The true northerner. [volume], November 17, 1876, Image 3

About The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920

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PAW PAW, MICHIGAN.
HE K I S TllAXKStH V IS . ,
At noon, on a dreary November day,
a lonesome little fellow, looking very
red about the ears, and very blue alwut
tlw month, stood kicking his heels at the
door of a cheap eating-house, in losron,
and offering a solitary- copy of a morning
paper for sale to the people passing.
Lint there wore reallv Lot many people
passing, for it was Thanksgiving day,
and tho shops were shut, and everybody
who had u home to go to, and a dinner
to eat, saemed to have gone home to eat
that dinner, while Uort Hampton, the
newaboy, stood trying in vain to Bell the
last "Extry" left ou bin hands by the
dull business of the morning.
An old man, with a face that looked
pinched, aud w ho was dressed in a seedy
black coat, and a much-battered stove
pipe hat,' stopped at the same doorway,
and, with ono baud on the latch, he ap
peared to hesitate between hunger and a
sense of povertv, before going in.
It was possdf L however, that he was
considering whether he could afford
himself the indulgence of a morning
paper (seeiug it was Thanksgiving day);
so at least Bert thought, aud accosted
him accordingly.
44Bnv a paper; sir? All aboiit the
fire in East Boston, and arrest of safe
burglars in Springfield. Only 2 cents."
The little old man looked at the boy
with keen gray eyes, which seemed to
light up the pinched and skinny face,
and answered in a fchrill, voice, that
whistled through white front teeth:
'You ought to come down in your
price, this time of day. You can't ex
pect to sell a mcmiug paper at 12 o'clock
tor full price."
44 Well, give me a cent then," said
Bert. That's less'u cost; but never
mind. I'm bound to sell out, anyhow."
41 You look cold," said the old man.
"Cold." replied Bert, "I'm froze.
And I want my dinner. And I'm going
to have a big dinner, too, seeing it's
Thanksgiving day."
" Ah ! lucxy for you, my boy !" slid
the old man. "You've a homo to go
to, and friends, too, I hope."
"No, sir; nary home, and nary
friend only my mother. Bert hesi
tated and grew serious, thou suddenly
changed his tone "and Hop Houghton.
I told him to meet mo .here, and wa'd
have a first-rate' Thanksgiving dinner
together for it's no fun - to bo eatin'
alone .Thanksgiving, day I It sets a fel
ler thinkingif. lie ever; had ' Vlioso,
and then tmia't got a home any rno;-e."
" It's mo: lryeso?ne net to cat at all,"
ftf id the old man, his gray eyi twink
ling " Avt what can a boy like you
havo to'.tliais of ? Here, I gufss' I; can
llnd one cut for you though thero'ji
nothing in the paper, I know."
The old man i-poke with some feeling,
his lingers tre.no! 3d, and somehow he
dropped two cents instead of one into
Bert's hand.
"Here! yon've made a mistake I"
cried Evvt. "A bargain's a bargain.
You've given me a cent too much !"
" Xo, I didn't I never give anybody
a cent too much !"
" But see here !" And Bert showed
the two cent", offering to return one.
" No matter," said tho old man. "It
will be so much less for my dinner
that's all."
Bert had instinctively pocketed the
pennies, when, onu moment's reflection,
his sympathies were excited.
" Po; r old mnn !" he thought ; " he's
seen better days, I guess. Perhaps he's
no home. A bey like me can stand it,
but I guess it must bo hard for him. He
meant to give me tho odd cent, all tho
while ; and I don't believe ho has had ft
decent dinner for many a day."
Ali this, which I have been obliged to
write out slowly in words, went through
Bert's mind like a llash. He was agener-
ous little fellow, and any kindness shown
him, no matter how trilling, made his
heart overflow.
''Lock here," he cried ; " whoro are
you going to get your dinner, to day ?"
"I can get a bite hero as well as any
where it don't matter much to me," re
plied the old man.
" Dine with r?ac," said Bert, laughing.
"I'd like to have you."
"I'm afraid I couldn't afford to dino
ns you are going to," aid tho man, with
a smile, his eyas twinkling again, and
his white front teetu shining.
"I'll pav for vour dinner I" Bert ex
claimed. "Come! we don't havo a
Thanks-giving but once a year, and a
feller want.i a good time then.
"But you are waiting for another
boy."
"O! Hop noughtou. Ho won't come
now, it's sj late, ne's gone to a place
down in North htree, I guess a place I
don't like, there's so much tobacco
smoked and so much ter drank there."
