Forty, Less One.
BY JAMES RICHARDSON.
Over by th tangled thicket,
Where the level meets the hill,
Where the mealy alder bushes
Crowd around the ruioed mill
Where the thiushes whittle early,
W here the midges love to play,
Wheie the nettles, tall and stinging,
Guai the vine obstructed way,
Where the tired brooklet lingers
In a quiet little pool,
Mi&trebb Salmo Fontinahs
Keeps a verv private school.
Forty little speckled beauties
Come to learn of 'icr, each day,
How to climb the foaming rapids,
Where the flabhing sunbeams play,
How to navierate the eddies,
How to sink and how to rise,
How to watoh for passing perils,
How to leap for parsing flies,
When to play upon the surtace,
When beneath the stones to hide,
All the 6ecrets of the water,
All brook learning, true andtried.
"That's a good-for-nothing skipper
"That's a harmless yellow-bird
"That's the flicker of the shine,
When the alder leaves are stirred
"Thai's the shadow of a cloudlet."
"That's a squirrel come to d-ink
"Thai's look outforhim, my darlings!
He's afieice and hungry mink
"Trial's the ripple on the water,
When the winds the wavelets stir
"Thatsnap quick, my little hearties!
That's a lucious grasshopper."
So the clever Mistress Salmo
Gives her counsel, day by day,
Teaching all the troutly virtues,
All life's, lessons grave and nay.
Well she knows t*ie flashing terror
Of King Fishei's sudden fall!
Well she knows the lurking danger
Of the barb'd hook, keen and small!
Well she tries to warn her pupils
Of all evils, low and high!
But, alas! the vain young tnflers
Sometimes disobeyand die!
What was that which passed so quickly,
With a slender shade behind?
What is that wLich stires the alder,
When no ripple tells of wind9
W hat 6ends Mistress Salmo daiting
Underneath the stones in fear?
Crying, "Hide ourselves, my darlings,
Our worst enemy is near!"
"I am bound to understand it,"
Savs one self proud speckle-side
"When I see the danger's real,
Then if need be, I can hide."
Bo he waits alone and watches,
Sees the shadow pass again,
Sees a fly drop on the water,
Dashes at it, misrht and main,
"Missed it! Wt 11," he Bays, "I never!
That's the worstjump made to-day!
Here another comes now for it!"
Splash! He's in the airto stay!
When the alders cease to tremble,
Silence comes and sun-glints shine,
Mistress Salmo Fontinahs,
Calls the rolljust thirty-nine'
St. Nicholas for July.
HISTORICAL HOVXES.
Borne of flio Practical Jokes That Have
Passed into History.
BrooklynEagle
The degree of humor which people
whose humor is abnormally developed
can extract from hoaxes and practical
jokes is a perpetual puzzle to staid and
steady people. It is a cruel sort of hum
or, which finds its keenest pleasure in
rendering other people uncomfoi table
and unhappy. No matter how much the
victim of the joke may suffer, mentally
or physically, the professional hoaxer
must and will have his joke, and
this he will have reckless of all consu
quences. A prebent Senator of this State
from one of the country districts was the
unintentional cause of a divorce He
had a triend who was a confirmed joker.
They were both lawyers and met at cer
tain times of the year in various cities of
their judicial distucts when traveling the
circu The Senator had often been the
vietim of his friend, and waited patiently
the opportunity to have his revenge.
One day as the Senator entered the din
ing room of a hotel in Herkimer County
he saw his humorous niend sitting a: a
table engageo in cloae conversation with
a lady. He advanced to speak to him.
The fiiend. seeing him, arose and greet
inet him turned to the lady and said:
"My dear, this is my friend, Judge
of whom you have heard me speak.
Judge my wife."
The Senator bowed and then stared
with surprise.
"Your wife?" he inquired in a puzzled
tone.
"Yes, my wife," replied his friend.
"Oh, no," was the Senator's reply.
"That will not do. This is not the lad?
you introduced as your wife last term at
Otsego County. This lady is dark, your
wifo is lurht. Oh, no that won't do. None
our jokes upon me."
ith that he turned away, leaving the
.e dumbfounded and angry, and the
ofessional joker for once nonplussed
le Senator told the story, and every
'here the joker was Jaughed at as the
joke was continued. His wife demanded
an explanation. He tried to assert that it
was but a joke of the Judge's, but the
Judge wouldn't say so on the contrary
he presisted in his statement, which was
confirmed by the other lawyer spresent, ail
of whom were now ob aining a revenge.
