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■'ik.'O Volume xxiii. Helena, Montana, Thursday, February 28, 1889/ No. 14 ^VÎtleeltli, Kjcraltl. R. E. FISK D. W. FISK A. J. FISK. Publisher s and Proprietors. Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana --o—— Rates ot Subscription. WEEKLY °HEKALD: One Year. (In wlvance).............................$3 00 ti!x Months, (In advance)............................... 1 75 Three Months, (In advance)........................... 1 00 When not paid for in advance the rate will be Four Dollars per yeari Postage, In all cases, Prepaid. DAILY HERALD: Pity Subscribers,delivered by carrier $1.00 a month One Year, by mall, (In advance)................. 89 00 H1x Months.'by mall, (In advance)............... 5 00 Three Months, by mall, (In advance)........... 2 50 if not paid In advance, 812 per annum. [Entered at the Postoffice at Helena as second class matter.] ##- All communications should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publishers, Helena, Montana. flow She Recognized Him. There is one story on "Tim" CampbeU which he himself relates and which has not yet seen the light of day; a story the point of which "Tim" has probably not seen himself yet, for he tells it in an innocent way, which, of course, adds much to its flavor: Mr. Campbell has a strong appreciation of his dignity. It does not oppress—it sustains and comforts him. Not long ago he was walking through the corridors of the house wing of the Capitol when a woman spoke to him and said : "Will you see if Mr. Glover is in the house?" Mr. Campbell drew himself to his full height. "Madame," said he, "there are gintlemen around here to do that thing;" and he em phasized his remark with a sweeping gesture, which included in its scope the entire force of house employes, from the clerk to the door keepers. The little woman looked up into Mr. Camp bell's face. "I'm Mr. Glover's wife," she said. "I thought you were," said the Honorable "Tim," in a tone that showed that the fact did not impress him very seriously. "You're Mr. Campbell, are you not?" said Mrs. Glover. "I am," said the Honorable "Tim," in his most impressive way. "I thought you were," said Mrs. Glover, quietly, as she turned and walked away.— Wash. Cor. New York Tribune. He TVasn't to Be Outdone. Charlie Smiley is full of stories. He tells one of a street gamin who held out his ragged cap before Lord Randolph Churchill and Sir Charles Beresford as they came slowly down the steps of a London club. "What are you begging for, boy?" asked Beresford, as he no ticed the little fellow. The boy said he had nothing else to do. "See here," said Lord Randolph, "if you'll take that stone and hit that policeman in the back of the head I'll give you half a crown." Nothing loath the boy picked up the stone and let her go. His aim was true and the "bobby" turned in wrath, chased the gamin and captured him. Shaking him savagely he de manded why he should insult the majesty of the law, as represented in his person, so grossly. The boy whined that the two gentlemen, who were looking on very much amused, had offered him half a crown to do it, and he would give him one and six of it if ho would release him. Dragging the boy up to the two men he demanded to know what they meant, and asked their names. Sir Charles Beresford handed the "bobby" his card. When be read it ho humbly touched his hat and begged pardon. Then he asked Sir Randolph Churchill's name. He, too, handed his card, and its perusal had the same effect. "You great gents must have your larks," he said, touching his helmet. "Now, sir," he said, turning to the gamin, "whatfi your name?" The boy looked up at him, after eyeing the great men, and said, sticking his thumbs in the armholes of his ragged vest, "I'm Lord Salisbury."—Chicago Herald. A Father's Knowledge. "Papa," said the inquisitive youth, "what causes malarial fever?" "Don't you know that, Johnnie?" "No, papa," said the boy, adding some suspicion, "doyou?" "Why, certainly, my son." "Whut is it?" "Malaria, of course."—Merchant Traveler. with A Lucky Man. "What a lucky chap Quimby was!" "How so?" "Why fortune played into his hands all his life." "Yes, but ho died in his prime." "That's where his luck still stayed with him. When ho died coflins were selling at cost."—Nebraska State Journal. Not Suited. Young Wife (looking through cottage)— Well, about the location, sir? Landlord—Perfectly healthy, madam. I'D guarantee that. Young Wife—Oh, that will never da George—that is, my husband—is a doctor, you know.—Munsey's Weekly. He Drew the Line. The assembled guests in the drawing room hear Tommy's voice outside, and this is what he says: "I don't care if there is tumpany; I won't have mv face washed with spit."—Pick Mo Uo. It* In a Terrible Condition. Wife—Where are you going, John! getting very late. Husband (who has been reading a patent medicine almanac)—I'm going to see a doctor if I live to find one.