. I used to be acquainted with a young man who wrote a beautiful hand $x:t%&fm?$, for that was before the days of typewriters. He would bring out his writing materials and his tongue and make a corkscrew pea cock swimming in a large cranberry marsh infested by loops and funny business, all without taking his pen off the paper. Ho was a thorough artist, with a lofty soul, but he could not spell He could construct a graceful swan with a halo of chirographical worms all around it, but nature and art had denied him the humbler joys of orthog raphy. He could make a lovely purple scroll with a green fringe to it and red eyed bobolinks, with heliotrope bosoms, perched on space and bearing in their bronzed talons yet other smaller scrolls that were as gracefifl as a doughnut horse, and on these scrolls would be written such glittering truths as these: "In Frendship's bright ger land, Please regard me as your Humbel fur getmenott," "Look up, press Onnerds & you will git there." But his style is robbed of much of its grace and beauty by immersing it in cold and pulse less type. He was a bold and fearless writer and his hands were ever red with the blood of murdered English. He broke down the high walls established by the brainy but discon nected and flighty Noah Webster, and spelled such words as "pillgartic" in a way that kept his finer writings out of the magazines. But when he assassinated the English he made no attempt to conceal his methods. He wrote under everything: "Executed with a pen." And he recked not. Not a reck. Whether you can ever rise to such a posi tion with your type writer, Mr. $x:t>£&fm?$, I do not know. I hope you may. Your orthography is rich with improvisations, roulades and trills. Running through all your work I notice an air of gentle badinage, bon homme, persiflage and pi You have given utterance in your letter to thoughts which I could not think without the aid of outside influences. I could not evolve such sentiments without the stimulus of a fall from a high b uilding or the exhilaration of a railway collision. It is the unexpected in your humor which gives it its chief charm. No one can tell, when you start out, whether you will soar away among tbe asterisks and space, or get involved in a scuffle between lower case and capital, in which you will get injured, morti fication and exclamation set in and you lose your life. I am glad you wrote to me w ith your little type writer, and though I believe that you can do better than you did, fmd that as a matter ol lact Is really an assumed name, your letter has given mc much enjoyment, and I print it this morn ing with great pleasifre. SO. goOd BXve biLl nXve —New York World. Do Americans Work Too Hard? It is said that the American people work barder to obtain the "almighty dollar" than any other people or nation iu the world, while they are more lavish in spending when they get it This may be true or not, but they certainly get more dollars for the same work than any other people, and they are uot gen erally penuries in spending them for their own comfort and pleasure, or mean in ap propriating them for charity and all good works. It is certainly true, also, that many pro fessional and business men, lawyers doctors, merchants, etc., including some public offi cials, especially in our large cities, work too hard and destroy their health, by both mental and physical exertion, protracted for too long a time without proper recreaction. The workingmen and laboring classes also com plain of working too hard, and the great questions of tbe day are thorn of "labor and wages," which claim attention through "strikes," labor organizations, socialistic and anarchical demonstrations. The question, "Do Americans work too hard?" requires a distinction to be made be tween natives and foreignsra who form so large a portion of the population of the United States. Foreigners prin cipally perform what is considered the hardest work, building railroads, mining coal, and other laborious employment, and whether they work too hard, in fact, or harder than Americans generally in other occupa tions, is a question which might be considered by itself. They probably do not work harder in this than in their own country or they would not continue to come here in such large numbers. Both Americans and for eigners, however, will probably claim that they have to work "too hard."—City Comp troller Loew in The Epoch. Cold Snaps. Now is the time to lay in your thermome ters. They are way down.—New Britain Record. It was well said of an ill assorted couple that they were like two thermometers from the fact that they never agreed.—Boston Bul letin. We are forcibly reminded in our daily walks that tho year is not the only thing that is slipping away.