The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on September 24, 1890 · Page 9
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 9

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, September 24, 1890
Page 9
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THE REPUBLICAN. AfARn, ~ AUJONA. - . . j OWA FATHEK ANDjgdNT"" -The True Story of Ttfelr Estrange* meat and, fieunion. Last wintor» one night, whilst pursuing my way along one of the most ob- «onre streets in Boston, I was aroused from tho ^every hi which I was indulging, by hearing light footsteps close to my side. Turning quickly, I beheld a young girl, apparently not more than jtwelvo years old, following, as if she ' was anxious to speak to me; and when S observed, by the dim light of a neighboring street lamp, that she was poorly «lad, trembling, thir and palo, I asked Jher in a tone of kindness what she •wanted. "If you please, sir;" she replied, in a •voice which was almost choked by sobs, jyet which struck mo as peculiarly soft :and silver-toned— "if you please, sir, will you go back with me, just a little way, and see my father, who is very •sick?" "What ia the matter with your father?" I asked, afraid of being de- •ooivod. "Oh, sir, I don'tknow," she answered, In tho same tones as before. "But I iear he is going to die. . Bo, sir, be so igood as to go and see him!" The earnest manner of the broken hearted girl made me ashamed of having doubted her at first, and I resolved to comply with her request. I was in just tho mood for some adventure where thore was an opportunity of ac- -complishing an object of benevolence, and I willingly followed my timid, sorrowful little guide back to her homo. The girl led me into a small and .•somewhat dilapidated house, and invited me to ascend a small and narrow .staircase. At the head of the stairs 1 heard her groping about until her hand touched the latch of a door, which she •opened, asking me in a low voice to follow her into tho room. I did so, and found myself in a humble apartment, where scrupulous neat-ness seemed struggling against absolute want. The dim light of a flickering lamp which stood upon a small table near the door, revealed to me the ^ acanty furniture, which I found to consist of a few chairs, the table already mentioned, and, among other articles of minor importance, a bed in the most retired part of the room. "Come this way, sir, if you please," iflhe whispered; "here is father." As sne turned to approach the bedside of the sufferer, to apprise him of my presence, I silently brushed away a tear, which the sight of her grief-worn pallid cheeks, and eyes red with much weeping, caused to start through my •bye-lids. My youthful guide bent oarer the sick man, and laying her cheek close to bis, while her arm encircled his neck, whispered something in his oar. A moment ;af ter she arose, and placing a chair at the bedside, begged me to approach. Seating myself in the chair she placed .for me, I took the hand of the invalid, ind gazed for the first time full upon "his face, I shall never forgot the spectacle. Although much emaciated, his .features betrayed the spirit of pride in the midst of poverty, of resolution in .adversity, and of tho stern endurance, .-during his moments of agony, which •.dwelt within his breast I was about to address him, when he •out me short by speaking first. "You find me in a bad condition, sir," .-.said he, with a smile I thought rather bitter. "I can't deny that I am actually •crushed by aickness and misfortunes; this you will readily believe, for I could never have stooped to ask assistance of ;any one, had I not been perfectly helpless. And even now, sir, I doubt whether •I would not have died before asking a ..favor of any one, had it not been for the "broken-hoarted girl who conducted you lither." I can not describe my sensations on .hearing these words, so full of pride and •candor, fall from the lips of a man who might be dying. It was plain to be seen that the invalid had onoe seen better •days, and moved in circles of refinement, and I was sure that his intellect •was of the finest order. It was owing to these peculiar circumstances of the »caso that I became deeply interested in my new acquaintances, and felt anx- jious to relieve them, and, at the same •time, to learn something of their history. After conversing with the invalid •for a few moments, he intimated to me •that he would willingly let me into the -secrets of his history, provided the girl was not present to listen. Accordingly, I directed "little Het- 4y," as the old man called her, to go for ;a physician of my acquaintance, telling (her I would stay by her father until she [returned, The nig it was not cold, and I felt that it wot!d benefit her body, iand divert her mind, to take a walk in the city, with the ways of which she •was very well acquainted. Hetty had scarcely left the house when tthe door-bell rang. The siok man said •that the lownr part of the house was mot occupied, and requested me to see who was at the door. Carrying the lamp in my hand, I proceeded down tb< stairs. 1 found a well- dressed at the door, who ' Deemed surprised on seeing me in such «A place. "Does Mr. fftrtsy reside here?" be tasked"I don't km* that he does," I re- then, ?e more than one i'Oflly < you don*£ the fara" 'Wf Of was ao.t , J whethejr the or the "The Sftmtv" said tfce stranger) "he la the man I would see.'* Hoping he might bring relief to my flew acquaintances, I readily conducted him up the stairs and into the apartment I had left. On apptoaching the bedside, J found that Mr. Farley had fallen asleep during my absence from the room. "Let me sit here," said the stranger, quietly seating himself at the foot of the bed, and shading his brow, which I observed betrayed some emotion, "and do not tell the old man 1 am here. It is tho girl I would see, and'I will Wait here until she returns.