The wife believed not her husband, but
his friends, and could not be persuaded
out that her husband had been unfaith
ful to his marriage vows. The result was
jealousy, bickering and quarrelin which
eventuated in a divorce. This was severe
punishment, and successfully cured the
divorced man of practical king
It was Lord Norbury ot England who
made one of best witicisms ever made
from the bench at the expense of the
prisoner. It was at the time when rob
bery was punished by han-ing He was
sentencing to death a thief who had stolen
a watch: "You made a grasp at time, my
lad, but you clutched eternitv."
For a cheeky defense when caught in
the act," commend us to this story of a
Parisian thief at the steeple-chases, who
was caught by a detective with his hand
in a lady's pocket. "I am no thief," the
pickpocket indignantly protested "I am
-iWiiniiiMutinmitiurilm
in love with this lady, and was ouly ^-hp
ping a note in her pt eker," and he pro
duced in proof a love letter hidden in the
palm of liis hand. However, the ladj
w old and ugly, and forty-two purses
were found on the ingenious Frenchman.
An American pickpocket, caught on a
Third-avenue car with his hand in a gen
tleman's watch-pocket, laconically and
smilingly said: Excuse me, sir."
HOW POLICEMEN HAVE BEEN FOOLED.
Nothing probfbly gives more delight
to the criminal heart than, by means of
some trick, to "get square" with a police
man Some few years ago there was an
old Constable in Ocean County, N. J.,
who prided himself greatly on his de
portment." He wished to be considered,
as he really was, a very polite man. A
well-known New York thief being in
custody was taken to Court where the po
lite old Constable stood guard at the end
of the bench in which the criminals had
been ushered, and in which there hap
pened to be, ut the time, two or three
persons who were merely spectators. The
New Yoruer saw at a glance the weak
ness of the old Constable, and at a mo
ment when business was at its height
said politely to the officer: "Excuse me,
sir, will you allow me to pass? I see my
brother, the other witness, at the door.
So cooley was this said, and so politely
too, that"Jld Deportment," as he was
called, did not for a moment doubt that
all was right, and that the speaker was
one of the spectators. The man who saw
his "brother" at the door made for the
opening as rapiuly as consistency would
permit, and was never seen in those parts
again.
Some months ago the New York pap
ers contained an item about Mr. John
Dobbs, probably the smartest bank burg
lar in the country, against whom there is
a standing reward ot $1,000 for his appre
hension. He graduated from Slaughter
House Point, corner of Water street and
James slip, and every once in a while he
visits the Fourth Waid to look ot the
scenes of childhood. Mr. Dobbs has a
keen sense ol humor, and especially de
lights in fooling a policeman. His last
effort is something very clever. On this
occasion a close carriage, with an elegant
team of horses, and a liveried driver,
drove through Water street and stopped
opposite a liquor saloon. The driver
opened the door and a dapper little gen
tleman with a heavy mustache, attired in
the height of the fashion and wearing
kid gloves, stepped out and entered the
saloon, where he drank some brandy and
soda. An officer who was doing duty in
citizens clothes, saw the gentleman enter
the saloon, and when he nme out he
said:
"I beg youi pardon, sir, but I see that
you are a gentleman and a stranger, visit
ing Water street from curiosity. It is my
duty to warn you against entering these
places without a police escort, as you may
be robbed The gentleman smiled, and
shaking hands with the officer, replied:
"You have done your duty well, officer,
and in a gentlemanly manner. I am ex
ceedingly obliged to you, and will take
the first opportunity I have to call on
your Captain and recommend you for
promotion The gentleman then hand
ed the officer a fine cigar, bade him "good
evening," got into his carriage and was
driven away.
Quite a good story is told of Officei
Badger, of New Haven, Conn. It was
past midnight as he was leisurely push
ing his beat through Jessop street, and as
he came opposite to a jewelry store he
observed sleams ot light through the
chinks of the shutters, and he rapped on
the door. "Is that you, policeman?" ask
ed a voice within. "Yes," answered
Badger. "Well, it's only meit's all
light kind of chilly out, isn't it?" "Yes."
