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INJ •VCi. Volume xxiii. Helena, Montana, Thursday, March 21, 1889. No. rn* ^fl|clX1celiItj ^jcraltl. R. E. FISK D. W. FISK Ä. J. FISK. Publisher s and Proprietors. Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana Rates ot Subscription. WEEKLY HERALD: One Year, (in mlVHiioe).............................83 00 H1x Months, (In advance)............................... 1 75 Three Months, (In advance)........................... 1 00 When not paid for In advance the *e will be Four Dollars per year] Postage, in all cases. Prépaie». DAILY HERALD: City Subscribers,delivered by carrier 81.00a month One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. 89 00 Six Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 5 00 Three Months, by mail, (in advance)........... 2 50 If not paid in advance, 812 per annum. (Entered at the Postotlice at Helena as second class matter.) W All communications should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publishers, Helena, Montana. CASEY'S TABLE D'HOTE. Oh, thefn days on Rod Hoss mountain when the skies wuz fair 'nd blue. When the money flowed like likker 'nd the folks wuz brave 'nd true! When the nights wuz crisp end balmy, 'nd the camp wuz all astir With the joints all throwed wide open 'nd no sheriff to demur ! Oh, them times on Red IIos3 mountain In the Rockies fur away— There's no sich place nor times like them as I kin find today! What though the camp hez busted? I seem to see it still, A-lying, like it loved it, on that big 'nd warty hfll; And I feel a sort of yearnin' 'nd a chokin' in my throat When I think of Red Hoss mountain 'nd of Casey's tabble dotel This Casey wuz an Irishman—you'd know it by his name And by the facial features appertainin' to the same; He'd lived in many places 'nd had done a thousand things. From the noble art of actin' to the work of dealin' kings; But, somehow, hadn't caught on—so, driftin' with the rest. He drifted for a fortune to the undeveloped west, And he come to Red Hoss mountain when the little camp wuz new, When the money flowed like likker 'nd the folks wuz bravo 'nd true; And, havin' been a stewart on a Mississippi boat, He opened up a caffy 'nd he run a tabble dotel The bar wuz long 'nd rangey, with a mirror on the shelf— *Nd a pistol, so that Casey, when required, could help himself; Down underneath there wuz a row of bottled beer 'nd wine', 'Nd a kag of Ilurbon whisky of the run of '59; Upon the walls wuz pictures of bosses 'nd of girls— Not much on dress, perhaps, but strong on rec ords 'nd on curls 1 The which had been identified with Casey In the past— The hosses 'nd the girls, I mean—and both wuz mighty fasti But all these tine attractions wuz of precious little noia By the 6ide of what was offered at Casey's tabble dotel A tabble dote is different from orderin' aller cart; In one case you git all there is—in t'other, only part! And Casey's tabble dote began in French— as all begin— And Casey's ended with the same, which is to say with "vin;" But in between wuz every kind of reptile, bird *nd beast, The same like you can git In high toned restau ra ws down east 1 •Nd windin' up wuz cake or pie, with coffee demy tass, Or, sometimes, floating Ireland in a soothin' kind of sass That left a sort of pleasant ticklin' in a feller's throat, *Nd made him hanker after more of Casey's tab ble dotel The very recollection of them puddin's 'nd them pies Brings a yearnin' to my buzzum 'nd the water to my eyes; *Nd seems like cookin' nowadays ain't what tt used to be In camp on Red Hoss mountain in that year of '63; But may be it is better, and may be I'm to blame— I'd like to be a-livin' in the mountains jest the same— I'd like to livo that life again when skies wuz fair 'nd blue. When things wuz run wide open 'nd men wua brave 'nd true— When brawny arms the flinty ribs of Red Hoss mountain smote For wherewithal to pay the price of Casey's tab ble dotel —Eugene Field In Chicago News. Luder the Mistletoe. If she'd been his sister. He'd never have kissed her; But she was his cousiu. And he gave her a dozen. —Somerville Journal. Cupid's Decadence. In ancient days, when all was young, And love and hope were rife, Dan Cupid fed on country fare, And lived a country Ufa He rose betimes at break of day, And round the country harried, Upstirrlng hearts that were unwed. And soothing down the married. But then on wider mischief bent, He bled him£> the city; And finding tnffeh to suit his taste. He stayed