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THE FREE PRESS.
the the by in not the as to it a as ful in be as GRAN GE VILLE, IDAHO. TELL YOUR MOTHER. A Bit of Advice to Silly and Romantic Young; Women. I wonder bow many girls tell their mothers every thing! Not those "young ladies," who, going to and from school, smile, bow and exchange notes and cartes de visite with young men who make fun of you and your pii speaking in a way that would vour cheeks burn with shame if you heard it All this, most incredulous and romantic young ladies, they will do, although they gaze at your fresh young faces admiringly, and send or give your oharming verses or boquets. No matter "what other girls may do," don't you do it School-girl flirtation may end disastrously, as many a fool ish and wretched young girl can tell you. Your yearning for some one to love is a great need of a woman's heart. But there is a time for everything. Do not let the bloom and freshness vour heart be brushed off in silly flirta tion. ictures, make of And, above all, tell your mother ry thing. "Fun" in your dictionary would be indiscretion.in hers. It would do no harm to look and see. Never be ashamed to tell her, who should be your best friend and confidant, all you think and feel. It is very strange that so many young girls will tell every person before "mother" that which is most important she should know. It is very sad that indifferent persons should know more about her fair young daugh ter than she herself. Have no secrets that you would not be willing to trust to your mother. She is your best friend, and is ever devoted to your honor and interest. Tell her all.— Fanny Fern. eve "THE CURSE OF SLANG. A Fair Girl Graduate Illustrate* the Truth ol Her Essay'* Title. "Mamie," said a grammar-school girl to a member of the graduating class, "have you finished your essay?" "O, yes," gushed Mamie; "and it is too lovely for anything—a princess slip of white surah, the back cut off a little below the waist line, and full breadths of silk gathered in so as to hang grace fully over the tornure, and three bias ruffles on the-" "Why, what are you talking about?" interrupted her friend. "1 mean, have you finished writing know?" "Er —no," said Mamie, her enthusi asm rapidly diminishing; "but I have begun it, and 1 wish the awful thing was in Halifax!" "What's the subject?" "The Curse of Slang." "Gracious! Isn't that a difficult sub ject to write up?" "Difficult! Well, I should giggle! I'll have to hump myself to get it finished in time for the commencement, and I've a good notion to let it slide. I might Shut up the Professor's optic by plead ing illness, but I'm not that sort of a hairpin. But come, waltz up into my room and look at my stunning gradu ating harness. It'll paralyze you."— Forriclown Herald. your essay, you -r RACHEL'S CUPIDITY. How th« Great Jewish A etree« Solicited Valuable Gifts. Rachel, the famous tragedienne, was as avaricious as she was gifted. On one occasion she was invited to dine at the house of a wealthy Parisian who worshipped her genius. Observing a magnificent boquet of flowers that adorned the center of the table she ex elaimed: "How lovely!" "Pardon, mademoiselle," said her host with true French gallantry, "per mettez moi de vous presenter cela," at • the same time lifting the flowers out of the massive silver vase in which they rested. "But, monsieur," said Rachel, "'twas the vase that I admired." "Parfailment, e'est a vous aussi, (this is yours also)" said the ever-polite host. When the repast was finished she asked her friend to send her home in his own carriage, as she was afraid lome one might rob her of her silver vase if she returned in a public cab. He assented readily, but as he handed her into the vehicle he said imploringly: "You will at least return mv carriage, «rill you not, mademoiselle?" It may be presumed that the coach same back.— Texas Siftings. WILL SHOW UP. A rromln.nt Citizen Contemplate, a Sur prise for Chisago Detectives. "I'm going to Chicago to show my telf," said a conspicuous, talkative pas senger to a crowd of listeners in the imoking car. What for? Well, I'll tell you. 'Tain't because I'm proud of my personal appearance, though folks do say I'm a man that's likely to attract attention in a crowd. You see, there's five or six men up in Chicago who have been looking for me for a month, at least, sol have heard. Why they haven't found me is more than I can imagine. I live only fifty miles from Chicago, in a right smart of a town. I'm quite a prom inent citizen, too. There ain't nobody down my way that don't know me. My . There on the name is frequently in the papers isn't a conductor or brakeman railroad who doesn't know me by sight, and most of 'em to talk to. Yet these Chicago fellows haven't been able to a find me. I haven't any idea on earth «rhat they want to see me about, but I'm going up to Chicago to show my n lust for fun." "Who been looking