Beit cast a final glance up the street.
" No, he won't come now. So much the
worse for him I Ho likes tho men down
there; I don't."
"Ah!" said the man, taking off his
hat and giving it a brush with his elbow
as they entered the restaurant, as if try
ing to appear aa respectable as he could
in the eyes ot a newsboy of such fastid
ious tastes.
To make him feel quite comfortable
in his mind on tLut point, Bert hastened
to say :
"1 mean rowdies, and such. Poor
people, if they behave themselves, are
JUhfc rwj'ttwujH iu uia ns ncu I01K8,
I ain't tho least mite aristocratic 1"
"Ah, inded!" And tho old man
smiled again, nn J seemed to look re
lieved. "Im very glad to hear it."
He placed his hat on the floor, and
took a seat opposite Bert at a little
table, which they had ail to themselves.
Bert offered Inm tne bill of fare.
" No, I must ask you to chooso for me;
but nothing very extravagant, you know
I'm used to plain fare."
" So am I. But I'm going to havo a
good dinner, for onco in my life and so
shall you I" cried Bert, generously.
"What do you say to chicken soup
and then wind up with a thumping "big
piece of squ-sh piof How's that for a
Tlnuksz.ving dinner?
" Sumi'tuous I" said tho old man. an
pearing to glow with the warmth of tho
room nu mo ijrusjn-ui, u guou uu
ner. "But won't it cost you too much ?'
" Too wnchU SoM?!" laughed Bort.
" Chicken soup, . 15 cents; pi they
gvo tremendous pioc here, thick, I tell
v6u 10 conts. That'll 25 cents; half a
dollar for two. Of course, I don't do
this way every day in the year I But
mother's glad to have me, once in a
while." Here! waiter!" And Bert gi wo
his princely order as if it were no very
groat thi'jg for a liberal young folio w
like him, after all.
" Whoro is your mother ? .Why don't
you dino .with her?" the little man
asked. ' ' ' f 1 . ' ;
Bert's face grew flober in a moment. '
" That's tho question ! Why don't I ?
I'll tell you why 1 don't. I've got the
bct mother in the world ! Wtoat I'm
trvin;? to do is to make a home for her,
so we can live together, and eat our
Thanksgiving dinners together, -some
time, Sonie boys want ono thing, some
another thore's ono goes in for good
times, another's in such a hurry to get
rich he don't care much how he does it ;
but what I want most of anything is to
bo with my mothor and my two sisters
again, and I ain't ashamed to say so."
IJjrts eyes grew very tender, and he
went on while his companion across
the table watchod him with a very gen
tle, searching look.
" I haven t been with her now for two
years hardly at all since father died.
When his business was settled up he
kept a littlo hosiery store on Hanover
street it was found ho hadn't left us
anything. Wo had lived pretty well,
up to that time, and I and my two sisters
had been to school; but then mother had
to do something, ond her friends got her
places to gj out nursing aud she's a
nurse now. Everybody likes her, and
she has enough to do. We couldn't bo
with her, of course. Sho got ns boarded
at a good place, but I saw how hard it
was going to be for her to support up,
so I said, 'I'm a boy; can do some
thing for myself; you just pay their
board and keep 'em to school, and I'll
go to work, and maybe help you a little,
besides taking care of myself.' "
" What could you do ? said tho little
old man.
"That's it; I was only 'leven years
old ; and what could I ? What I should
have liked would havo been somo nice
place, where I could do light work, and
stand a chanco of learning a good busi
ness. But b?ggars mustn't be choosers.
I couldn't find such .a place ; and I
wasn't going to bo loafing about the
streets, so I went to selling newspapers.
I've sold newspapers ever since, and I
shall be 12 years old next month."
" lou like it I said tne old man.
"I !iko to get my own living," re
plied Bert, proudly. "But what I want
is, to learn some trade, or regular busi
ness, and settlo down, and malse a homo
for Bnt there's no use talking about
that. Make the best of things that s
my motto. Don't this soup smell good ?
And don't it ta&te good, too? They
haven't put so much chicken in yours as
they have in mine. If you don't mind
my having tasted it, wo ll change."
Iho old man declined this liberal
offer ; took Bert's advice to nelp him
self freoly to tho bread, wnich " didn't ,
cost anything, and nto his Roup with
prodigious relish, as it seemed to Bert,
who grew more and moro hospitable
and patronizing as tho repast proceeded.
" Come, now, won t you have some
thing between tho Roup and tho pie?