— Harper's Bazar. An Apt Comparison. A kiss by telephone is said to be something like starting out for a clam bake dinner ana getting nothing but fog.—The Wasp. But He Is Never Applauded. The dentist may not be much of a politician, but ho knows how to take the stump.—Hotel Mail. Pleased with the Compliment. Stranger (perforce obliged to take din ner at Aunt Dinah's)—Auntv, these pies are not the kind my mother used to make. Aunt Dinah (very much pleased)—No, indeed, sah, I spec s not. Will yo' hab anudder piece?—New York Sun. LOVER OF HORSES PREACHES AGAINST THE CHECK REIN. Carrying an Oil Painting in His Hand Ha Goes About the Streets Lecturing Driv ers, aud Showing Them the Cruelty of High Checking—Experiences. "Down with the check rein!" Sucl^ is Jhe jvar cry chosen by a gentle man of Scandinavian extraction whose name is C. W. Petersen. On Sundays, and on week days, too, h§ may be seen at various street corners talking to coach men, teamsters and owners of horses. He holds an oil painting in his hands and shows it to the people he a^drçs^çs as a^ illustration of his arguments. The picture represents a horse, a swan and a man, all checked up high ; and bears the following peculiar inscription; T 'When under high pressure of low pride try the check rein on yourself." Mr. Petersen is laughed at and jeered at by tho people he addresses. lie is often taken for a crank and told roughly to mind his own business, but with the obstinacy and perseveranco of Peter the Hermit, ho goes on preaching a crusade against the check rein. He is one of those characters who cannot be discouraged by obstacles, and who, haviner once taken up an idea, will follow it to tho end. "Laugh at me, take me for n fool," Mr. Petersen says, "but I will stick to my business, and shall denounce the check rein whenever there is a chance." Mr. Petersen is not a member of the Humane society. Ho is no professional friend of animals, hi fact, he minds his own business every workday in the week. But as soon as lie feels himself at liberty to spare an hour or two he takes his pic ture and goes out on the street to carry on his eccentric propaganda. He is a friend of tho horses, and he suffers when he sees them suffer. REGARDLESS OF COMFORT. "Fashion is the curse of this age," said Mr. Petersen; "people will follow it re gardless of comfort. They will put mountains on their backs and call it the bustle. They Will torture themselves in order to comply with certain forms de clared to be the fashion. When people torture themselves I do not care. Let them suffer, they ought to know better, I then think to myself. But when I see helpless a nim als tortured for the sake of complying with ridiculous demands of fashion, I get indignant and cannot stand it. 'The horse is one of the most beauti ful animals, because of his fine propor tions and graceful, curved outlines. Now look at that picture. What do you see there? You see the laws of nature vio lated. You see a machine put up on the horse in order to do away with the curved line his arched neck forms. ' "That is the way I begin my conversa tion with the people handling horses and using the check rein. "I tell them that this check rein is not only disfiguring the horse but also injur ing his health. It robs him of comfort, it makes him nervous, and ho can't see anything, because of being forced to look upward unto the sky. Then I point to the swan, and ask the coachman what that noble bird would look like if a check rein would he put over her head. Then I point to the checked up man, and ask the coachman to tell me how he would feel If he were checked up in a like manner. " 'How would you feel, man?' I say. 'The first few minutes you would proba bly endure this constraint without much complaint. But then you would begin to kick. In a short time your neck would begin to ache, and your mouth would be filled with blood from the fruitless efforts to get the head down. You would be come restless and begin to toss your head just as your horse is doing it now. How would you feel if, while the sun were blinding your eyes, with a burden to draw or carry, unable to see wuere to step, you were whipped into a run, into a ditch or depression in the rough street pavement? Would you feel comfortable? That's why you often see fine horses harnessed to elegant carriages paw vigorously, champ the bit, toss the head, and turn tee neck. They want to loosen the check, HOW THE DRIVER TAKES IT. "The driver smiles or laughs, or stam mers something. He thinks I am a queer fellow, and goes on to explain that he would not mind loosening the check, but the people who employ him were opposed to it, want more style, and so on. " 'Well, then,' I say, 'call your people's attention to the fact that the horses are being tortured by the check rein. Tell them that the horses would be killed in a short time because