for yon?' "City hall detectives »elf are these fellows who have II — Chicago Uer eld. —A veritable "«Ink," akin to that of the Humboldt cirer, In Nevada, la in prooe as of formation at the month of the Baa Lorenzo in California. Where for merly a large stream eat He we y throagh the shifting but a small stream, easily stepped over sands to tha ooaaa be IN THE SICK ROOM. Th. Experten«, of An Intelligent Mor.e Presented In Popular Form. "In summer persons caring for the sick invariably raise the windows from the bottom," remarked a trained nurse. "Now, except in very sultry, close weather this should not be done. The sick-room should be constantly supplied with fresh air, but It should be admitted in such a way as to cause no strong current near or about the patient. The best way is to drop the windows from the top. Cool air being heavier descends, and when introduced high up purifies and freshens the at mosphere more thoroughly. It is always dangerous to open a window m the direction from whioh the wind is blowing. "People who are not disturbed by disorder when well are often irritated by the least confusion in the arrange ment of a room when ill. Every thing in the room should be carefully ad justed to the best advantage, for a sick person's fancy Nothing should around carelessly. The table should not be littered with books and papers. Flowers should be kept no longer than absolutely fresh. Medicine and water glasses should be oarefnlly washed and kept from the sight of the patient. The constant sight of medicine is not only trying to an invalid but often nauseating. "No food should ever be prepared in the sick-room. If only a small bowl of broth, it should be served as invitingly as possible. Nor should a bowl of broth or gruel or a cup of tea be carried to the sick person in your hand; place it on a tray covered with a clean napkin. Bring but a little quantity at a time, for a large quantity is apt to take away the patient's appetite. If possible, alwavs serve too little, reserving a supply until asked for more. If the should order a larger amount than the patient can take at one time, as for instance, a cupful of milk or broth, try only a little, a tablespoon ful or so at a time. If the stomach re jects even this, try even less. Too great care can not be observed in all these seeming small details. With persons of highly sensitive nervous organizations the observance of these apparently trivial things often menus the issue of life or death. •"Absolute cleanliness is imperative in the sick room. The bed linen should be changed at least everv other day, unless the patient's condition is such as to make it impracticable. Sprinkle the carpet with tea leaves before sweep ing, and dust with a damp cloth. Cleanliness is the only means by whioh the air can be kept pure, especially in summer. Impure air, whether in the sick room or otherwise on the premises, readily becomes poison. Cleanliness in summer is not only essential to the recovery of the sick, but to the con tinuance of good health to those who are well. "It is never desirable to darken a sick room except in some nervous dis eases. affections of the eyes, or in the acute stages of the disease. There are persons whose nervous systems have become so disarranged that the broad daylight Is an actual pain to them and nothing so grateful to their disturbed nerves as the darkness. Light, how ever, is an important adjunct in conva lescence. When the patient is very sick it is easy to admit plenty of lieht without allowing it to fall in such a way as to occasion annoyance. Be sure that tha lamp does not smoke or give out a bad odor at nieht, and that the gas does not lesk, and that the lamp is not so pisced as to make shadows flicker within sight of the patient when vea keep it burning all night. If the gas Jet causes this effect on the wall, shade it in such a manner as to prevent, the formation of distracting shadows. Little things that in health would be unnoticed often have a disastrous influ ence on a system weakened by long or severe illness. "For all stomach inflammations or irritations there is generallv nothing ett er than cracked ice. Ths lnmps can be allowed to melt in the mouth. One supplv of ice can be made to last for a number of hours by lavinsr it in a piece of coarse flannel suspended in a bowl. Take a deep bowl, holding a quart or more and a piece of coarse flannei. oblong in shape, about twice as long as it is broad. Fasten the flan nel around the bowl with a string in such way as to make it reach about half wav to the bottom. Put the cracked ice into this flannel cup aud cover it with the end left over because of the oblong shade. In this manner the ice is kept dry. the water running through the flannel into the bowl. "Another word about flowers: Keep no heavily scented blossoms near the sick person, and if flowers are placed near the bedside during the day re move them at. nieht. People with deli cate imaginations are often very sensi tive in regard to a preponderance of whi'e blossoms about them when very ill. They want to behold something vivid that speaks of throbbing life, not the symbolic flowers of death. "All idiosvncracies of the sick must be studied bv the intelligent nurse, for the best of physicians can do hut little to alleviate disease if not aided by skillful nursing."