Don t bo afraid 1 11 pay for it.
Thanksgiving don't come but onco a
year. Ion won t. A cup of tea, then,
to go with your pie ?"
" I think I will havo a cup of tea you
aro so kind," said tho man.
"All right! nere, waiter! Two
pieces of your fattest and biggest squash
pie ; and a cup of tea strong ! for this
gentleman.
"Pvetold you about myself, added
Bert; "aupposo you tell inc some
thing ?"
"About rayeelf ?"
" Yes. I tnink that would go pretty
well with tho pie."
But tho man shook his head. "1
could go back and toll about my plans
and hopes when I was a lal of your age;
but it would be too much like your own
fetory over again. Life isn't what we
think it will be, when we are young.
You'll find that out soon enough. I am
all alone in tho world now ; and I am
G7 vears old.
"Havo some cheese with vour 'iiic.
won't you? Jt must be so lonely ,'rttt
your age ! What do you do for a
living i"
"I 'havo a little place in Devonshire
strett. My name is Crooker. You'll
lind me up two flight! of stairs, back
room at the right. Come aud see me,
and I'll tell you all about ray business,
and perhaps help you to such a placo as
you want, for 1 know several business
men. Now don i fail.
And Mr. Crooker wroto his address,
with a littlft stub of a pencil, on a corner
of the newspaper which had led to their
acquaintance, toro it off carefully, and
gave it to Brt.
Theroupon the latter took a card from
his pocket not a very clean one, I must
say (I am speaking of tho card, though
the remark will apply equally well to
the pocket), and handed it across the
table to his nw friend.
" Jlerbfrt Hampton, Dealer in Ntws
papers" the old man road, with his
sharp gray eyes, which glowed up fun
nily at Berc, seeming to . say, " Isn't
this rather aristocratic for a 12-yoar-old
newsboy ?"
Bert blushed and eiplainod. " Got
up for mo by a printer's boy I know.
I'd done Borne favors for him, and so
ho mado me a few cards. Handy to
havo. sometimes, you Jrnow.
"Well, Herbert," said tho littlo old
man, " I'm glad to have made your ac
quaintance. The pie was excellent
not any more, inane you ana x nope
you'll come and see me. You'll find mo
in very humble quarters ; but you are
not aristocratic, you say. Now won't
yon let mo pay for my dinner ? I be
hove I have money enough. ict mo
Bee."
Bert would not hear of such a thing ;
but walked up to tho desk, and settled
tho bill with the air of a person who did
not regard a trifling cxponso.
When he looked round again, tbo little
old man was crone.
" Now mind ; 111 go and see him the
first chanco I have," said Bert, as ha
looked at the penciled strip of nowspa-
per margin again before putting it into
his pocket.
He then went round to his miserable
quarters, in the top of a cheap lodging
house, .whereto, maJe?Tiimseif ready, by
meaiiN of mp and water and, a broken
odinbj'ta walk five bnilea 'irSto tho "'"sub
urbs, and fcel a' sight, if only, forj Wva
minute, of his motaer.
On tho following Monday, Bert,having
a leisure hour, went to call on his new
acquaintance in Devonshire street.
Having climbed the two flights, ho
found tho door of tho back room at tho
right ajar, and, looking in, saw Mr.
Crooker at a desk, in tho act of receiving
a roll of nionoy from a well-dressed
visitor. ;
Bert entered unnoticed, and waited
till tho money was counted and a receipt
siguod. Then, as : tho visitor departed,
old Mr. Crooker looked round and saw
Bert, lie , offered him a, chair; then
turned to lock up the money iu a safe.
"So this is your placo of business?"
said Bert, dancing about the plain oilice
room. " Whtt dj you do here ?"
"I buy real estate, sometimes sell
rent and so forth."
"Who for?" asked Bert.
"Fo myself,", said little old Mr.
Crooker, with a smile. . .
Bert stared, perfectly aghast, at this
situation. This, then, was the man
whom ho hail invited to dinner and
treated so patronizingly tho preceding
Thursday !
"I I thought vou was a poor
man!" -
"I am a poor man," paid Mr. Crocker,
locking his safe. " Money don't make a
man rich. I've money enough. I awn
houses iu tho city. ,They give me some
thing to think of, and so keep me alive.
I had truer riches once, but I lost them
long ago." ;
From the way tho old man's voico
trembled and eyes glistenod, Bert
thonght he must have meant by these
riches friends ho had lost wife and
children, perhaps.