—Yonkers Statesman. Mrs. Bloggs—What is the use of all this snow? Bloggs—Snow use.—Burlington Free Press. We might, perhaps, have more agreeable weather if we should substitute coal for mercury in our thermometers. Coal is going up much higher than mercury.—Exchange. Every coal dealer believes that some thing is to be gained by weighting.—New Haven News. Many poor people find themselves in a peck of trouble when they try to procure a bushel of coal at the present high rates.— Boston Gazette. Gagely—By Jove, Skinnem, I cant see why you don't keep your office warmer. Skinnem—Can't afford to; coal's too high. Gagely—But it's just the same when coal is cheap. Skinnem—Oh, I don't make any thing then, and have to economize.—Life. The saddest thing about the Dakota bliz zard is the mournful fact that an Uncle Tom's Cabin company, with two "Topsys" and two "Lawyer Marks," which was per forming in that territory, escaped being frozen to death.—N orristown Herald. His Own Children. Not long since there was a crowd of ex cited darkies in an Austin alley, gataered around two negro boys who had clinched each other and were fighting away for dear life on the ground. There was rne negro man present, and he urged the combatants not to give up. "Gouge him in do eye, Bill!" "Sam, if you give in I'll tan yer hide for yer. If you whips Bill, Ise got a quarter for yer." A well dressed gentleman stopped .and said to the negro man: "You ought to be ashamed of yourself to encourage those' boys to fight." "Why, Lor, boss," was tho response, "dem's my own childrens."—Texas Siftings. Society in Philadelphia. A member of The Philadelphia Call staff received an invitation to call upon a friend the other evening, and was considerably mystified when he saw in the lower left hand corner tho following letters in bold faced type, "C. O. B. K." His friends were ques tioned as to their meaning, but none of them had ever seen them used that way, and ho was compelled to wait until the party who sent it should clear away the mystery. "What do those letters mean?" he was asked. "Come or be killed," said he.—Philadelphia CaU. _ A Nice Little Christian. Fashionable Rector (to little girl)—So you love to go to church, Flossie, and be a good little girl? Flossie—Yes, indeed, Mr. Whitechoker. Rector—Do you know many of the little girls who belong to the church? Flossie—No, sir; not very many. I only care to know those who sit in the middle aisle.—New York Sun. Cheaper. "Let me give you some advice," said Mr. Clarence Knowles, "about sodding grass for your lawn. Don't sod it. Don't use grass at alL Buy Persian rugs and cover your lawns with them. You can get them for a hundred dollars apiece, and a hundred or so will cover your lawn. They are quite as pretty as grass and very much less expensivfe."—Atlanta Constitution. SnicidaL Mrs. Langerfelt—I took your prescription, doctor, but it hasn't seemed to do me a bit of good. Dr. Boles—Did you disguise it in a bit of orange, as I told you? Mrs. L.—No; you see it was late last night, and instead of sending out for an orange, I used a slice of fruit cake.—Tid Bits. A Present for the Boss. First Messenger Boy—What's yer hurry cully? Second Messenger Boy—Us boys wanted to give the boss a nice present for his birthday, so we all chipped in and I've just been out to buy it. It's an awful purty motto, all hand worked the man said; it's bine and red and got a big gold fringe on it. Guess he'll hang it in the office where we can all see it. "That's nice. What does tbe motto sayl" "The more haste the less speed."—Omaha World. THE LITTLE PEOPLE. A «»*11 Hoy'» Anxiety Not to Know Everything. A gentleman once saw a boy peeling the bark from one of his choice trees with a hatchet. The gentleman tried to cateh the boy, but the latter was too quick for him, so the farmer changed his tactics. "Come here, my little son," he said, in a soft, flute like voice with counterfeited friendliness, "cone here to me a minute. I want to tell you something." "Not yet," replied the recip ient, "little boys like me don't need to knew everything."