of the silly fashion.' "I thus go on lecturing. Often the drivers and coachmen really follow my advice and remedy the thing. But often the peoplo are stubborn and do not care to listen to what I say. "I have discovered that my painting helps mo a good deal in my work. I took it ono Sunday to the People's church at Me Vickers. There was a long row of carriages with fine horses standing in front of tho theatre. The horses wer® all checked up. I showed the picture to the coachmen. They laughed and fired at me all kinds of siÜy remarks. Finally a young couple drove up in a carriage to tho theatre. The horse was restless. I showed my picture to the young gentle man and explained to him the reason of the horse's restlessness. The young gen tleman thought he had a fool from the insane asylum before him. The uni formed coachmen stood around grinning and awaiting developments. "Well, 1 gave them a practical lesson right there on the spot. I unchecked the horse, and there lie stood quietly and comfortably, showing no signs of being unmanageable. Tho check having been loosened tho horse dropped his head. His neck assumed its natural arched form. He at once became an object of admira tion for all the drivers. The young gen tleman thanked me for my advice, and the lady that was with him thought that my picture was the best scheme devised for the welfare of horses. "It is only a few weeks since I began to use my picture, and I find it much more eloquent than words. Some time in the near future I shall also have other pictures copied and painted. I'll show them a horse in its natural position; a pair of horses, one checked and another loose; a span of horses, easy aud grace ful, because of their not being over checked; and a pair of work horses with check reins on. Tho pictures will be more telling than words, and tho crusade against tho check rein will make rapid progress."—Chicago Tribune. A NEW BRITISH IRONCLAD. Just The Formidable Cruiser Australia, Launched at Glasgow. The British have launched another monster of the sea, an armored, well armed and belted cruiser of 5.000 tons and 9,400 horse power, which is supposed to combine all the excellences of all gun boats before it and some new features of destruction. This is the Australia, THÉ AUSTRALIA. which, like the great Galatea, was built and engined by R. Napier & Sons, of Glasgow. When one contrasts such a destroyer as the Australia with the gunboats of even a few years ago, it is easy to believe that the time is at hand when offensive war fare by sea will be impossible, as each nation will have coast cruisers capable of destroying any vessels that can come any distance to attack it. The Australia's dimensions are: Length between perpen diculars, 300 feet; extreme breadth, 56 feet; depth, 87 feet: and displacement of 5,000 tons at 19 feet draught when in normal fighting condition, out this may be increased to 0,000 tons when extra coal supplies are in. The belt which protects the water line consists of steel faced compound armor ten inches thick, strongly supported by steel and teakwood backing, terminating at each end in an athwartship iron bulk head sixteen inches thick—this to stop end-on shots. At the top of this armor comes the protective steel deck, and all the machinery of vital importance is under this deck; above is lighter armor plating set at the proper angle to deflect shot, and in the surface rests the iron plated conning tower. The armament consists of two long range 22 ton breech loaders, forward and aft, with central pivot mountings; ten 6 inch guns on the broadsides; eight 0 pound and eight 8 pound, quick tiring guns, and six torpedo tubes. The engines are triple expansion, 7,500 horse power in ordinary, but capa ble of being raised 1,000 horse power higher with perfect safety. Buoyancy is insured by minute subdivision of the under water part of the hull into 130 separate water tight cells and compart ments. ments. REPRESENTATIVE WEAVER. The Man Who Ran for President as a Greenbacker—The Recent Deadlock. Gen. James B. Weaver, whose attitude in the house of representatives regard ing tho Oklahoma reservation has re cently attracted 60 much attention, has the reputation of being one of the best informed men on parliamentary rules in the present congress. He is also a good lawyer and a good talker. He acquired his national reputation in 1880, when he was nominated for president by the Greenback party. In tho election he re ceived about 350, 000 votes. He was, before his presi dential nomina tion, a member of the Forty-sixth congress. . Gen. Weaver was born fifty-six years ago in Day ton, O., and after having a common school education in his boyhood he was graduated J. B. weaver in 1889. from the law school of the Ohio university at Cincinnati in 1854. In 1801 he enlisted as a private in the Second Iowa infantry, and was elected first lieutenant of Company G of that regiment. He