" To tnink of rue inviting you to
dinner!" ho criod, abashed and
ashamed.
"It was odd!" And Mr. Crooker
showed his white front teeth with a
smile. "But it may turn out to have
been a lucky circumstance for both of
us. I like you. I believe in you, and
I've an offer to mako you. I want a
trusty, bright boy in this office some
body I can bring up to my business,
and leav6 it with, as I get too old to at
tend to it myself. What do you Bay ?"
Wnat could Bert say!
Again that afternoon he walked or
rather ran to his mother ; and, after
consulting with her, joyfully accepted
Mr. Crooker s oiler.
Interviews between his mother and
his employer soon followed, resulting in
something for which at first tho boy had
not dared to hope. The lonely, child
lees old man, who owned so many
houses, wanted a homo ; and ono of
those houses ho offered to Mrs. Hamp
ton, with ample support Jor herself and
children, if sho would also mako it a
home for him.
Of course this proposition was ac
cepted ; and Bert soon had the satisfac
tion of seeing tho great ambition of his
life accomplished. Ho had employ
ment, which promised to become a
profitable business (as indeed it did in a
lew years, he and the old man proved f o
useful to each other) ; and, more than
that, ho was united onco moro with his
mother and sisters in a happy home,
where he has since had a good many
Thanksgiving dinners. J. T. Trow
bridge.
A Mysterious Pauper.
Tho Warrington Union at .present
shelters an interesting being, known in
the district as the Mysterious Pauper.
Mr. Moses Woods (M. P., for ho has
quite a right to the initials) bai been for
four years a mystery to his medical at
tendants and to the guardians. The ex
traordinary thing about hira is that he
clings fondly t) stimulants and other
luxuries not generally supplied to pau
pers who are not mysterious. "When
these are taken from him," wo read,
his violence is almost ungovernable.
and it is feared that he will do hisueigh
l)ors a mischief. Ho has therefore to bo
removed to a separate room, where,
with his wino and other stimulants, he
must be pretty comfortable. It has oc
curred to him lately to feign insnnity,
and ko begs in most plte.ous tones for
tho loan of a pistol or a sword wnere
with to avenge himself on his nurse.
Though it seems a pity to annoy a rays-
tenons pauper by paltry restrictions, wo
nre told that his request to bo accom
modated with a sword has not yet been
complied with by the guardians. Though
apparently in a very weak condition,
tho poor fellow has strength enough left
to War up his clothes nnd to break tho
vessels in which his food is brought to
him. He often refuses to get up in tho
morning, aud, with views on tho subject
quite opposed to thofo of tho hardy
Norseman, declares that, as a matter of
choice, "he will dio in txjd." Seme of
the authorities have a theory that Mr.
Woods is "wanted by tho polico of his
native land, which occounts, they say,
for his disinclination to leave the house.
Other people will explain his delay bv
tne fact tiiat no knows when lie is well
off. Since the days of the Man in tho
Iron Mask," wl oso conduct in some
respects was like that of Mr. Woods, we
havo not heard of a prisoner, not to say
a pauper, so mysterious, and so myster
iously treated by his guardians. Lon
don News.
A Fatal Coou-llunt.
We learn that several negroes started
out to hunt coons near narrodsburg, in
Meroer county, Ky., one night last week.
A quarrel arose between two of tho ne
groes in the woods, when one was shot
and killed. His friends remained and
took charge of the body, while the rest
of tho crowd proceeded with the hunt.
A little later one of the negroes climbed
a treo to shako down a coon. The negro
foil and was instantly killed. The coon
fell among tho dogs and a terrible fight
ensued. In attempting to separate coon
and dogs another negro had Ids leg lit
erally torn to pieces by a dog. Ho then
killed the dog. The coon next suc
cumbed to fate, and his death ends the
list of casualties during that coon hnnt.
The murderer has been apprehended.
Midway Sun.
The pumpkin returns aro coming in.
John Lhr, of York township, Pa., re
ports having raised one weighing seventy-six
pounds, which n California fanner
eclipsos with on3 which turns the beam
at 232 pounds.
THE LAST OF Ll 31 ME IPS.