— Chicago News. — ■«♦ »■ Timely Work. Work is most profitable when it is applied at the right place and proper time. One of the beat ways of saving labor is to fight the weeds when they are young. Every day's growth al lowed them is just so much additional work, aa the harrow and cultivator car be made to perform what may here after require the plow. On the garden, if the seeds of the vegetables are up, n raking between the rows will deiav th use of the hoe and save work. Even hour's work saved is so mueh prof, snd gain, and by keeping a close watcl over the several departments the work may be bestowed just where it will b» the most serviceable, and everv farm ri should aim to do so.— Farm, field Stockman. tax be get ten ;he is to it. 1 It a is most capricious, be allowed to lie physician i of food, at I a to of in the for y an ï —It is said that the pods of lim beans are injurious to hogs, thougi they may bo freely fed to eewa ARTESIAN WELLS. a be to uni«'ill lie. and Ex pen., of Boring Hui. of is n b» ri dreda of Foot Into the Karth. It has been remarked from time t me that artesian wells are multiply ug in large Bumbers, especially ii large cities, where the water is at rimes, or all the time, quite unfit foi domestic purposes, and where largi factories find the meter charges and tax too expensive. Among the lattei class it has been proven by experiment that an artesian well soon repays ite cost with interest, but among the former class it is a luxury which cc'j be indulged only by people of means. Some of the large hotels of this city get their water supply by the aid of ttieso wells, and there are private fam ilies of wealth which have had these wells bored. The cost of an artesian well is com paratively «mall now to what it was ten years ago, competition in the busi ness having had the effect of reducing ;he price. These wells are made very much in the same way as are those from which oil is obtained. The great difference between the two, however, is that the water does not usually "spoilt." It generally makes its way to the surface and is pumped up to whatever height is wanted. The pos session of an artesian well, therefore, involves that of a pump, the cost of the pump and the expense of running it. When a well-borer is employed be contracts to sink the well at so much 1 er foot. He can not, of course, toll low far down he will have to go to reach water in desirable quantities. It may lie one hundred or five hundred feet. It is the consumer who assumes the risk of this. The price of work is from three dollars and fifty oents to twelve dollars a foot, according to the diameter of the well and other considerations. The borer sets up a derrick similar to those used in the oil regions, and fitted with a walking-beam, pulleys and a drum. Then, by the raising and dropping of a heavy weight, a section of pipe two or three feet long is driven into tho ground. When it has gone down so far that there are only a lew inches pro truding above the surface, a second section is screwed on its top, the heavy weight is set in motion and this in turn goes down into the earth. Section af ter section is screwed on until the pip ing strikes rock. Meanwhile, by means of what is called a sand-pump, the piping has been kept clear of earth and sand, with which it soon becomes choked, When rock is reached the process changes. The pipe, which has been forced with some difficulty down through strata of earth, sand and gravel, remains immovable against the the solid stone, and if the borer tried to drive it dowu with the iron weight, something would break, and that something would not be the rock. A long cylindrical mass of steel, made so that it will fit inside the piping, and weighing between three hundred and three thousand five hundred pounds, according to the hardness of the rock and the diameter of the piping through which it is to pass, is brought into piay. It is shaped at the end some thing like an axe. It is lowered by a metal rope through the piping. When it reaches the bottom it is raised a few feet by powerful machinery, and then suddenly dropped. This splits the rock and the broken pieces are forced to the surface by means of the sand pump. It is tiresome work going through the rock. Sometimes it takes several hours to bore one loot Very often when the rock-breaking is going on the rope that holds the iron breaker gives way, and the tool is left at the bottom of the well. This is a very trying situation for the con tractor, for there is great danger that his work will bave to be stopped, and