was promoted to the rank of major on Oct. 3, 1802, and com missioned colonel Oct. 12,1802,the colonel and lieutenant colonel having both been killed at the battle of Corinth. He was brevetted brigadier general of volunteers "for gallantry on the field," to date from March 13, 1804. Gen. Weaver is one of the editors of The Iowa Tri bune, published at Des Moines. In 1800 he was elec ted district attor ney of the Second Judicial district of Iowa, and in 1807 he was ap S ointed by Presi ent Johnson as sessor of internal/ revenue for the; First district of \ Iowa. He filled this position forj_ B> weaver in six years. After having served in the Forty-sixth congress as a Republican, he was elected to the Forty-ninth congress by a fusion of Greenbackers and Democrats, as was also the case when he was elected to the Fiftieth congress. In 1880, when the writer met Mr. Weaver during his stumping tour as nominee for the presidency on the Greenback ticket, he wore a full beard. Of late years he lias been content with less hair on his face, and few people would recognize the clean cut, mus tached face of the man who alone dead locked the United States house of repre sentatives for several days as the full bearded, brainy man of 1880 who led the forlorn hope for tho Greenback party. Perhaps the recognition would come, however, upon hearing him speak. 1880. Just the Man. Attorney for Defense (to man drawn as juror)—Permit me to ask you, Mr. Idunno, if you have conscientious scru ples against capital punishment. Juror—Hey? Attorney—Are you opposed, on prin ciple, to the execution of condemned criminals? Juror—Huh? Attorney (hastily)—We'll take this man, your honor.—Chicago Tribune. It Is to Re Hoped That He Took the Hint. "Do you like poetry, Nellie?" "Ye9, George." "What kind do you like best?" "Well, whenever I see you walking I admire the poetry of motion."—Nebraska State Journal. STORIES ABOUT MEN. How the Duke of Wellington Got Even with Some Practical Jokers. It may interest some of your readers to hear a characteristic story of the great duke, which was told me by a gentleman princi pally concerned in the affair. The Duke of Wellington at ono period of his life was rather fond of telling a certain pigsticking story, and persons who knew of this weakness uàed to lead the conversation so that the great man might have an oppor tunity of relating his favorite anecdote. Bat at length he became suspicious, and any al lusion to tho subject made him extremely angry About this time—nearly sixty years ago—the duke was staying at Belvoir. One of the visitors at the castle had never heard anything about the pigsticking adventure, and was easily persuaded that the duke would be pleased if he were asked to tell his famous story. Accordingly one morning after breakfast in the long gal lery, when seated not far from the duke, the gentleman ventured to tell his grace how much he should like to hear some of his ex periences of Indian sport. At first the duke was inclined to bo seriously offended, but looking round, and discovering from the faces of the company that the inquirer had been prompted, and that the re quest was made in perfect good faith, he quietly got up, and, drawing his arm through the gentleman's, said: "I shall be delighted to tell you all you want to know, but let us come to the end of the gal lery, where we can talk quietly." A pleasant half hour's conversation ensued, and it was not till some hours later that the intended victim Jleamed what a triumph he had achieved over tho practical jokers, and what a quiet rebuke had been administered to them.—The Athenæum. No Use for Receptions. The social phase of public life which so many find the chief delight of high station is not a source of pleasure to Senator Coke. He does not feel at home at balls and receptions. Just prior to the president's New Year's re ception, when it was the social event agitat ing Washington people, a brother senator re marked to the Texan: "Coke, I suppose you are going to the re ception F' "Well, I don't know," was the reply. "I haven't made up my mind." "Oh, you ought to go," urged the senator to Coke. "Yes," said tho latter, "I suppose I ought, but I hate those receptions, those crowds. I don't find room enough to get about, and am always in somebody's way, or somebody's in my way Now, the last time I was at one of the big receptions I got off in a corner where I thought I was out of the way. Pretty soon along came a lady dressed in style. She com menced tc bow and smile at me, and though I did not know her I bowed and smiled back. There she stood bowing and smiling, and then I noticed that she was pulling at her dress that trailed over the floor. I noticed a young fellow standing behind her, and so I reached over and, shaking him by the shoulder, said: 'Why don't you get off the lady's dress? 