A' Faiuona 'inniton Sporting; Hotel lWn
. v-w ' J J Down,! v 1 '"' ' "
" LtmmcrV," ft Celebrated tavern in
the west end of London, has oeh de
moliHhed. It was to onr fathers' and
grandfathers what tho Turf Club, Pratt's,
tho Victoria and Albert aro . to. sporting
men of to-day. The London. 'Jett graph
indulges iu r tho ; following comments
upon the event : T
"The name of Limmer's Hotel, as be
ing tho foremost tavern of iU clas in
tho world, lias ln-en coextensive in cel
ebrity with WeathcrbyVand Tatter
sail's. '' Crop after crop of gallant and
light hearted youngsters has arisen, has
run it courso and fatten lefore the in
exorable scytho of the bookmaker, leav
ing no other record of its existence, and
no other epitaph than the inscription of
its not always settled tavern accounts
upon the faithful and suggestive register
at Limmor's. What punishment have
not tho supporters of Limmer's endured
sinco the Princo Regent and Sheridan
and Beau Brummel cracked their first
bottle under its roof, when ttio -cMitury
was in its babyhood. Poor Berkeley
Craven dined there on the night preced
ing Bay Middleton's victory in the
Derby of 18130, and his anguished, mor
ibund cry of Jersey wins !' still rings
ominously as we catch it up from the
page ot ilaikos' tell-tale diary. When
Limmer's was at its zenith, from 1830 to
1800, wliat a troop of 4mal rogues'
thronged its passage?, were ' bitten' as
the old pharso ran by tho ' barn-mouse'
at its bar and in its coffee-room, and
mado it their favorite camping-ground
lis week followed week and left them
still in town. In that littlo mirror-paneled
recess at the bottom of tho coffeo
room the preliminaries of more prize
fights have been arranged by Sir St.
Vincent Cotton, Parson Ambrose, tho
late Lord Qneensberry, the famous
Marquis of Waterford, and two Jack
My t tens, the late Lord Longford, and
Tom Crommelin than iu the upper cham
ber of Mr. Dowling, editor of Jicll'tf
Life, or at Owen Swift's bar, or in Tom
Spring's back parlor, or Ben Caunt's
enuggry.
" A pursuit which was enthusiastically
supported and believed in by William
Windham, Charles James Fox, Lord
Althorp, and Lord Byron, stands in lit
tlo need of modern excuses oh behalf of
its promoters when Limmer's wan at its
apogee. Full many a well-known pugil
ist, with Michael-Angelo noso and
pquaro-cut jaw, has stood, cap in hand,
at the door of that historical coffee-room
within wliich Lord Queonsberry then
Lord Dmmlanrig and Capt. Wm. Peel
and the late Lord Strathmoro were tak
ing their moals. Whether it was break
fast, luncheon or dinner that they were
eating there was no clock and no incon
venient human monnter to tell. Tho
gas burnt by day and night alike, and
the genuine habitue of tho famous tav
ern came homo to le d when his day was
over and his humor prompted him. It
is but a few years since poor Chrloy
Wemyss, during a long sojourn at Lim
mer's, remarked that ho had never found
life in Loudon more cheap, seeing that
he never had occasion to wear anything
but evening clothes. In that capacious
coffee-room thero has been more Life
in London' enacted than Pierco Egan
ever recapitulated, or his 4 Tom and
Jerry' ever saw. ' In ono window stood
Col. Ouseley Higgins, Capt. William
Peol, and Cnpt. Little, debating, head
to head, how the ways and means were
to be found in order that Pioneer might
be sent to run for the. Worcester steeple
chase. At the table farthest from the
Couduit street windows was seated Jack
My t ton, with ample shirt-sleeves rolled
back over the cuffs of his evening coat,
and with a snowy expanse of shirt-bosom
upon which mico might have run races.
A servsnt, with an unroot kablc fighting
face, steals softly into the room with a
note from his master, Maj. Hope John
stone, who is immediately solicit
ed by Lord Lonford and Sir
Vincent Cotton to allow his valet
to Ikj trained by Johnny Walker
for a proximate prize-fight. The ser
vant who is nono other than William
Nelson, the breeder (before his recent
death) of Plebeian, tho winner of the
Middle Park plate firmly declines. At
the remote end of tho room, close to
Conduit street, sits Johnny O'Brien,
fresh from his triumphs with Jonathan
Wild in tho Goodwood stakes and Griras
ton in tho Goodwood cup. As night
falls thero is a motley gathering of sport
ing men 4 to see what is going on at
Limmer's.' Among them comes Mr.