there—more's the pity. Men built him there a golden house, Bedigbt with golden stars; They feasted him on golden grain And wine in golden jars. They draped his pretty nakedness In richest cloth of gold. And set him up In business, Where love is bought and sold. And thus he led a city Ufa Forgetting his nativity; Since then he's gone from bad to worsa From cupid to cupidity. —Boston Herald. Quite True. It is said that the town of Howland, Ma, derived its name from the exclamation made by an adventurous white man who fell in love with and stole away from her father's wigwam a young and beautiful squaw. He was pursued down the Piscataquis, where he took his sweetheart into his canoe and boldly paddled out into the foaming waters. In hot pursuit came the dusky sons of the forest, and reaching the banks of the swift flowing waters they saw the white sanup nearing the shore. They set up cries of rage which con tinued through the night. When these came to his ears he proudly lifted his head each time, and in classical English cried back: "Howl and be durned."—Unidentified. 00 75 THE TWO HEADED GIRL. B1U Nye Shows ITow Hard It Is to Be One. Mr. Riley and I played in St. Louis against Millie Christine, tho two headed nightingale. She is touring over the country this season accompanied by herself. A man who owns a lunch counter in Illinois is a hopeless lunatic because ho could not decide whether to charge her for one meal or two. Her success has certainly been most remarkable. Starting out as sho did, under the most adverse cir cumstances, not knowing for two or three years whether to regard herself as an anom aly or twins, she has a wonderfully placid career. Now sho is shown wherever the English language is spoken. Sho is of Afri can descent and as black as tho deuce of spades. I say the deuce because the ace of 6pades is very rarely black, as I am informed; also because iu her case a comparison with the two spot would be more appropriate any way. What I like about Mile. Christine more especially is her harmonious disposition. Had she been otherwise, it would have been fatal to her success. A two headed girl relies very much on tho friendly feeling existing between her two sets of heads for her popularity. Should eyether head fall out with the other, nyether would succeed. So it will not do for one to be jealous of the success of the other. When one head sings soprano and is encored, and if tho other head gets hot and wants to quit, it worries the management and breaks up tho show. No two headed girl can suc ceed when the relations are strained. Sup posing that the soprano desired to eat onions for supper in order to improve her voice, of course the alto has a right, owning a half in terest in the same stomach, to object, pro vided that tho nut brown flavor of onions is distasteful to her; and yet these two people get along together, as they have for years, without any bickerings at all and still under the same management. Supposing again that the soprano is sleepy after a prolonged matinee and evening per formance, answering repeated encores; she therefore desires to go to sleep at once, while the alto, who has had no encores to answer, would liko to have the gas burning and read "Robert Elsmere." One can readily see that in an ordinary musical combination this would break up the show in five minutes, but it is not so with the two headed nightingale. The two headed nightingale dresses alike. For receptions she wears a pink foulard silk with a limited train to it Revers are sewn on the side and draped over panels of wash goods. The train is supported by folds of wiggin and connects with all points east, west, north and south. A largo cameo marie to resemble a fried egg, depends from a deli cate chain about the neck. The dress is worn decollete. I asked the alto what her opinion was of this style of dress as a feature of the approaching administration. She said, of course it could be made more or less of a feature, according to the taste and good judg ment of the wearer, but she did not favor it as an extremist She said that where the whole company could be regarded as ladies and gentlemen, there could bo no objection to the custom. Those who were a little doubt ful about themselves and afraid they lacked some of the essential elements necessary to civilization, could avoid all trouble by re maining at home. This is not her exact language, for I have edited it a little myself in order to give it that polish which charac terizes all my