that he will lose the money that it cost him, for the contractor is always the loser in such instances as a matter of course. There are implements speci ally made to recover the breakers, but the process is tedious, and sometimes the recovering apparatus itself lost Cases have been known where wells a few hundred feet deep, which have cost one thousand dollars have become so choked up with irre coverable implements that they have bad to be abandoned. The cost of an artesian well can scarcely be estimated, owing to the competition already mentioned. The expense to the borer of fitting up his derrick at the spot where he is to make a well is from one hundred dollars to one hundred and twenty-five dollars. This is before earth can be broken, and it includes cartage of machinery, boilers and derrick. Of course this has to be recovered from the sum stipu lated on per foot for boring, as the con sumer contracts to pay only for every foot completed, and to take no risks whatever. The borer says the compe tition that hAs reduced the price of an artesian well by fifty per cent, in four years has made the occupation of a borer a precarious one.—Philadelphia Bulletin. or more. A Deliberate Falsehood. ay-some Texas hotels the partition walls are so thin that the conversation in one room can be heard in the next. Two friends from the interior put up at a Galveston hotel and were given one room. The man in the next room overheard the following conversation about daybreak next morning: "I say. Bill, are you awake?" "I've been wide awake for the last two hours." "Lend me five dollars." "I've dozed off again." "I thought you were lying when you said you were wide awake."— Texa.' Siflings. —The other evening the little daugb ter of a Congressman was paying i visit at a neighbor's, and the respec tive mothers were talking of physic«' ailments and their remedies. After r while the little girl saw an opportnnit\ to make a remark. "My papa." «)> said, "always drinks whisky when In is sick." Then she stopped for ; minute, her eyes softened and snd dened, and she continued sJowU "And poor papa is sick nearly all tii 'ime. "— Washington Critic. ï LOVE OF NOTORIETY. Male and Female CrAnks Whose Ways Are Past Finding Out. The tendency of » certain sort of people to be fascinated by notoriety, and especially by criminal notoriety, is a curious study. A recent dispatch says that Mrs. Bartlett, the woman lately tried in England on a charge of poisoning her husband, has, since her acquittal, received several advantageous offers of marriage. Parallel cases may be found in plenty. Some twenty years ago a Scotch girl named Made leine Smith was tried at Glasgow for poisoning her lover. The evidence was strong against lier, but it was shown that the lover was a disreputa ble adventurer who had driven the girl to desperation by threatening her with the exposure of certain letters she had written to him, and the jury returned the Scotch verdict "Not Proven." No sooner was the prisoner free than offers of marriage poured in upon her, and this notwithstanding the general belief that she had killed the man. There appears to be a sort of "crank" theory of ethics, incomprehensible by the world at large, which governs such cases, for on ordinary lines of reason ing it is impossible to understand the desire of any man to link his life with a woman even suspected of a proclivity toward the use of toxic agents at criti cal domestic junctures. Nevertheless it is certain that fernab' poisoners from Lucruz'a Borgia to the Marchioness of Brinvilliers, and thence to the present day, have exercised thb strange fascination upon a class of weak minds, and not only poisoners or sus pected poisoners, but criminals of all kinds have had the same peculiar hom age paid to them. Laura Fair, who shot down Crittenden, the California lawyer, could have married any one of a dozen prosperous idiots after her ac quittal. Mrs. Dudley, who tried to kill O'Donovan Rossa, was offered several hands and hearts on the strength of her homicidal enterprise. The younsr woman who played the part of a female burglar in Brooklyn last year captured the affections of a stalwart farmer by her felonious capacity. Perhaps the dominant influence in those cases is that which attracted Fitz-James: "And were a path not dangean The dangor'* .elf were lure alone " It is well known »hat when Bluebeard flourished the most fearful rumors wore in circulation about the fate of his wives, but feminine curiosity, or enter prise, or whatever the influence, mas tered apprehension and the wicked man had no difficulty in replenishing his secret chamber from the best families of the neighborhood. The women are indeed not a whit be hind the men in yielding to the fasci nation of notoriety, as witness the strange exhibitions of sentimentality which take place from time to time in the straitened habitations of the place called Murderer's Row. What is it about a red-handed assasssin that exer cises so queer an attraction upon ten der women, that impels them to shower attentions upon him, to fill his cell with flowers, to lavish upon him marks of their kindness, to single him out from all the world for consolation and ap proval? Why, too, are such manifes tations so often specially reserved for the male criminals whose victims have been women? We speak of mysteries the elucidation of which seems hope less. The wavs of "cranks," be they male or female, are past finding out.