Greville, with his blue evening coat end
brass buttons, and with the knob of his
stick held habitually up to his lips. He
asks for a modest 1,0(10 to 20 about
Alarm for the Cambridgeshire. Lord
Wicbelsea had just finished dinner at
the table adjoining tho column furthest
from tho fireplace, and proclaims his
anxiety to lay 5,000 to 40 on the
field. Old Justioe, with his lame leg
nnd his open book in hand, hobbles
hither and thither with a list of 4 dead
tins' up his sleeve. Even tho stately
Lord George mny occasionally be seen,
as he retires into a corner with his favor
ite commissioner, Harry Hill, before
walkirg down tho passage arm-in-arm
with his handsomo young friend, Frank
Villiers. Lord Cheterfield and Col.
Foroster came in fresh from a trial at
Bretby, which may possibly add a Mrs.
Taft or a Bathildo to tho scroll of
Ceearewitch or Cambridgeshire winners.
Lord Derby and Col. Anson are anxious
ly watching tho maneuvers of the com
missioner to whom they have instrusted
the manipulation of Scott's l)erby fa
vorite, against whom Sir Joseph Hawley
has sinco taken a shot by lavincr 5.000 to
200. Thero is not a reporter in the
room, and, if a non-sporting stranger
looks in, he is promptly charged half a
crown by the discriminating waiters for
his glass of B. nnd S.
44 It has long been a theory with mod
ern denizens of Limmer's that the luck
of the bouse departed when the old bare
and sanded floor was replaced by a
Brussels carpet. The truth is that when
Limmer's waa star tod, and called itself
the Prince Regent's Tavern, the famous
coffee-room was carpeted. But in an
evil hour it suggested itself to the rol
licking humor of tho mad Lord Wctsr
ford that the room was too hot, and in
an instant the blazincr coals were rakd
by him out of the grate and scattered
over the room. With a forcible ejacula
tion the then proprietor, Charles Renand,
declared that no fresh carpet should bo
laid down, and the younger generation
of visitors thought that the bar'; board?,
with their daily ooat of yellow noud, had
been characteristic of the house from tho
hour of its' birth." There are few now
litiugfto remember the first and most
famous of Limmer's waiters, whose name
is perpetuated on both sides of the At
lantic by n still favorite drink, in which
gin, Mda water, ico, lemon and sugar
nt e the constituent elements. 4 My name
i John Collins,' fang the gay youth of a
bygone age, head waiter at Limmer's,
corner of Conduit street, Hanover
square; my chief occupation is filling of
brimmers for all the young gontlemen
frequenters there. It was to liis vigilant
and characteristic prudence that somo
of his young clients owed the possession
of 4 a loophole of retreat,' which enabled
them to eocape without passing through
the easily-watched portal. It was not
unknown to poor Jack Mytton, with
whom many of tho most racy stories sug
gested by the hisloire inedite of the
world famous tavern will long be asso
ciated. There stands the table upon
which ho mounted, seemingly 4 three
sheets in the wind,' in order to lay
against the winner of tho Two Thousand,
Sir Tatten Sykes, for the Derby. When
his credit was exhausted and the backors
accepted his offers to as largo an extent
as they thought it possible he oould pay,
he ran up-stairs to his bed room and re
turned with several thousand-pouud
notes in his hand, which he proceeded
to lay on what he called reaJy-money
principles. 44 1 was not quite so drunk
as they thought," was his explanation to
a friend who questioned hint about his
proceedings on the eve of the lace. Tho
ponderous frame of Capt. Sutherland of
the Twelfth Lancers, is recalled by the
arm-chair which was specially built for
him, and in which he boasted that he
was 27 years old and weighed twenty
seven stone. Tho tavern which, as a
guest-house, nas probably run its earth
ly courso, and of which, before many
moons havo rolled away, there will be
nothing but memories left, occupies a
Bpace in the West-End life of London,
which no other building in the metrop
olis can so adequately fill. Its three
Prince cf Wales feathers, with their con
comitant 4Ich Dien,' link us with the
voluptuous days of the Prince Regent.
Limmer's was to our fathers and grand
fathers what the Turf Club, the Road
Club, Pratt's, tho Victoria, and the Al
bert aro to sporting men of to-day."
Tonsorial Art. aud Artists.