work. Miss Christine says tha t whether the new administration encourages the decollete dress at Washington or introduces a fur collar and yarn mittens, she will still cling to the old custom. She says that if the English lady with two yards of throat can saw off two or three dollars' worth of goods from the top of her dress with impunity, the hardy Ameri can girl who drives a reaper and husks corn in our rough climate ought to be able to put in a few weeks at Washington in full dress. I have always said that a true lady will not seek to escape entirely through the top of her costume, but a pleasant sweep of undulating neck and round, well molded arms adds to to the general beauy of the scene from an ar tistic standpoint Those who go into a sculptor's studio half afraid that they will be raided by the police, would naturally de nounce the decollete dress, and they are right about it, too. They know their own hearts pretty well and are evidently afraid that the authorities will also find out about it.—Bill Nye in New York World. Tlie Story of a Life. Little Willie. Larke & Co. Willie Larke. The W. A. Larke Co., Master W. A. Larke. Limited. William A. Larke. Bill Larke. Mr. William Addison Larke. Larke. Larkie. Mr. W. Addison Larke Cell 173. William A. Larke & Co. —Lies. Only One Thing More. Diner (to 6low waiter)—Some roast beef, well done, potatoes and a glass of beer. Waiter—Yes, sir. Anything else, sir? Diner—Yes, I'd like it today.—Exchange. Faint Heart. Jack—Now, look out. I'm going to kiss you. Sallie (preparing to run)—Oh! oh 11 ohl! You wouldn't dare 1 (Jack wavers) would you? —Drake's Magazina Painters of Political Portraits. Sign painters graduated to portrait work turn out from five to seven portraits in twelve hours, but the rapid and careless way in which they are done is illustrated on many of tho banners now strung. Two or three men often combine in painting political portraits. One will do the draw ing of tho head and the rough lines of the face. Such is known as the "lÿieness" artist, and it is he who is expected to catch the expression. One or moro men fill in the coloring and details of dress. In this manner the work can be done quickly ».ud to a certain extent correctly, providing, of course, that those engaged have had any training iu portrait paint ing.—Brooklyn Eagle. Accidents In El|h Life. First Tramp-Say, pard, how'd ye smash yer finger? Second Tramp—Shuttin' the pianer.—New York Weekly. . __________ MR. AND MRS. BOWSER. The Question of Pin Money and How It Was Settled. Before our marriage mother insisted that we settle one important question, viz., what allowance I was to have weekly. When I broached the subject Mr. Bowser promptly replied: "Half of all I have or earn is, or will be, yours. When you want money you will sim ply go to tho family pocketbook and take it and use it as your judgment dictates." When I told mother what he said, she re plied: "That is too generous. I never knew a man to make such an offer t)iat he didn't afterward pinch his wife down to 50 cents a week. '' When the question incidentally came up again, later on, Mr. Bowser took occasion to observe: "There will always be money in the house, and I don't want to marry a woman whom I could not trust to use it for our best interest. It will belong to you as much as to me, and you need never ask for a dollar. " A few weeks after our marriago an agent called at our house with some fancy work, and 1 took 85 from the wallet in the bureau drawer and made some purchases. That evening when Mr. Bowser came home I proudly pointed to my tidies and mats and said: "Those were purchased with our money, Mr Bowser." "How our money?" "Why, 1 took a bill from the family wal let." "You did! Who gave you permission to fling my money around for gimcracks?" "Doesn't half of it belong to me?" "Not by a long shot!" "But before we were married you said it would." "That's iu theory, of course. I will see that you are not tempted again. When you want money ask me for it. I can then put the amount down on my cash book and figure our expenses." The next week I wanted a new bonnet, and I asked Mr. Bowser for $15. "Fifteen what!" he gasped as ho looked up "Dollars." "What for?" "To buy a bonnet." "Fifteen dollars to buy a bonnet! You must bo crazy 1 I can't afford any such ex travagance. " "But you said you could trust my judg ment." "Never did I No woman on earth has judg ment enough to use a $10 bilL" And you said I had only to ask you when I wanted money." "But 