1 Well, she looked straight at my feet, and, by George, I was standing on her dress my self. St. Louis Globe-Democrat. Balzac's Serious Mistake. The proposed Balzac monument gives rise to an enormous number of anecdotes apropos of the great writer in the French press. Here is a good one from among them. The late Baron James Rothschild was always on ex cellent terms with Balzac, who dedicated more than one novel to him. Once, when he was obliged to make a trip to Germany, and when, as often happened with him, he was in money difficulties, Balzac went to the baron, who, with his usual benevolence, advanced him the sum of 3,000f., giving him also a letter of recommendation to his nephew at Vienna. Tho letter was unsealed, according to custom. Balzac read it, found it cold, poor and unworthy of him, and never took it to the nephew. Re turning to Paris he went to see Baron Roths child. "Well," said the latter, "have you 6een my nephew?" Balzac proudly said that he had kept the letter. "I am sorry fo r you," said the baron; "have you got it with you?" "Yes, parbleu —here it is." "Observe t.hfa little hieroglyphic below the signature; it would have opened a credit of 25,000 francs for you at the Vienna Arm." Balzac bit his nails and said nothing more.—Pall Mall Ga zette. A Story About Du Maurier. In appearance Mr. Du Maurier bears a striking resemblance to Mr. Alma Tadema. This likeness has given rise to many amusing complications. Some time ago, at a dinn er party, he happened to sit next to a daughter of his host. "I cannot understand," remarked the young lady, "how people can be so ab surd as to mistake you for Mr. Tadema. To me the likeness is very slight" A little later she said: "Oh, I bought your photograph the other day. Would you mind— er —putting your autograph to it?" Mr. Du Maurier ex pressed his willingness, and later on in the evening the young lady conducted him to a writing table and handed him the photo graph for his signatum Mr. Du Maurier looked at it, sighed, and then laid it very gently on the table. "That," he said, "is Mr. Alma Tadema's portrait''—London Globe. The Story of a Country Town. 'Are you still in the real estate business at Boom ville ?" "Yes." "How's business?" "Bad. I haven't been able to borrow a dol lar for a month."—Nebraska State Journal. Under a Fictitious Name. After a soldier has served Lis five years' term of enlistment, and received an hon orable discharge under a fictitious name, it is of no use to him if he returns to his home, and if he re-enlists within thirty days under his proper name ha gets $12 less a year than he would if he had orig inally enlisted uuder his proper name. It is tho same in the navy.—Newark Journal. It is said that the Bavarian royal family costs the people over 5,600,000 marks, or about $1,400,000 a year. THE NEW SUSPENSION BRIDGE. History of Famous Structure Destroyed by Storm. The new suspension bridge at Niagara Falls, which was swept away by the re cent great 6torm, has been confounded by many with the great railroad suspen sion bridge. It was only, however, a carriage-and foot bridge. It was built in 1872, and was a quarter of a mile long and 190 feet above tno water—one of the loftiest bridges in the United States. I V THE BRIDGE BEFORE THE STORM. Visitors at Niagara Falls usually crossed to Canada on this bridge, which afforded a superb view. Far up the river, on the left, could bo seen the great cataract, with its mists below and capping rain bow. Below the bridge, on the right, could be seen the leaping rapids, like turbulent seas on a rocky shore. The bridge, on fine days, was usually crowded with visitors, and those who take a look at Niagara once every season, of whom there are many, will for a time miss it very much, although it is soon to be re built. It will be remembered, from the tele graphic reports at the time, how tre mendously strong the wind was at the Falls. A man who crossed the bridge on his knees, clinging to the woodwork, five minutes before it was carried away, ad the buttons of his coat blown off, so furious was the gale. FATHER ALESSANDRO GAVAZZI. His Death, Lately Announced, Closed an Eventful Life. The recent death of Father Alessandro Gavazzi brings back vividly the events of Italian history for the last forty years. Gavazzi was born in 1809—the year of Abraham Lincoln's birth—at Bologna, which was then a city in the papal states. He enteret! a monastery when he was but 15 years of age, and at 21 was professor of rhetoric in Naples, and shortly after held the chair of belles lettres at Leghorn. He began to speak in behalf of reform, and by nis eloquence soon acqüired so much power as to alarm Gregory XVI, then pope, and Gavazzi was confined by the pontiff in a convent for a year. In 1848, when the Milanese were struggling against Austrian oppression, and news of the Austrian defeat in Lombardy came to Rome, the students called on Gavazzi to deliver a funeral oration on the fallen patriots of the