It is amusing to find 6no of thoso tra
ditional jokes which everybody reveres
becoming a reality. There, for instance,
is tho story of the rivalry between two
barbers in an English town who Icpt
reducing their prices until ono of them
offered to shave his customers for noth
ing. The other, not to bo outdone, put
up a sign iu theso words, 44 What do you
tbink ? I'll shave yor. for nothing and
give you u drink." Same of the barbers
of New York have determined to make
their prices for shaving 5 cents. Others,
afraid of the loss of custom, havo not
only reduced their prices to 5 cents, but
for this insignificant sum offer 44 a good
shave aud a good cigar," 41 a good shave
and a glass of beer," and one atrocious
barber even announces 44 a good shave
and a schooner of beer." As a general
thing we are in favor of a reduction in
prions. Bat tho barbers' method is very
like cruelty to animals. Tho man who
smokes cigars or drinks beer thereby
obtains a decided advantage over tho
man who does neither ; but it must be
confessed he runs a greater risk. In a
barber shop where you are shaved and
receive a cigar it would be bad enough
to bo compelled to inhale the poisonous
atmosphere, to say nothing of tho stran
gulation and expectoration thai would
follow smoking ono of tho weed3. Then
wo aro afraid that tho beer also, espe
cially in tho schooner establishment,
would bo as dangero is almost as a cup
of poison. Apart from all theso risks,
it is well known from the traditional an
ecdote that barbers always punctuate in
their heads, and that the famous sign
should have read : 44 What! Do you
think I'll shavo you for nothing and give
you a drink t" Wo trust that nobody
else will do anything so utterly absurd.
Even the barber is woithyof his hire,
and 10 cents is littlo enough for a shavo
nowadays, especially when wo consider
a tonsorial artist's manifold duties to his
customer. It is expected of him that
he will talk his subject so nearly to death
that ho lives as if by a miracle ; that his
up-strokes shall threaten his customer's
nose and hia down-strokes his ear with
out touching them ; that ho shall care
fully scau the beard so as always to go
44 against the grain;" and that by all the
means in his power ho shall minister to
the discomfort of the poor wretch in his
hands. Ten cents is little enough for
such a desperate operation, and it is idle
to talk of a cigar or a schooner of beer
in such a case. New York Herald.
Canines Mefk in Spiilt.
An Omaha liveiy-stablo keeper owned
a fine lot of coach dogs. These dogs are
white, with black spots all over them,
and aro noted for their docile, not to say
oowardly, dispositions. Tho dogs be
longing to the livery-stable keeper were
beset on all occasions by tho other dogs
in the streets, and, as they were meek in
spirit, were as easily overcome as a lot of
sheep The liver) -stable man stood this,
as long aa he could, whe,n, one day, he
found a largo, white bull-dog, and it im
mediately occurred to him what to do.
He bought that dog, took him to his
stable, and there kept him until he got
thoroughly acquainted with the coach
dogs. The bull-dog was tken sent to
tho barber's shop, and black spots were
neatly painted or dyed all over him, so
that ho looked like a veritablo coach
dog, with a somewhat short noso and
elongated lower jaw. The noxt timo tho
carnage was sent out this model conch
dog went along, and tho street dogs
44 went for him," thinking they would
have their usual pport and victory ; but
in this they were mistaken; tho bull
dog waded in, and tho way tho hair,
guitar-strings aud sausage-meat flew was
a caution. Since that timo tho coach
dogs have been let alone.
A ixxj, near Norfolk, Va., was taught
to wait every day for a railroad train,
catch a newppaper thrown out by tho
baggage-master, and carry it home. His
master died several mouths ago, but he
goes every d.iy to get the newspaper,
and gazes after tho cars in apparent dis
appointment when nothing is thrown to
hira.
4 People mid Tilings. M 1 J : "'
The latest histories leave off Pitts
burgh's 44 h." .
Muh. Mixxoii. of California, has a
lino of stages.
There are one-fourth more, blondes
than brunettes.
A woman runs tho Coast Line of stages
in Northern California.
Tennessee has Q2fi
on the Cincinnati Southern railroad.
California seems to be the only State
now that has a Maj. Paulino Cushman.
The business
year has diminished tho consumption of
' rU.UU?.
Henky Saltonstall of Massachusetts
recently owned a cow that gave 13,065
quarts of milk in a year.
Fra Diavou) and Zerlina were real
personages. Gen. Hugo, the father of
the poet, himself captured the brigand.
TriE Heywood fund, for the benefit of
tho Northtield cashier who lost his life
in defending his trust, has reached the
sum of $13,000.
Headlines in a St. Louis paper : 44A
Book Agent Bounced It was Bono by
a Woman Whom He Insulted, aiul in a
Very Effective Manner."
A reform is about to be inaugurated
in tho imperial Ottoman army. By
order of the Sultan the oflicers ara in
futuro to wear epaulets.