1 meant to have explained to you, Mrs. Bowser. There are times when the best of us may be hard up. Never ask me at tax time. Never ask me when I have coal to buy. Never ask in the spring when I shall be mak ing repairs. Don't ask during tho holiday season, for then I am buying presents. In fact, when I can spare any money I will give it to you without your asking. " "But you once said a wife must feel mean without money, and that you believed in a weekly allowance," I protested. "I still say so and I still believe so. I think it would be more satisfactory to both of us. Mrs. Bowser, name the sum you are willing to take." "For pin money?" "Of course. Women are always wanting little trifles, and I shall give you a weekly salary to buy them. How much?" "I—I hardly know." "Could you get everything on $5 a week?" "I think I could." "Very well. This is Saturday. Here's your salary. When Saturday comes hold out your hand for your money. I don't be lieve in a wife crawling and begging for money." The next week I held out my hand and my salary was promptly handed over, but when the succeeding Saturday arrived Mr. Bowser observed : "Let's see! You have had $10. I presume that every red cent of it has been squandered. Let's figure a little and see what you have brought." "But wasn't it mine, to use os I thought best?" "Theoretically, yes; but should you become a spendthrift, who would be responsible for it? The possession of plenty of money has been the ruination of many women." "Never rained a man, I suppose?" "Possibly, but that's not the question. Let ns figure." "So we will, Mr. Bowser! Your income lest week was $40. You gave me $5. How have you used the rest?" "Are you crazy?" he gasped. "No, sir! How did you use that money?" He looked at me a long time and then hand ed me my salary and the subject was drop ped. The next week, however, he cut me down a dollar, and the second week I got but two. "I—I don't understand," I said as I looked at the bill. "It's all I can spare." "Then it's all right, and I'll try and make it do." At the end of the sixth or seventh week I asked for my salary and arrears, and Mr. Bowser jumped up and demanded: "What salary? What arrears? If you want money why don't you ask for it, the same as other wives do? What are you trying to get at?" "Don't 1 have a weekly salary?" "Not that I ever heard of." "But you said—I thought you were going to—to" "Going to Texas? Oh, no! Mrs. Bowser, yon have been exposed to the measles, and you are over excited If you want a quarter or fifty cents here it is, but please control your nerves a little better." "But don't I get $5 a week?" "Not that I know of." "And you go back on your word, do you?" "Mrs. Bowser, the term 'go back' is slangy. Please don't use it at our fireside. If occa sion should ever arise whan you felt the need of money, don't hesitate to ask ma Here are • couple of street car tickets now. I always have change with ma Let us now drop the subject"— Detroit Free Press. ONE OF BILL NYE'S FIRST EFFORTS. It I a a to I I A Thrilling Piece of Verse Published In His Earlier Days. At different times we have read different stories upon the subject of the "discovery" of Bill Nye. The popular tradition is that The Denver Tribune was the first paper that recognized the merits of the genial humorist and exploited them. It appears, however, that Nye contributed to another Colorado paper before his connection with The Tribune; this was The Georgetown Miner Mr. E. H. N. Patterson was then editor of that paper, and he was the first editor, we think, to en courage the Wyoming genius. At any rate Nye contributed to The Georgetown Mine, before his fame reached Denver. We have one of Mr. Nye's first contribu tions to The Miner, and we give it herewith. It is of interest, first, as being one of the pop ular humorist's early works; second, as con taining a poem by him; third, as affording an opportunity to such as may be disposed to compare Nye's early work with his later work, deriving from such comparison pretty good evidence that his work lias greatly im proved in quality: "will you love me when i'm old? "Tho following poem was composed while the writer was recovering from a very vio lent attack of bilious colic; but it is a sweet little thing, with a vein of touchfillness run ning through it and sticking out in places. There is something indescribably sad about it. Most every one who has read it felt sad after they got through. I don't know whether I shall have it set to music, so