"Thought so. I was just fixing the fire
good night." "Good night," said Badger,
and pursued his way. An hour after
ward Badger passed through Jessop street
again, and again he saw the light in the
iewelry s'ore. It didn't look right, and
he banged at the door loudly.
"Halloo,'" cried the voice within. "Is
it you, policemam?" "Yes." "All right,
won't you, come in and warm yourself? It
won't hurt any thing for you to slip in
from your beat for a few minutes."
The door opened and Policeman Badger
entered and he found the inmate to be a
very gentlemanly looking individual in a
linen duster. "Come right up to the stove,
policeman. Excuse me for a moment.''
The man took the ash pan from the bot
tom ol the stove, and carried it down to
the cellar and emptied it, and when he
had returned] and wiped his hands he
said: "Chilly night, isn't it?" "Yes."
"Chilly outside and dull inside, Anoth
er smile.J New goods for the spring
trade, and have to keep our eyes open.
Lonesome work, this, watching at night,
but I manage to find a bit of comfort in
this. Won't you in me in a tip? You'U
find i the pure thing." And the man pro
duced a black bottle and a tumbler.
Policeman Badger partook, and having
wiped his lips and given his fingers an
other warming he ieft the store and re
sumed his beat, satisfied that all was right
at the jewelry store. But the morning
brought a new revelation. The store had
been robbed during the night of $6,0i
worth of watches and jewelry, and, al
though Policeman Badger carries in his
mind a complet daguerreotype of the
robber, the adroit rascal was never found.
The only true matches are made by
love, and when two people have really
lovedreally, from the depths of their
very heartsnothing can ever quite Dart
them again.Yonkers Gazette. How
beautiful! how ta rrue! how tendei! And
yet there are hearts that the world vain
has tried hearts that have beat as only
one heart can thump, hearts that the
same ice cream spoon, ss it were, has fed:
hearts that have parted forever, because
one of the twain didn't appreciate cold
mea .---Cammereial Advertiser.
Hyp *!#?*%&-
i he Poor Whites of tbe South.
To form any proper conception cf the
condition of the poor white 'rash, oae
should see them as they are. It is true
that the war. emancipation and the es
tablishment of free schools has helped
their condition somewhat, but they yet
retain many of those characteristics which
distinguished them in slavery times. The
poor white trash are about the only
paupers in the Southern States, and they
are very rarely supported by either the
state or community in which they reside.
They are found nowhere but in the coun
try, in hilly and mountainous regions gen
erally, in communities by themselves, and
far removed from the more refined settle
ments. Why it is they always select the
hilly and consequently unproductive dis
tricts lor their homes is unknown. In
the settlements wherein they chiefly
reside the poor whites rarely live mere
than a mile or two apart.
Each householder or head ot a family
builds himself a little hut of round logs
or pine poles, chinks the places between
these with clay mixed with wheaten
straw builds at one end a big wooden
chimney with a tapering top, all the in
terstices being "dobbed" as above puts
down a puncheon floor, and a loft of or
dinary boards overhead fills the inside
of the rude dwelling with a few rickety
chairs, a long bench, a dirty bed or two,
a spinning-wheel (the loom,if any, is out
side under a shed a skillet, an oven, a
frying-pan, a triangular cupboaid in one
corner and a rack over the door, on which
to hang old "Spitfire," the family rifle
and both the cabin and furniture are con
sidered as complete. The happy owner
then "clears" some five acres or so of
land immediately surrounding his
domicile, and these he pretends to culti
vate, planting only corn, pumpkins and
a little garden truck. He next builds a
rude kennel for his dog or dogs, a primi
tive-.ooking stall for his "nag," ditto for
Beck, his cow, and a pole hen-house for
his poultry. This last he covers over
with dirl and weeds, and erects on one
side of it a long slim pole, from the upper
branches of w'rich dangle gourds for* the
martins to builo their nests inmartins
being generally regarded as useful to
drive off all bloody-minne 1 hawks that
look with coo hungry an eye upon the
rising generation of dunghills.