— N. Y. Tribune. a A so a the It the the is is the of but a irre can the The his to this con risks an four a ns known, ESEK'S WISDOM. Sine Preclou, leuniu Taught by Strug gle. \V>th the World. The great beauty of charity is priva cy; there is a sweet force even in an anonymous penny. Men of great genius should not for get that their failings, or vices, are more apt to be notioed, and eveu ad mired, than their virtues. My frieud, if you must keep a pet, let it be one of the serene kind (a rattle snake or snapping turtle, for instance); this will exercise your caution and strengthen your genius. My dear boy, if you must part your hair in the middle, get it even, if you have to split a hair to do it. Independence is a name for what no man possesses; nothing, in the animate or inanimate world, is more depeudent than man. It isn't so much what a man has that makes him happy, as it is what he doesn't want. There are many comfortable people in the world, but to call any man per fectly happy is an insult. There is nothing so v tillable, and yet so cheap, as civility; you can al most buy 1 :tnil With it. The great mass of mankind can only gaze and wonder; if they undertake to th nk they grow listless, aud soon tire out . — Century. An Extenuating Circumstance. "Now, Uncle Moso," said Judge Smith, "it scums that you stole the only pullet that the widow Daniels possessed and there seems to bo no extenuating circumstance. I have known you a long time, and I never would have ex pected this of you. Do you think it worth while to risk a good character for one insignificant pullet?" "Mos' certainly not, your Honah. agrees wid you, but how was I ter know dat sich a 'spectablo-appearin' woman as de widow Daniels hud only one pullet? Don' think I should lose my character fur dat. I done tuck all she had, an' as I couldn't do more dan dat, yourself should count da' a '«tenu atin' circumstance .—Texas Siftings. next. up given room last you Texa.' i r «)> In ; snd tii —The guests at the hotels in Sacra mento, Cal., were literally besieged hi millions of beetles recently. The iri sects thronged the gardens and house in such numoers that the boarders wen compelled to make a stampede for tin roads to escape them. No other house were visited by the interlopers. —School property in tho South is va) ued at fti.000,000 against *«8,000,0 * in the North.— H. Y. Sun. PUMPKIN SEEDS. Th« Peculiar Properties of th« Seed« mnd their Value as a Food. it of "M I who to better in the h'air fell on on ing out. leys and low the for gan is my In off I One effect of pumpkin seeds is their action upon the kidneys. They are given as a diuretic medicine, as stated by Wood & Bache in their Dispensatory, and also used to expel tape-worm. Those who have watched their effect upon milch cows, believe that this ac tion upon the kidneys reduces their yield of milk. And this is certainly the natural effect that extra action of the kidneys must have upon the secretion of milk. also unfavorably affect fattening animals —hogs or cattle. Pumpelly, in t\is work "Across America and Asia," says the Chinese eat pumpkin seeds between tho courses at diener. This may be as an appetizer or digester. These seeds are rich in nitrogen and They are certainly very nutritious, and cattle and hogs are often eager to eat them. Some feeders of swine have been very successful in feed ng pump kins as a large part of the ration in fat tening then.. Experience seems to have been contradictory on this matter, but the explanation is simply tills: The seeds in small quantity are not delete rious to animals in good health, but when it happens in breaking or cutting pumpkins that the seeds get separat from the body of the pumpkin, ami these accumulated seeds are thrown to the animals in a mass, and an extra quantity is eaten by a few, it produces a bad effect. It is to be presumed that if hogs or young cattle eat only the common pro portion of seeds—that is, if it eats a pumpkin and the seeds that belong to it, no harm will be done, unless the pig or steer is in an unhealthy conditio... But as the seeds are so liable to get separated from thp body of the pump kin, it is safer to separate them, and ,f fed, give them in very small quantity. It is the seeds alone that act deleteri ously upon the kidneys. The pumpkin is a profitable crop to raise for feeding all the animals on the farm. Two to three tons per acre may be raised with very little labor corn field, and the food value per ton is greater than the best corn fodder. But it is not advisable to feed the seeds to milch cows—the danger is greater than the advantage.