that I can sing it, or preserve it in alcohol: "Darling, I have often thought That I'd put my racket in, But I've had to listen on To the music of your chin. "Will you lovo me when I'm old. And my locks are turned to gray? Will you buzz into my ear With your grand and flowery play? "When I weigh 200 pounds Will you keep your love for me? Will you promise,'cross your heart,' That you'll hold me on your knee? "Shall we be the same as now After wo have oV'^r grown? When you're troubled with a boil, Will you be 'my ownest own?' "When my hair is dapple gray And I cannot make It curl. Shall I be your solid pard— More so than the hired girl? "Will you hover o'er my head When I'm going up the flume? Will you weep and paw the ground When I'm planted in the tomb? "Will you watch the lowly spot Where your loved one's dust is laid. With your shotgun cocked and primed. For the student with his spade? "Will you shoot him full of holes If he digs around my tomb? Will you send him by express To his long, eternal home? "Any one sending me $1 as an evidence of good faith will receive the answers to the various co nundrums propounded in this little gem." —Eugene Field in Chicago News. A Fair Warning. The skill of the ordinary advertisement writer is continually illustrated. It almost pays to read the advertisements to get the queer examples of business English that they contain. The other day the writer noticed this; "If you buy a pair of Dumkopf's panta loons you will never buy another."—Boston Transcript. Advancing Civilization. St. Paul Mother—Johnny, don't put your knife in your mouth while eating that piece of pie. Johnny—But, mamma, we all used to put knives in our mouths. St Paul Mother—That was when we were living in Chicago. Remember we are in. St Paul now.—St Paul Pioneer Press. High Ideas. Pater Familias (interrupting)—You girls should fix your minds on something higher than dress. Mary Ann—That is what we have, pa. We have got our minds fixed now on a couple of lovely high hats down at Mrs. Feather's mil linery rooms.—Yankee Blade. Effects of MiM Weather. Good Citizen—Did you dispense any charity today? Wife—Yes, I fed three tramps. "Poor fellows! Who were they?" "Two coal dealers and a plumber."—Phila delphia Record. A Shrill Imp. "That's a bright boy of yours, Brown," re marked Terwilliger. "Yes," growled the old man- "He has al ready begun to make a noise in the world."— New York Evening Sun. He Will Calm Her Nervousness. 1 Fair Passenger (to her traveling compan ion)—Do you know, Mr. Sampson, that I feel very nervous? Mr. Sampson—What makes you feel that way? Do you anticipate danger? Fair Passenger (shyly)—No, I don't antici pate any danger, but we are approaching a tunnel—The Epoch. The monster 111 ton cannon recently m a n ufactured in Germany carries twenty miles. PENINSULA'S CUANDARY. A Thrilling Story Taken Bodily from Real Life. [Note. —This remarkable story—published, it is hardly necessary to say, exclusively by The Tribune—is from advance sheets of Mr. W-m D-n H- Ils' next novel. As printed below it appears in somewhat con densed form, but contains all that is note worthy in plot, incident and dialogue in the entire story.] L A picturesquely commonplace, ordinary, unemotional New England day. The sun having risen some three hours pre viously, was now about three hours high. Its rays, shining in through tho second story back parlor window of a plain frame dwell ing house on a quiet street in Disinalton, lit up a split bottomed chair occupied by a thin haired young woman evidently suffering from heartburn. The window, it should be mentioned, was of ordinary construction, being made of pine sash and 9x14 or possibly 10x14 glass. The putty had 'dropped off in places, and the fastening at the top of the lower sash was partially broken off, as if it had been hastily raised by insert ing an as or soup ladle at the bottom and prying upward. This might have been done in a moment of forgetfulness by the auburn haired und contemplative domestic who was employed at a stipend of $3.50 per week tc do the cooking and look after tho house. The young woman who sat in tho chair was near sighted and wore steel rimmed glasses. She was not handsome, but there was an expression about her sallow faco with its square jaw and aquiline nose, slightly red dened at the tip, that sometimes caused per sons who met her to look at her a second time. "Mother," sho said to an angular matron who entered the apartment, "1 am impressed with tho conviction—or