V *' 5 ***Ô
Helena, Montana, Thursday, February 28, 1889/
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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
Mr. Campbell drew himself to his full
"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
The little woman looked up into Mr. Camp
"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
"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.
A Lucky Man.
"What a lucky chap Quimby was!"
"Why fortune played into his hands all his
"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.
Young Wife (looking through cottage)—
Well, about the location, sir?
Landlord—Perfectly healthy, madam. I'D
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
"I don't care if there is tumpany; I won't
have mv face washed with spit."—Pick
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
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
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
"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
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
A NEW BRITISH IRONCLAD.
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,
which, like the great Galatea, was built
and engined by R. Napier & Sons, of
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
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
tion, a member
of the Forty-sixth
. Gen. Weaver
was born fifty-six
years ago in Day
ton, O., and after
having a common
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
at Des Moines. In
1800 he was elec
ted district attor
ney of the Second
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
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.
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.
Attorney—Are you opposed, on prin
ciple, to the execution of condemned
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?"
"What kind do you like best?"
"Well, whenever I see you walking I
admire the poetry of motion."—Nebraska
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
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
"Well, I don't know," was the reply. "I
haven't made up my mind."
"Oh, you ought to go," urged the senator
"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
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 ?"
"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.
Famous Structure Destroyed
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.
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
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
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
teered to drive
the Au s t r i a n
from Italy. Ga
vazzi held the
rank of chaplain
general, and was
of the army. He
took part in sev
eral Battles, but
his force was
obliged to capitu
late at Vicenza.
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.
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.
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
"Flossie, I yield to tho magic of your
charms. I lay my heart and my fortune at
The eager, passionate voice was that of the
living skeleton. He wa3 addressing the fat
"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
"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
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
"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.
"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.
way.—Buff: 'o Courier.
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
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
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
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
Worth Studying Latin For.
Bobby—Pop, what's the Latin for people?
Father—I don't know.
Bobby (loudly)—PopulL—Binghamton Re
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
AS TO PROFESSOR CORKERY.
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
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
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
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.
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
was rather myste
rious, his death was
put down as either
suicide or the result
of an accident.
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.
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.
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