Being thus prepared for housekeeping,
now comes the tug of war. Whatever
may be said of the poverty oi the white,
of his ignorance and general spiritual
degredation, he rarely suffers from hun
ger or cold. As a class, indeed, they are
much better off than the peasantry of Eu
rope, anu many a poor macbanic in your
cityto say nothing of the thousands
without trade or occupation, wandering
through ihe North and Westwould be
most happy at any time from December
to March to share the cheerful waimth
the blazing pine knots which glow upon
every poor -nan's hearth in the South as
well as to help devour the tat hauches of
the nobie old buck whose carcass han^s
suspended from one of the beams
of the loft overhead, ready at all
times to have a slice cut from its sinewy
bones and broiled to delicious juiciness
upon the glowing coals. Indeed, the
only source of trouble to the poor white
is the preservation of his yearly "craps"
ot corn, that, owing to ths sterileness ol
his land and deficient cultivation, some
times fail him, running all weeds and
grass.
But he has no lack of means. Wild
hog, deer, wild turkeys, squirrels, rac
COOLS, opossumsthese and many more
are at his very doors, and he has only to
pick up "old Spitfire,"' walk a few miles
out to the forest, and return home laden
with meat enough to last him a week.
Aud should he desire to purchase a little
wool for spinning, or cotton ditto, or a
little sweet'ning" to put in his coffee or
"sassefock" tea, or a few cups and saucers,
or powder and shot, salt, meal or other
household necessaries, a week's success
ful hunting invariably supplies him with
enough game to procure the withal for
luxuries, which he soon possesses himself
of tcom the nearest village or cross roads
store. Having obtained what he wants,
he hastens back to his barren solitudes
his wife and dauguters spin and weave
the wool or cotton into such description
of cloth as is most in vogue for the time
being, while the husband, father, sons
and brothers betake tbemselvrs to their
former idle habitshunting, beef-shoot
iag gander-pulling, marble-playing,
and getting drunk. Panics, financial
pressure and the like are unknown among
them, and about tne only crisis of which
they know aay thing is when a poor fel
low is called upon to "shuffle off this
mortal coil." Money, fact, is almost
an unknown commodity in their midst,
and whether our currency is goN, green
backs or the dollar of the "daddies" con
cerns them not. Nearly all of their
trafficking is carried on by barter alone.
In their currency a cow is considered
worth so much, a horse so much, a dog
so much, a fat buck so much, a fat tur
key so much, a coon-skin so much, etc.,
and by these values almost everything
else is rated. Dollars and dimes they
never bother their brains about.
The chief characteristic, the crowning
emblem of the poor white, however, is
laziness. He is the laziest two-legged
animal that walks erect on the face of the
earth. Even his motions are slow, and
his speech a sickening drawl, worse a
great deal than the downeastern of all
downeastcrs while his thoughts and
ideas creep along at a snail's pace. All
he seems to care for is to live from hand
to mouth, to get drunk, provide he can
do so without having to trudge too far
for his liquor to shoot for beef to at
tend gander-pulliags to vote at elec
tions to eat and sleep to lounge in the
sunshine of a bright summers day, and
bask in the warmth] of a roaring
wood-fire when summer days are over.
In religion, the poor white is generally
of the hard-shell persuasion, and his par
Hy il -J -J JJL .xrrziMrzryr
feon is of the "whang doodle" order. H^
is also very superstitious, being a firni
believer in witches and hobgoblins,
haunts and spooks in fortune-telling
after the ancient modessuch as palm
reading, card cutting, or the revelation
of cones-grounds left in the bottom of
the cup after the fluid has been drained
offG. W. Smalley in Philadelphia Times
"My theory, gentlemen, is that I rent
rooms on the third floor, and had no gar
den for the rain to fall on I"
Five men rose up in chorus, brushed
off their coat-tails, and followed each oth
er into the hall in Indian file. Detroit
Free Press.
In the Gardens of Kew.
A MEMORY OF 1S49.
How well I remember tne day that we went!
We sailed up the Thames in the Duchess of
Kent
And we both sat apart from the holiday crew
And we landed at last by the Gardens of Kew.
And I wore a poke bonnetthey give one th
blues,
When one looks at them now in an old Lon
don News
But you said I looked lovelyit mayn't have
been true
But I liked it, I know, in the Gardens of Kew.
And Love spread his glorious glamour around
As you told me you'd bees down to Fulham,
and found
A small house with a lawn and an exquisite
view
O, it sounded so sweet in the Gardens of Kew.
But I doubtedyou kissed me, and bade me
be sure
That "the gas was laid on and the water was
pure"
It was foolish perhaps but what could a girl
do?