perhaps I should say I am at times dimly conscious of an impres sion—that this life of excitement is making me slightly nervous." And she put away the yarn stocking she was darning and picked up a late New Eng land novel by Jenry Hames. "Peninsula," said her mother after a pause, during which sho had been vaguely watch ing tho uneasy slumbers of a dejected cat that lay limply on the rug before the fire, "I think you had better spend a few months in Italy. What shall we have*for dinner?" IL Three weeks later. Rome. Vatican. Cat acombs. Pigeons. Gloomy sunshine. Op pressive feeling of ennui "Mother," said Peninsula, as tho two stood in front of the Pamphilia-Doria palace, "isn't that aged Lorso terribly lame? Ah, me! What is life good for, I wonder, anyhow ?" "My daughter," replied tho mother, with a dreary yawn, as she aimlessly looked at her watch and remembered sho had not wound It since sho left Dismalton, "wo will go to Venice. " nL Gondolas. St. Mark's. Pervading damp ness, odors of garlic and pensive memories of Venetian Days. Continuation of ennui "Mother, I yearn. for my New England home. Life here Is so intense, so aquatic, so" "I know it, my daughter. And the eggs are too Oriental I want you should not be come too much excited. Remember how the story of Annie Quillburn worked upon your sensitive nature." "Mother!" exclaimed Peninsula, in a voice of hopeless melancholy, "wo will return home. " IV Dismal ton. Another ordinary New Eng land day. Tho mother and daughter alighted from tho two seated carryall had their trunks carried into the house, paid the man, and went in. They had returned home. A few more chunks of putty had fallen from the second story back window, and the cat was rather t hinn er than formerly. Other wise the place was unchanged. "What time is it, mother?" "I think," said the mother, looking at the sun, "it must be about 11 o'clock. Or half past," she added, reflectively. V. The evening shades had fallen, but a faint odor of boiled cabbage still pervaded the quiet New England home. There was a knock at the front door. The bell, it should be explained, was out of repair. The caller was shown into the parlor. "I have called, Peninsula, to" The young village doctor paused a moment to suppress an. involun tary spasmodic action that looked like a yawn, but may have been a hiccough. "I have called, Peninsula, to ask if you will marry me," "Fotheringay," she answered, looking at the hickory wood fire in the grate with pain ful incertitude, "I cannot say whether I will or not." THE END. —Chicago Tribune. Improving tue Occasion. Little Dot—Mamma, papa was readin' In the paper 'bout a oatmeal mill that exploded awful in Chicago. Mamma—I suppose the meal was not man aged carefully. Little Dot—I dess so. Maybe they didn't put enough sugar on it.—Philadelphia Rec ord. _ Working a Mine. Head Waiter—Didn't Mr. Goodheart tip you just now? Waiter—Yes, sah; gub me half a dollah. "Well, you wait on that new guest and give some other waiter a chance at Mr. Good heart's table He isn't more than half through yet."—Philadelphia Record. Even Harder. "Is there anything so hard to find as a needle in a haystack?" he said, with a sudden flach of meteoric brilliance. " Yes," she responded softly, "it Is quite as hard to find a haystack in a needle. Did yon ever try to find a haystack in a needle, Mr. Bradly?"—Washington Post. In the New Flat. Mrs. Honeymoon—Oh, Charlie, what a small room this is! Mr. Honeymoon—Very. Spare room, I g'pose. Sparest room of the lot.—Harper's Bazar. by As the Its lit be in tc she her to be A a at An Unfortnnate Name. Philanthropist—My friend, you look as if you were out of work? Pale Young Man—I am indeed, sir. For tune is pretty bard on me. Philanthropist—What kind of a job are you looking for? Pale Young Man—Cashier in a bank; but my name is dead against me. Philanthropist—What is your name? Pale Young Man— De Camp.—Burlington Free Press. A Sudden Move. si £ »V 0 uiiri ft ■riB Young Mr. Porcine—Didn't young Mr. Wabash, Miss Breezy, board here not long since? Miss Breezy—Yes, but ho left some little time ago. We all liked him so much. He was such a gentleman—so quiet and refined in his tastes—but he jumped his board two months ago, and we haven't seen him since. —New York Sun. Willie's Manifest Destiny. "I confess I am sometimes sorely per plexed," said the father, with a heavy sigh, "when I think of the future of my boys. It is a great responsibility to have tho choosing of a calling in life for them." Through the open window came the voices of two of the lads at play. "Look here!" loudly exclaimed Johnny, "that isn't fair! You've divided these mar bles so os to get all the best ones in your own bag." "Didn't I have the trouble of dividing 'em!" reiterated Willie, hotly. "Think I'm going to spend my time at such jobs for nothing?" "So far as Willie is concerned," resumed the father, after a pause, "the task of choos ing a vocation is not so difficult. I shall make a lawyer of him."