Pantheon. In this oration he did much to arouse the people to arms. Twenty-five thousand patriots volun teered to drive the Au s t r i a n from Italy. Ga vazzi held the rank of chaplain general, and was virtually leader of the army. He took part in sev eral Battles, but his force was obliged to capitu late at Vicenza. Gavazzi went to Tuscany and spoke so fervently in Florence that he was expelled by the officers of the church from the city. They arrested him, but his popularity was so great that at Viterbo the people attached his guard and liberated him. When Gari Ealdi's republic was proclaimed in 1849 Gavazzi went to Rome and was appointed chaplain general of the army. For a time Garibaldi and Gavazzi held their own against France, Spain, Austria and Naples. Gen. Oudinot with 50,000 French troops was routed by the Italians, and then turning on the king of Naples the; thrashed him so soundly that a Spanis force just landed did not dare to ap proach Rome. The Italians were over powered at last and Rome fell Gavazzi escaped to England, where he remained for ten years in exile. In England the man whose life has been so eventful took up the quiet life of a teacher of Italian. In 1851 he pub lished his memoirs. In 1852 he visited the United States and spoke against the Roman hierarchy. He also spoke in Canada, where he was mobbed. In 1859 he joined Garibaldi in Italy in the Sicilian campaign which ended in the annexation of Naples. GAVAZZI. a annexation of Naples. CoL Robert G. Ingersoll's Idea. Most people regard those who violate the law with hatred. They do not take into consideration the circumstances. They do not believe that man is pernetu ally acted upon. They throw out of con sideration the effect of poverty, of neces sity, and, above all, of opportunity. For these reasons they regard criminals with feelings of revenge. They wish to see them punished. They want them impris oned or hanged. They do not think tho law has been vindicated unless somebody has been outraged. I look at these things from an entirely different point of view. I regard these people who are in the clutches of the law not only as unfortu nates, but, for the most part, as victims. You may call them victims of uaturo, or of nations, or of governments; it makes no difference, they are victims. Under the same circumstances the very persons who punish them would be punished. But whether the criminal is a victim or not, tho honest man, tho industrious man, has tho right to defend tho product of his labor. lie who sows and plows should be allowed to reap, and he who endeavors to tako from him his harvest is what we call a criminal; audit is the business of society to protect the honest from tho dis honest.—New York World Interview. A Better tv tty. A lady's magazine tells "How to Stain Floors." A cheaper way is to take up the carpets and give the baby a bottle of ink to play with.—Norristown Herald. a LOVE ON A PLATFORM. A Turnover Pie. The other day at dinner papa was banded a piece of pie which had been accidentally in verted on the plate. Mamma remarked: "If papa eats that pie that way I'm afraid he will turn upside down." Six-year-old immedi ately spoke up: "Then the pie will te? right side up, won't it, papa?"—Babyhood. Cutting Down Expenses. Miss Dovey—Why did you bring a coupe to take me to the theatre, Mr Simpson? I'd just as soon go in a car. Mr. Simpson—1 wish I'd known that an hour ago, Miss Dovey. But we'U go without 6upper and make up tho difference in that way.—Buff: 'o Courier. A Dime Museum Romance Which I« Sud denly Interrupted. "Flossie, I yield to tho magic of your charms. I lay my heart and my fortune at your feet." The eager, passionate voice was that of the living skeleton. He wa3 addressing the fat woman. "I would cherish you, O so tenderly, Flo# sie," he went on, pleadingly. "Give me the right to shield and protect you from the perils of life's tempestuous journey—to stand be tween you and the barbed shaft of malice, the vöiomcms tooth of slander, and the stuffed club of injustice." "Lycurgus," replied the fat woman, with downcast eyes and a tremor in her voice that shook the room, while a blush suffused her fair cheek and cast a pinkish glow on the cage of performing snakes, "this comes upon me so unexpectedly, so embarrassingly, that I scarcely" "Flossie," said the living skeleton gently, "forgive mo if I have shocked you by the suddenness of my avowal Yet you must have seen that I have appeared more ill at ease in your presence and less self possessed, less haughty and dignified, if l may so ex press myself, for sorno months past than you formerly knew me to be." "Ï have observed it, lycurgus," she replied, "but I attributed it to—to liver complaint— or—or corna. I am so inexperienced, you know, Lycurgus," she continued softly; "1 unused to tho ways of men that 1 —I''^— 3 . "My darling!" ho exclaimed with startling energy, "your maidenly