I gave .you my heart in the Gardens of Kew.
I was only a governess, toiling till dark,
And you were an underpaid Government
cl^rk
But though friends said we'd multiplied sor
row by two,
The sum total was blissin the Gardens of
Kew.
How we loitered and dreamed through the
mid-summer day!
Was grass ever so green, were flowers ever so
gay?
And a sunset, seraphic as Paradise knew,
Streamed its sclendor that night on the
Gardens of Kew.
Then the mellow moon rippled the flood with
its gold,
And you put your coat round me for fear I
was cold.
Though the balmiest zephyrJuly ever blew
Sped us blissfully home from the Gardens of
Kew.
Three months after we took, a poor husband
and wife
Our joint ticket third class, for the journey of
life
We've had griefs, but the power of true love
pulled us through
The love that we sealed in the Gardens of
Kew.
And sometimes, though now we have wealth
and to spare,
With a hou- in Hyde Park, and a carriage
and pair,
As wetake our hebdomadal walk in the "Zoo,"
I oast a found thought to the Gardens of Kew.
Well, taking the years as they've flashed by
us fleet,
The sweet with the hitter, and bitter with
sweet,
I don't quite regret it, my darling, do you?
Our saunter that day the Gardens of Kew.
London World.
A Mystified Colonel.
This humorous story is from a French
paper: The colonel, a rigid martinet, is
sitting at the window of his room, when,
looking out, he see9 a captain crossing the
barrack yard towards the gate. Looking
at him closely, he is shocked to observe
thrt, the rules and regulations to the con
trary notwithstanding, the captain does
not cary a sword.
"Captain 1" he calls from the window
"Hi, captain step up to my room for a
moment, will you?"
The captain obeys promptly, borrows a
sword of the officer of the guard, the
guard-room b. ing at the end of the stairs,
and presents himself to the colonel in ir
reproachable tenue.
The colonel is somewhat surprised to
see the sword inifc place, and, naving to
invent some pretext for calling his subor
dinate back, says, with some confusion,
"I beg your parden, captain, but really
I've forgotten wh it it was I wanted to
speak to you about. However, it can't
have been anything very important it'll
keep. "Good morning."
The captain salutes, departs, returns
the sword to the owner and is making ofl
across the barrack-yard, when he again
comes within the range of the colonel's
vision.
The colonel rubs his eyes, stares, says
sofely to himself, "How in the deuce is
this? Blame it, be hasn't a sword to his
waist 'then calls aloud, "Captain! Ho,
captain! one mom nt, please."
The captain returns, borrows the sword
again, mounts the stairs and enters tne
colonel's presence. His commanding
officer stares at him intently be has a
sword, he sees it, he hears it clank.
"Captain," he stammers, growing very
hot, "it's deuced ridiculous, you know,
butha! ha! I'd just remembered what
I wanted to say to youand nowha!
ha!it's gone out of my head again.
Funny, isn't it? Ha! ha! ha! Losing
my memory. Never mind. I'll think of
it and write you. Good morning."
The captain salutes, departs, returns the
sword to the owner and makes for the
gate. As he crosses the barrack-yard,
the colonel calls his wife to bis side and
says, "See that officer out there?"
"Yes." "Has he got a sword on?"
The colonel's wife adjusts her eye-glass
upon him, scans him keenly and says,
"He hasn't a taste of a sword.
The colonel"That's just where yon
fool ourself! He ha*!"
A Vermont hotel keeper ha white
washed a big cliff in sight of his house,
that it may resemble a snow bank, and
cause curious people to ask questions.
^***T^^?n$g&^l>gp*pif
Ben Franklin's Influence.
"See here, old woman," Harry ob
served, with his eyes intently fixed on a
\Poor Will's Almanac of 1827.
Now, what is it?" said Mrs. Archi
bald, without removing her hand from.
the pie dough.
Why, that great and good ...an, Ben
jamen Franklin, who writ into this alma
nac afore you was born, says: Never
argue at home,'"
"Of course not. Anv fool might know
that."
But it's a good idea of him, not
withstanding."
No, 'taint. I knowed that much afore
your old Benjamen Franklin was ever
thought of."
"Then, why don't you try it on once
in a while?"
"Try what on?"
Not arguing at home,'
Who's arguing. I'd like to know."