—Chicago Tribune. A Guinea Pig's Misfortune. It seems that in the wisdom of nature guinea pigs have no tails—and thereby hangs a tale. A South Minneapolis carpenter re cently invested in a dear little guinea pig for the edification of his youngest boy. Before the wondering youth was presented with the animal the father gave him this admonition: "Now, look-a-hear, Johnny, don't you hold that pig up by the tail or its eyes will drop out." The awe stricken boy retired and soon re joiced in the possession of his pig. He had not amused himself long with the pet before he convulsed the whole family by shouting out: "Papa! papa! somebody's been holdin' this pig up by the eyes!"—Minneapolis JouraaL Appearances Are Deceitful. sr. m 7 She—Why, Ulrich, you never told me this was to be a masked ball Ulrich (in tragic whisper)—Hush! That is the Vicomte de Grosnez, with his own face.— Life.__ Men and Things. A man about to be hanged knows more than any other living person. He always has the latest noose. As a general thing cowboys do not marry. It is a mystery, too, for each one loves a las-so. The man who works the brass brick dodge is not likely to win golden opinions from his victims. When you split your sides with laughter you must rim till you get a stitch in them. It is the astronomer who most frequently rises to observe. The lazy man's pet flower is the dahliah. Changing Off. Mrs. Crimson beak—Well, what did the doctor say? Mr. Crimson beak—He said my system was out of order. "WRat are you doing for it?" "Oh, I'm going to try the doctor's system for a little while."—Yonkers Statesman. Not Far Enough Along. A little boy complained that his^ter had purposely pushed him, which she denied. Her father, taking her aside, said: "Now, Abbie, don't you go to Sunday school, and don't they teach you that it is wrong to tell liesf ' "We haven't got so far as that," she interrupted. —Woman's Work. Sweet Sympathy. Oliver—I do not think I am quite myself thl« evening. Jeannette—Allow me to congratulate you. -Life. It REDEYE'S DEEP GRATITUDE. ~~ How the Editor of a Paper Won Him as a Life Long Friend. The groat truth that position in a news paper, as in life, is everything, was brought home to me very forcibly several years ago, while acting as editor on a frontier daily which had the largest circulation and chattel mortgage in the territory, which latter fact has never iieen successfully contradicted to this day. The fall crop of local nominations were just in, and the nominee for sheriff on the opposition had a reputation so tough that 44 bullets would flatten against it. I felt it incunflient on me as a newly laid editor to point out wherein he was not a suitable man for tho office. I told in a caustic double lead ed editorial how he had, while previously holding some office, taken money from crimi nals who were amateurs compared with him self, and allowed them to escape to Manitoba or the Northwest territory. I showed him up as a thief, a blackmailer and a gambler, and stated that if rumor is not hopelessly wrong he had long had the run of the ranges as an unconvicted horse thief. As a man with whom murder was a pastime, and all round crime a mere relief from the monotony of dispersing poison over a bar, I believed him unworthy of the con fidence of our best people, and therefore urged his defeat at the polls. As the editorial v'aa a little strong, I ventured to show it to the proprietor. He read it, and said : "H'm; you can run this if you choose, but you must as sume all personal responsibility." "Certainly," I answered. "I will do so, but in \ ..;w of Redeye's record I don't think there is any libel suit in it." "I am not afraid of that and will take all financial responsibility, but you must shoul der the personal responsibility." He empha sized tho word "personal" so much that I wondered. He then shook hands with me in a fervid though mournful manner, a proceed ing that was unusual, and quietly went out, as I learned afterward, and telegraphed back east