— Prof. Stewart, in Coun try Gentleman. Strong action like this must oil. up ed in tf'o WATCH THE COLONIES. Serious Mistakes In Bee-Keeping Which Can Easily be Avoided. Bees quickly detect individuals who are strangers, being, no doubt, guided by scent, and they also have a repug nance to articles that have been painted, greased, or in any manner renderetl of a disagreeable odor. The new hives, therefore, should be as clean as possible, and free from any taint of impurity. They should not be painted, nor should any thing be placed in them but a small quantity of sugar or pure syrup. The bees will carefully clean the hives after they take possession, and will keep them in good condition. It is very easy to make mistakes in bee-keeping, and they should be avoided as much as possible. Do not waste the comb. If the combs are gradually returned to the hives the bees will give them a thorough cleaning and utilize them, thereby sav ing a vast amount of labor that would otherwise be devoted to the production of honey, and extra combs should al ways be on hand for the use of new swarms. If a colony leaves the hive late in the season, when the harvest of honey is nearly over, the bees will have an arduous task to perform, if they are compelled to make both comb and honey. All hives should be covered in order to protect them from the rays > the sun and from dampness. One of the essentials in bee-keeping is a dry hive. Dampness is more injurious than cold, and the mistake of not properly protecting the hive may entail loss, keep a watch over the colonies, and avoid the mistake of being compelled to make or procure a hive just about the time the swarming is to occur. Have every thing in readiness, so as to .ocate the new colony as soon as pos sible.— Farm, Field and Stockman. as in let no he per and al to tire ,1 ROUGH FEED NEEDED. The Only System of Feeding Which In. sures Complete Digestion. All domestic animals need rough feed, or "stover," mixed along with the fine food, bogs as well as the rest. In the case of the ruminating animals, it is doubtful if grain or meal fed alone goes to the first stomach at all. A large ma jority of the experiments made to deter mine this point, clearly show that fine foods do not, to any material extent, go to the first stomach when fed to cattle alone; and if food does not go to the first ttomach, it can be only very imperfectly digested, since it escapes the macerating process of the rumen, and being remas ticated and mixed with the saliva. How true this is every large feeder of cattle, n the West at least, mustknow. A largo proportion of the kernels of corn eaten liy the animals is found in their drop pings, some whole, others broken, but all indigested. If they had passed into the first stomacn they would have been raised and remasticated, and certa lily would not have escaped this process scarcely broken. So it is when meal is fed. It passes into the third and fourth stomachs, a mass of dough, into which the gastric juices can not penetrate. It is true that the muscular contractions of the stomach will give a gentle motion to the dough; but this will make it more compact rather than of a character that the gastric juice can operate freely upon it. If, however, we mix this nn sl with cu Istraw or hay, the mixture will go to the first stomach, and will, of course, be remasticated, whilo the bits of straw or hay will allow the g as trie juice to circulate through the mass and insure complete digestion.— Washington Post. a ex it 1 ter lose all dan hi iri tin —In many parts of Chemung County, New York, and in other southorn tier counties, there is an unusual growth o red sorrel this season. Fields are cov ered with it where it was scarcely ever known before. Nor is its appearance confined to poor or inferior land. Some of the best wheat and tobacco land in the county is covered with it.— N. Y. Tribune. va) * A CERTIFICATE WANTED. "M Quad" Ran* Aero** a "Rlooalxg Champ'* on m Railroad Train. I just do like to run across an Englishman who is fresh to this coun ry and determined to combat American ideas. He is a good deal better company toan an Am-iricvn would be in Europe. Buch a chap rode with us from Vicks, urg over to Jackson. "Excuse me, ye know," he began as the conductor came along, "but I'd like a com partment to myself." There was no place to put him except la the baggage car, and when this was ascer tained he replied; "Ah, well, I'm no bloomin' chump, j% know! Is this a h'alr line railroad!" "Ne-rer heard that It was," said tha con ductor. "Then why didn't they direct me to ths h'air line! What's the use, ye know, in k fell <w creeping and twisting all over the country to fetch up at some plaoe which Is on a h'air line?" We had no sooner got him quieted down on