Tnn New York Commercial Adver
tiser states that Alex. Steel's canary
died recently, at the ripo old age of
24 vears and fl months. Mr. Stivl han
had the bird IJsince it was 2 months
OKI.
When races first camo , into fashion
in Franco the many went for fun, the
few to bet. Now the bettincr element
has assumed an alarmingly large pro
portion, anu great sums ore lost and
won.
A child 2 years old has been pois
oned at a village near Frodsbam, in
England, by drinking from a bottle con
taining carbolic acid, which its mother
had given it to play with in bed 44 to pac
ify it."
The Boston Herald says that 44 the
man who takes up his morning paper,
and doesn't find an account of a new
murder in Vermont, knows it is the fault
of the news-gatherers and not of the Ver
monters." It is noted as a singular fact that the
fifty newspapers in Turkey published in
the Turkish language are managed either
by Greeks cr by Armenians. The very
official organ in Constantinople is edited
by an Armenian.
Many of the Indiana citios are estab
lishing high schools for the winter
months, for the benefit of youths and
young men and women whoso necessities
havo prevented them from attaining a
common school education.
Judge Weaver was on eminent jur
ist in Texas, a lemarkable orator, an
honorable man and a drunkard. Tho
latter trait has just killed him. After
failing in earnest efforts to reform, he
took a fatal dose of chloral.
When a bright young preacher comes
along in London, and Mr. Spurgeon is
asked if he doesn't fear a rival, he calmly
replies : 44 When a new coach is put on
the road, the old coach must make up its
mind to horse up or lose customers."
Lotis XIV. onco submitted some of
his poetic ventures to Boileau, and asked
him what he thought of them. 44 Noth
ing, sire, is impossible to Your Majesty,"
replied the candid critic. 44 You wisned
to make bad verses, and you have suc
ceeded." TnE imitative Chinaman of Shanghai
has tried his dexterous hand on a coun
terfeit 25 note of the Hong Kong and
Shanghai Banking Company, and has
produced an article that tho most expert
teller coald not tell from tho genuine,
but for tho fact that the date is 44 Dec
35, 1871." .
A man sweeping a sidewalk will some
times stay his horrid broom to let a fellow-being
pass; a woman sweeping, and
better the passer had crawled into a dust
cart. A sweet unconsciousness of all
sare her owu existence seems to charac
terize woman in all tho walk3 of life,
particularly the sidewalks.
A Bckmese drama is a protracted en
joyment. The performance usually be
gins about 9 p. m., lasting until day
light, when an intermission is taken
until night again. Four or five nights
are often consumed in a single comedy.
The Burmese families sometimes carry
their bods to the theater with them.
Thkhe wm a taltered brggar-iuan,
Aud he loved a ludy well
" I hv a Lrart to buy," he nalJ,
And you have Rold to aell."
There was a l'rince of hih degree,
And he loved the lady vrell
" I have a crown to buy,' he nald,
" And you kave a hart to aell."
To tho boKKr-carl he laughed a Iangh,
To the prince hho frowned a frown
" IIS give my gold for the beggar'i heart.
Hut no heart for the iTinoe'n crown."
The Caucasian is 4 4 played out" in
Indianapolis. Says tho Sentinel : 44 On
the Circle yesterday a white man
knocked a Chinaman down for somo
real or fancied grievanco, and the eternal
fitneas of things was illustrated by tho
promptness with wbich a negro police
man arrested and took tho assaulter to
tho station-house."
der in England has been greater in 1875
tlinn in nnv iifoinlinff rnar tin a
figures being, since 1870, respectively,
11 AO r.O and PJ Hhnnttntr wrmnl-
ing, and stabbing have also increased,
l ..
having been 397. Crimes against prop
erty, and pauperism are, however,
eteadily decreasing.
A Soldier ot Fortune.
Henry Islop Mclvar, a native of Edin
burgh, is a leader in the Servian army.
He hns fought cn four continents in
twenty years, aud almost always on tho
sido of the smallest numbers. He gained
a medal in tho Indian mutiny, fought
under Garibaldi in 1859, under Leo in
18C1, for tho Mexicans after the rebel
lion, with a littlo Indian skirmishing in
Texa?. ne was in the Cretan rebellion,
served in Greece against tho brigands,
was in tho patriot army in Cuba for a
while, and then had a cavalry command
in Egypt. He fought iu Franco under
Faldherbo against the Germans, turned
iin in Taris as a Comniuuiit, went to
Herzegovina as correspondent of a Lon
don paper, and is now a leader of
Servian irregular?.