to fit. Paul to have another editor sent on at once. He was a prudent proprietor, and trusted that tho new man would arrive in time to handle my obsequies and make a good story out of it. We met the next morn ing at the office, much to his surprise. He grasped my hand again and asked if I had heard from CoL Redeye yet. There were several others of the force present. At that instant the colonel's voice was heard in the hallway. It was a moment of sprightly activity. The meeting dissipated itself with a suddenness only equaled by the adjourn ment of a female convention when a mousa takes the floor. Every one believed it was a case of the quick or the dead, and they pre ferred to indulge in the former. All remem bered some overdue appointment, to miss which might cause great monetary loss, and one in his haste took the wiudow sash with him I was left alone in innocent tenderfoot calmness, and the colonel entered. "You the editor?" I had that honor. "Well, young feller, you're a friend of mine, and I'm not so low down as to forgit a friend or forgive an enemy, as the poet says. Of course you had to say something ag'in me, not being of my party, but you put your lit tle game of talk on the inside of an editorial. If you had put it on the front page, with black type for a starter, I might have felt it my duty to kill you. But as it is, I appreci ate the favor, and nothin' in my place is too good for you. Come down and see us." This little event opened my eyes to tha value of the front page as an advertising position, something which Gen. Boulanger must appreciate by this time, and for which he has been working for years.—Chicago Inter Ocean. Slie Thought It Was a Compliment. An ex-minister abroad, who was as popu lar in the northern capital where he repre sented our government as in his own birth place, showed his appreciation of the honors bestowed upon him by marrying the daugh ter of one of the high officials of the state, a beautiful girl of 18. The honorable minister was as proud of his lovely young bride as are all men of 50 who are fortunate enough to have married a girl still in her teens, and most of the honeymoon was devoted to teach ing her the English language, of which she was entirely ignorant. The lovely little for eigner learned very rapidly, not only what she was taught, but every word that tlropped from tho lips of her husband, who would occasionally say very naughty things just to hear her sweet mouth repeat them. That this was unwise ho learned to his sorrow one day, when on presenting his wife to an old friend and schoolmate, she said: "Oh! Mr. -, how do you do? I am in deed glad to meet you, for only the other day I heard my husband say you were the great est bore in Washington."—New York Trib une. An Unanswerable Argument. Tonsorial Artist—You vant to try some of mine patent hair tonic; your hair vos got thin on top already. Customer—Why don't you try it yourself? You're balder than lam. Tonsorial Artist—Ya; but I rebresent "pe fore using." Look at dot barber py der next chair; ho rebresents "after using two bot tles." Ve know our peezness, ain't it?— America. Exchange of Courtesies. Mrs. Donohue—I wad have ye comprehind that me own family always moved in tha higher circles of sasiety. Mrs. Doyle—I am aware of it, Mrs. Dono hue. 1 have always heard that the scum al ways rises to the top.—Texas Siftings. An Epitaph. A much esteemed but injudicious man Caught cold in Jan., And tangled th>i3 in fate's mysterious web. He died In Feb. ^Chicago News. "Experts'* in the Conrt Room. Under the present usage the expert bears witness for one side against tha other; whereas the truth being "neither black nor white, but gray," may stand in the middle of the disputed territory. The science of the court room is litigious, not J udicial; and no place is found for the un ilased presentation of fact, regardless of its bearing upon the personal interest at stake, and with fair credit given to genu ine doubts and uncertainties. To the scientific partisan the court room doors are wide open; to the scientific jurist they are practically closed, for no one Wâfî£s his services. In criminal cases, perhaps, a better showing may be made; for here we have an impersonal state seeking to do exact justice, and its experts have no private end to gratify. If, however, they are incompetent, the criminal, perhaps a poisoner, may escape punishment, and glaring cases of this kind are on record. —Professor Frank W. Clark« in Popular Science Monthly.