Why. you are."
I ain't."
"You are."
"Iain't you are ain't 'yar ain't
'yar hain't-'yar-hain't-'yar-hain't."
"You, Martha, she screamed, "wherc's
that poker? What on the face of the
airth's the reason everything in the house
is out of the road when it can do the most
good?"
Henry made a break for the door, but
she saw the movement, and grabbing up
a piece of dough as big as a watermelon
she brought It down over his head and
gave it a twist a-ound his neck, as though
she was putting the finishing touches on
an apple dumpling, while Henry, blinded
by the involuntary mask, fled across the
front room only to fall out of the open
window, breaking the eggs he had for
breakfast across the sill, and dropping
through the open cellar door into the coal
pile, where the old woman held him at
bay with a soft pumpkin pie, while
Martha scrubbed the dough out of his
ears and the smut off his nose with the
stove brush she had been using up
stairs.
When Henry got out he confidentially
button-holed Oxtoby and remarked, with
a cautious look over his shoulder:
"I always thought Ben Franklin was &
fool, and now I'm convinced of it"
Easton (Pa.) Free Press.
How a Farmer was swindled.
treasure up a tree was seen in the
watches of the night by a peddler wha
was sleeping in a farm house in the Shen
andoah Valley, Va. He told his dreamt
to the famer the next morning, and on
three successive nights he had the same
vision. Then he prevailed upon on the
farmer to accompany him to the forest,
where he pointed out a large oak tree as
the one he had seen in his dream. It
was apparently sound at the butt,but about
twenty feet up a limb had been broken
up. The farmer did not feel like hum
oring what he supposed to be a supersti
tious whim, but the old fellow seemed to
have confidence in his vision, and offered
one half of the spoils if be would help
him to cut down the tree. When the
tree fell theie was a rattle of coin near
where the hm1
-fxfht-awp*
had been broktn off, and
a small hollow was found there. By a
little chopping a large cavity was foundd,
and within was a large mass of silver.
Both seemed wild with deliyht, and on,
counting up found that the pile amount
ed to $5,000. The peddier expressed his.
unwillingness to carry around so much
silver in his pocket and inquired where
he wouid be likely to get greenbacks for
his share. The farmer having consider
able money in his house, immediately
transferred to the peddler $2 500 in pap
er money and took charge of the entire
bulk of silver. The peddler diappeared,.
and when his partner attempted to pass
some of ihe silver, lo 1 it was counterfeit.
He was the victim of a gang of coiners.
Dicken's child Characters.
Much of Dicken's art in painting child
characters, generally lies in this ming
ling the threads of their fate with the
schemes of heartless and villainous peo
ple. Oliver Twist may be cited as an
other example, He too, is the helpless,
innocent chila, exciting one's sympathies,
because he is constantly subjected to*
heartless and cruel treatment. Mrs. Cor
ney, Bubble, Noah Claypole, Fagin, and'
Sykes are his tormenters,the black
shades which by contrast make him ap
pear good and virtuous. Like little Nell,
while he is made the sport of harsh cir
cumstances, he is himself passively, in
stinctly virtuous. Though the central,
figure of the story, he, too, is only
sketched in outline, while the characters
which darken his destiny are fully and
dramatically wrought out. In some of
his later works the novelist delineates
his children with greater fullness never
theless, in the main, they are all made to
impress oe less by the fullness-of their
portraiture than by what one perceives
of the creatures who threaten to make
their lives wretched. As in Turner's
Celebrated picture, the slave-ship occu
pies but a slight proportion of the canvas,,
which is mainly filled with the mad
waves of the sea, so the children of Dick
ens are small aerial figures floating amid
masses of black cloud painted in to give
brilliancy to their whiteness.
Al one of the Whitehall Sunday shcools
a teacher was instructing her class al out
the prophets. She finally put the ques
tiof, "Why don't we have the prophets,
now?" and asked the boy who could!
answer it to hold up his right hand. A
little hand of a six-year old boy quickly
went up. "Well, my little man, why is*
it we do not have prophets nowt" "Be-
cause, ma'am, my papa days the times are .v
so hard, and so many men have gone in
to selling goods, that profits are knocked*
higher'n Gilderoy's kite The lad was.
immediately presented with a gum-drop,
and told to go out and via.?.Whitehall
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