hesitation, your art less and innocent timidity, only deepen the passion that possesses me so entirely and con firm me in tho resolve to win you. Permit me I" With an effort that swelled the veins on his forehead and nearly broke his back Lycurgus picked up one of her gloves that had fallen to the floor and replaced it on her lap. Tho fat woman thanked him with a quiver ing sigh that appeared to lift him from his feet, but he went on undaunted: "Flossie, in my professional career I have accumulated a competence that is ample for us both. My financial resources—beg pardon, did I step on your toe?" "I think not, Lycurgus," she murmured. "I did not feel it." "-Are ample to any demand that likely ever to be made upon them. My per sonal expenses for clothing and—blister that hairless dog I Get out, you mangy brute 1 He shall not harm you, Flossie—be careful, my darling I Y ou are about to step on the tail of that stuffed otter aud make a beaver out of the a n i m at—my personal expenses, I was about to say, are naturally heavy, but my in come is far heavier. It may require a whole bolt of silk tc make you a dress or au entire calfskin"—his voice faltered slightly—"to make a shoe for you, but I can face all this cheerfully, bravely." "Say no more, Lycurgus!" she said, with shy, bewitching tenderness. "Your manly devotion has won my heart 1 I am yours. But 0, Lycurgus! Be kind to me. tender" "Ladies and gentlemen I" yelled the excited manager, appearing at the outside door and waving his arms wildly at the crowd of pas sers by on the street, "the livin'skellenton, the most remarkable specimen of skin and bones that ever drawed the breath of life, is at this identical moment a-sparkin' of Big Flossie, the mountain of flesh, the most colossal bunk of humanity that ever lived I Together with 40,000 other curiosities. Ten cents admits to alL Pass right in 1"—Chicago Tribune. his 1849 a and and ap has of the in the the way.—Buff: 'o Courier. Beyond Redemption. Mrs. Manhattan—But what a hopelessly vulgar lot those Joneses arei \Yhy, I hear that Mr. Jones pays all of his bills In cash, and Mrs. Jones, to my personal knowledge, will go shopping for a pair of gloves and carry them home herself 1—Life. "Home, Sweet Home." Flossie (in her mamma's dressing room)— Oh, mamma, I wish you wouldn't always be going out Mamma—Don't bother, Flossie. Run away like a good girL This is my day "at home," you know.—New York Sun. Too Mach of a Good Thing. He (of Boston)—I presume, Misa Chicago, that you have heard of Hogg? Miss C.—Well, I should say I had. Father and his friends never talk of anything but hog. hog, hog, all the time.—Yankee Blade. The Play on Words. "Have you ever tried our spring ear muffs?" asked the polite salesman of a cus tomer who complained of bold ears. "No,* said the other; "1 don't need 'em in the spring."—Boston Commercial Bulletin. Wiie Without Knowing It. The little girl who wrote on her examina tion paper, "The interior of Af rica is prin cipally used for purposes of exploration," was wiser than she thought. — Baltimore Amer ican. Was Welcome to Keep It. Lawyer—I have my opinion of you. Citizen—Well, you can keep it. The last opinion I got from you cost me $150. — Yon kers Statesman. Worth Studying Latin For. Bobby—Pop, what's the Latin for people? Father—I don't know. Bobby (loudly)—PopulL—Binghamton Re publican. An Electric Fire Alarm. A new form of electric fire alarm con sists of a closed vessel made of very thin metal and filled with naphtha or other volatile liquid. This is so arranged that when the naphtha vaporizes, as a conse quence of a rise in the temperature of the surrounding air, the thin sides of the me tallic chamber bulge out, and in so doing come in contact with ebonite pieces, through which an electric circuit is com pleted and an alarm bell rung. — San Fran cisco Chronicle. AS TO PROFESSOR CORKERY. Year Ago 0m He Was Married More Than to a Little Girl. Hero is a picture of Professor James Cork ery, of South Amboy, N. J., who moro than a year ago married a 9-year-old pupil, and now proposes to wait for his wife until she grows. Professor Corkery has been basking in the genial light of South Amboy for eighteen years. He formerly practiced law there, but finally took to teaching school. But tho ordi nary methods of teaching the young idea how to shoot were not the methods of Pro fessor James Corkery. He proposed to liven things up a little. The dull monotony of every day school life didn't suit him, hence the unusual marriage to one of his pupils. Professor Corkery evidently concluded that the hanging of the Anarchists would tilt things up too far, so he proposed to maintain an even balance in the world by getting mar ried on the day they were hanged. Though a local paper printed the story In full at the time, the outside world has just learned about it. Bertha Munday took the part of bride, and the ceremony was