—Texas Siftings. The Wiggle» of Wakefulnes*. Some expressions are all the more forcible for having sprung spontaneously into exist ence without the fostering aid of grammar. Lillian had an uncomfortable way of waking before light, and expecting the family W rise with her at what theÿ considered an un bearably early hour. "Lillian, you must lie still ana try to sleep," said her mother one morning, when this early bird began to chirp. "I'll try," said the child, and so she did, but it was to no purpose. Iu five minutes she tgas sitting up in bed playing with her little pink toes. This time her mother, grow ing impatient, as sleepy people have been known to do, summarily extinguished her under the bedclothes, saying, in despair: "Lillian. I told you to try once more to go to sleep?" "I know it, mamma," said truthful Lillian, "and I did try, but the wake wiggles in me so I can't keep still 1"—Youth's Companion. Another Daniel Solution. "Willie is a little Scotch boy who lives in Glasgow. He is 5 years old, and has not yet learned to like "peace brose," which in his country is given to children to cool the blood. "Go on, WiMie, you must eat it." said his papa one day at breakfast. "But I don't like it, dada," replied the boy. "That doesn't matter; you must eat it. It will do you good and make you fat like Daniel, who lived on it when he was a boy." "Did he? Was that the man who was in the den of lionsä" "Yes, that was the man." "Well, then," replied the lad, scornfully,, " I don't wonder the lions didn't eat him." ' The smell of pease brose is not by any means pleasant.—Harper's Young People Ways and Means. A little boy, Gussie, where I live, has an aunt who goes away in summer and live9 with him in winter. Sho was coming back, but the room she used to have I have now. One day he asked me if my husband would feel bad if I should die. I told him I thought he would. Tl.en he asked nie if I would feel bad if my husltand died. I told him I would. He thought a few minutes. Then he said: "Well, if God would take the both of you A.uft Delia could have the room."—Boston jrlobe. _ A Valuable Employe. "Miss Florry," said tho employer, "you have been in my establishment as bookkeeper for five years, and I havo raised your salary each year until now. I am paying you all I can well afford, and I am afraid I shall not be able to raise the figures for next year any higher than they are now—$1,200." "You have been very ki id to me, Mr. Plummer," replied the young lady, "but I have been offered $1,S00 by Swagg & Co. to take their books next year." "The underhanded sneaks ! Trying to take my employes from me, are they? Well, they can't do it. I'll give you $1,400, Miss Florry, and you can snap your fingers at Swagg & Co." "Fourteen hundred dollars is a liberal offer, Mr. Plummer, and I am obliged to you, but Shroat & Belknap sent mo word yesterday that they would pay me $1,500 if I would go into their office as head bookkeeper." "Shroat & Belknap, hey I They're a pretty pair of sharks. They'll give you $1,500, will they? I'll see'em in Los Angeles first!" ex claimed Mr. Plummer. "See hero, Miss Florry, I'll do better than that. I'll take you into the firm. I'll marry you ! Tell Shroat & Belknap you are engaged. Ha! ha I I'll marry you, Florry 1" "Oh, Mr. Plummer (demurely), I thank you sincerely for your offer, but I can never be anything more than a daugh" "Wha—what!" gasped the head of the firm. "I have promised to marry your son Harry, Mr. Plummer." (Red tiro and slow curtain.)—Chicago Tribune.__ "Humor" sn<l "Foolishness." A writer of humorous stories was stopping at a summer hotel where he was admired by two small boys who had read his tales. A real live writer was evidently a curiosity to the youngsters. Finally, one of tho boys plucked up courage to speak to him. "Are you Mr.-, who writes stories for the-?" The writer acknowledged his identity with becoming modesty, and tho bo 3 T , after a mo ment's reflection, continued his investigar tions: "How much do they pay you for one of those stories?" "From $20 to $50," replied the writer, kindly, and the youngster seemed buried iu thought Suddenly the question came like a shot from a gun: "Well, wouldn't they pay you more if your stories were not so foolish ?" The writer was too taken aback to answer, but he has been thinking over the matter ever since, and vainly trying to draw the line between "humor" and "foolishness."—Har per's Bexar. _ Rabbit Plague in America. In mauy portions of Idaho, Nevada and Wyoming the rabbits are so numerous that they are becoming almost as great a plague as in Australia. The proprietors of a large ranch are giving boys five cents apiece for killing them, and some of the boys earn as much as $5 each per day. The dead rabbits are fed to hogs to fatten them.—Western Letter. _ The white ties worn by New York waiters are in most cases furnished by the house, and when the waiters are uot on duty the ties are left with the head waiter. A Long Training. Brown—Do you know how long Robinson has been keeping house? Smith—No; but it must be a good many years. I took dinner with him the other di^r, and he carved a duck without spilling it on the floor.—Harper's Bazar. Saved Himself. Miss Gushington (enjoying a sleigh ride)—I think you have a lovely horse, Mr. De Lyla. About what does such a fine animal cost? Mr. De Lyle—Two dollars an how—or— er —yes, that horse is worth about $800, Miss Gushington.—The Epoch.