that than he began to find fault with the scenery along the road. "It's devllsh awkward, ye know, to be g ax ing at nothing but a pine fordlt," he broke out. "If there are no mountains, cliffs, val leys or pretty villages, why not go to work and provide theml They can't expect a fel low to put up with such as this and go over the route another time," We rubbed him down geatly, and had re stored his good nature when we side-tracked for ten minutes for the other train to pass. "I'm no bloomin' chump, ye know," ha be gan at the end of two minutes, "but I otr tainly protest against this delay. If there is only one track, who is to blame for itl la my valuable time to be taken up in waiting here, because the other train is not on timel In the first plaoe, there is no h'air line; then there are no compartments; then ths scenery seta one crazy; then we must switek off and submit to delay. Gents, observe tha) I protest. " \ I n s. ]i(l4 i»* ÏŸ wP i s 'f/vÊ ma 7 w _r) J 3 of in of to I "Tm no bloomin' chump, ye fcnow." We patted him on the back and lulled the storm, but it broke 'out again as soon as we reached Jackson. He didn't like the situation of the hotel nor any of the rooms in it, nor the way the porter talked back at him, and he flung himself into a chair and exclaimed: "I'm no bloomin' chump, ye know, but I can't go this—really, I can't." While he had been fussing around we had put up a little job on him, and now In formed him that there was a carriage at the door to drive him to a tine hotel In the suburbs—a place we had not time to visit "That's jolly, and I won't forget the favor, ye know," he said as he tossed his bags into the hack and drove on. The driver was directed to take him out to the insane asylum, and the order was faithfully carried out "I'm a bloomin' chump If It isn't a fine building, though I can't say much for the scenery," said the man as they drove up. He alighted with all his baggage and en tered the superintendendent's office, about an hour he returned to the hotel, and bursting Into the office where we sat smok ing he hotly announced: "First, there is no h'air line; then no com partment then no scenery ; then no doubl* track; then I arrive at the tavern to fltd it only a third-rate club house; then I'm sent knocking about to a suburban hotel, and when I reach it what does the bald-headed old cock-a-coodle of a landlord inform met Why, gents, that I've got to have a certifi cate of insanity to be admitted! I'm a bloomin' chump if your blarsted country isn't enough to drive one wild!"—M. Quad in Detroit Free Press. In ,1 Engli.h as She 1. Spoke. Old Pete's boy had just returned from school. In relating an incident to his fathsr, he said: "I saw the man-" "What's datl Corns ober dat p'int er gin." "1 say that I saw the man, and-" "Hol' OA Yer saw de man, ehl" "Yes, sir." "Saw himr "That's what I said." "I do think befo' de Lawd," the old man said, "de mo' yer sends er nigger ter school de wus he gits. Heah dat boy's been goin' ter school nearly five y'ars, and now he come an' say dat he saw er man. Ah, Lawd, dar ain' no us'n tryin' ter larn 'stronomy ter *r nigger. Why doan yer lay T seed er gener man,' sah I" "Because that wouldn't be right." "Nervy," speaking to his wife, "han' me dat plow line. Blame ef he shall slaughter his mudder tongue in no sicher way. Oh, I kin beat ali de school, in l'arnin' yer suth in\"—Arkansaw Traveler. Sure ProTldenee Had Nothing Again.» Them. "I Me Judge Holster is dead," remarked a Nevada man sadly, laying down his news paper. "Well, he was a pious man, and there's no doubt about where he's gone to, anyway. It was in Washington, one win ter long ego. The judge and I got looee, you understand—got on a reg'iar all night, everything-goes kind of a little time. Our heads were monstrous in the morning, but we had to catch the train for New York, so we got up. It was a sleety morning and the sidewa ks were covered with a sheet of smon'h ice. " 'Judge,' says I, 'it'll be lucky if we get to the cars without breaking a leg.' "'Don't you worry, Jim,' says he, with a calm confidence that thrilled ma 'Don't you worry. If God had anything against you and me he'd have taken it out of us last night,' "And," concluded the Comstocker, his face glorified with holy enthusiasm, "al though both of us were biled clear through, I'm hanged if either of us got even a tumble on the way to the depot."—San Francisco Post, is go is It of to sl of Among Bummer Boarder*. City guest*—Those egg* don't aeem to b* a* fresh as they ought to be. Farmer— G eat gosh! what kin yer ex pect) Jest see the distanoo they cum. Th* city is fifty mile from hera Th* Catskill hotel keeper now take* you on top of the barn, points out Vermont, the Maine election. Nova Scotia, Canada, Mary Anderson's bat and the man who fell off th* bridge lost summer, but forget* to mention the bed or introduce you to the brass lined rooster in th* back yard.—The Judga. tier o