per formed, as the professor declares, according to the ritual of the ancient order of the Druids. It was a sort of fairy wedding, the professor declares. The professor, with the "baby," as he called her, on one knee, knelt down on the other and swore by the sun, the dew, tho rain, the winds and all the ele ments visible and invisible, of life and limb regardless, to guard her honor, to study her ba~ ni ness and to protect her to the lost. The little girl consent ed, and the rest of the scholars joined in. Thero was sing ing and dancing, James corkery. and altogether they had a h igh old time. Tho ceremony was re peated in the afternoon, to clinch the matter, perhaps. At any rate, the pupils evidently thought] it was lots of fun, and joined in, heart and soul The girl's parents seemed to take the matter in good part, and altogether it's a very pretty little tale. Every one likes the professor in South Amboy, and the wed ding has been regarded as one of his harm less eccentricities. The other day he wrote a four column let ter to Rev. Joseph S. Van Dyke, president of the Middlesex County Temperance alliance, who invited him to make a local opt. in speech in New Brunswick a few evenings aga He abused the reverend doctor like a pirate and called him weird names. Here are some of his choicest phrases: 1 speak, sir, as a philosopher, when I condemn the Ignorance, the pride and the self conceited egotism of some who, drawing a circle nrounJ their own contracted sect or party, represent all within its hallowed or unhallowed precincts white as the driyen snow and all without black as the ace of spades. Away, ye hypocrites; ye malevolent agents of his satanic majesty; cave dwellers of the earth. Your ualeful machinations of treachery and treason 1 detest. Your gory cobwebs of supersti tion—of deadly, dark and venomous weaving —I expose to the sunshine and burn in the blazing light of day. As tho angel of the resurrection, I summon from his grave the honest son of toil, intended for th# darkness, oh ruction and oblivion of the tomb. When he v. as a lawyer his most celebrated case was in behalf of a frouzy tramp arraigned for some petty offense, such as stealing a rid# on a railroad train. Counselor Corkery in vested the trial with all the importance that might attach to a case involving the prison er's life. His appeal to the jury was probably the most remarkable effort put forth since the "Pickwick Papers" were published. With eloquent tongue he traced the possi ble career of tho defendant from the tim# his mother sung lullabies to him down to ths period of his degradation as an unwashed, ragged vagrant. He drew on the Scripture# for an illustration, not hesitating to intro duce the wanderings of our Saviour, without a place to rest his head. In the midst of the outburst tho court felt called upon to check the mad flight of the imagination, and the orator had tho mortification to see his client convicted and sent to jail for thirty days. He is a corker. PETER COFFEE. He Was Convicted of Killing Station Agent Way, and Recently Died In Prison. Peter Coffee, who died in tho Connecticut state prison not long ago, was convicted of the perpetration of ono of tho most brutal crimes ever committed in the stats of Con necticut—an J Connecticut has a Jong list of unsolved mysteries. The body of tho station agent at Stony Creek, Charles VVay, was found on the rail road track, fearfully mangled. He wa* known to have had a considerable sum ot money on Ills per son, but when his body was found his pockets had been rifled. Although this circumstanco was rather myste rious, his death was put down as either suicide or the result of an accident. Other opinions were held in other ; parts of the coun- 1 try, however, and a reporter on t ho staff of a great New York newspaper was sent to investigate the mystery Tho reporter, by arrangement with the officials of the railroad, was made station agent of Stony Cr îek. Gradually a strong chain of evidence was weaved around Coffee, and ho was finally ar rested as the guilty man. Tho evidence was as strong as circums'.antial evidence can be, and Coffee was sentenced to prison for life. During his imprisonment he several times ex pressed a desire to confess, but never seemed to have tho courage to do so. Shortly before his death he referred to a man named Mason, a conductor, who was an important witness at the trial, saying: "Ask Mason. Ho knows all about it and will tell you." Coffee was about 55 years of age, aud was much emaci ated at tho time of his death. PETER COFFEE. She IIa«l the Best of It. Magistrate (to prisoner)—Do you get drunk often, Mrs. O'Toolihan? Prisoner—No, sorr, 1 was niver drunk in mo life, but 1 drinks like a fish. Magistrate—Then you must be often drunk. Prisoner—Arrah, sorr, did yez ever see a fish drunk?—New York Sun. It is generally conoeded that the com crop exceeded 2,000,000,000 bushels.