*' Scarcely was the stranger seated, when, as 1 approached the bedside, the invalid awoke. "You must know," said ho, continuing the subject of his history in a manner which showed that his slumber had been light, "you must know that I have not always been in the condition of poverty yon see mo now in. I was once in excellent circumstances, and enjoyed a high standing in society." "Hovr did you become reduced?" I asked. "By a series of misfortunes, of which need not toll you. By degrees I lost, until I became quite fortuneless, quite friendless." 'Is the girl who brought me here your only child?" I inquired. "Ah! it is of that I would speak," sighed tho sick man, pressing my hand. "1 had another child—a son." "And is ho dead?" "No; but he is dead to me. I lost him through my pride, my worse than folly." "Where is ho now?" "Alas! 1 know not." "Ho has deserted you?" C "No; I drove him from my door. It was in my days of pride and affluence that I disowned him, and cast him off penniless." Tho old man pressed his feeble hands upon his brow, as if to still its throbbing, and closed his eyes with a suppressed groan. "I loved my son," he continued, after a pause. "I was proud of him, too; but even he could not change tho firmness of my will. It ia that which has estranged us!" "In what manner?" "Can you not guess? Had you known William, you would have discovered ere this. His generous soul, so unlike my own, was totally free from the f-am ily pride and prejudice to which I owe my ruin. He had no idea of the aris tocracy of wealth; and when he found among the laboring classes a maiden whom he thought might make him happy, he cared not for her humble condition, "out resolved to win her heart and hand." "And you opposed htm?" "Firmly, bitterly, blindly opposed him!" exclaimed the old man. "He was a major, and I could not enforce my commands, but I threatened, little thinking my threats were vain. I tolc him in a moment of calmness, that the hour which saw him united to the poor girl he was wooing saw him no longe my son. But his suul, like mine, was above compulsion, and, unlike mine, scorned the allurements of wealth. He believed that toil and poverty were honorable, and that worth was oftener found with them than with luxury anc riches. He trusted that he had found a priceless jewel in the person of the humble girl he loved, and ho boldly, un hesitatingly offered her his hand although he knew I would disinheri him." "And ho married her?" "Yos, and from that time I have never seen himl He provided a home for himself and wife in Boston, and wrote me a letter. In that he begged me to excuse—he did not say forgive— his acting against my wishes, but said not a word—not a syllable about being received once more as my son and heir. He ended by inviting mo to visit him in his new but humble abode, and expressing a desire that we might live on friendly terms. I was too proud to visit him, and he never saw fit to cross my threshold again." "And he continued to reside in Boston—in the same city with you, his father?" "Yes, for a time; but ho was poor, and could not bear, 1 presume, the sight of those of his old associates who ceased to know him, when he was no longer able to. live in style. Ho scorned them, it is true, but he hated tho sight of them, and therefore removed from the •city. 1 ' "And he never came to you or wrote to you afterwards?" said I. "Never! The last I heard of him he was in New York, and in tolerable circumstances. O! what a triumph it would be to him could he see me thus reduced, shorn of my pride and wealth! "You see I am now left alone in the unfriendly world with the child who brought you hither. As my riches failed me, being swept away by misfortunes, my old friends dropped off one by one; and now sickness has reduced me to tho helpless, miserable condition in which you behold me. There is not an individual living who cares for me or mine. You have already shown some kindness to us, for which Heaven reward you! But you are the only one, the only one!" The siok man turned his eyes upwards, then closed them with a sigh, At this moment I observed that the stranger, who at first seemed to take no interest in the old man's story, bad at length drawn his chair closer to the bed side, as if to listen. "My pride is humbled now," resumed the invalid, after a long pause. "I think 1 might be brought to ask relief of the very son I have disowned. Ob, God, how just has been my punishment! to think that he, whom least off, is now, in all probability, able to laugh at my fall in the midst of bis growing prosperity. But think you he would do it? Think you my William, who was onoe my joy and pride, would have the heart to triumph over me in my misery?" "No, he would notl" said a deep, earnest voice behind me, which made nje start- On looking around, I saw tfce sjraager hfd admitted approaching the b«4f jd-e, >• i|9 light fell upon, his broar,,* **»- "Who spoko? What voice was that?" Ismanded the invalid, turning on his pillow. I made way for the stranger, and ho Irew near the bed. He bent over tha orm of tho old man, and their eyos moc. "It was I that spoke," said tho itrangor, in hurried, husky tones, "ifc was my voice!" The old man stared at him wildly. "And* who are you?" he demanded. "Do you not know me?" murmured the other. "Oh, God! that it should lome to this, that I am forgotten by my atherP "William! my son William!" sobbed the invalid, "Oh, my injured—my noble and forgiving boy!" The old man's voice was choked by sobs', as with his feeble arms he drew ils son more .elosoly to his bosom. I turned away to dash aside the tears which came Unbidden to my eyes, dimming my sight, and when 1 looked again, near a minute after, I beheld tho father and son still looked in eaeh other's arms. As I contemplated that silent, heartfelt embrace, I felt my eyea 111 again with tears, and my bosom heave with sympathy. "O! my boy," murmured the invalid at length, "what good angel has brought you hither? I am no longer what I once was, but a humble, miserable wretch. Adversity has taught me a deep and holy lesson; and it is now with -joy, and not with pain, that I ask you to forgive me "Father, father!" intertupted the young man, in a voice of agooy, "speak not of the past! Let us forgive and forget! Both of us may have been at fault, but the days of our estrangement are passed now; we are father and son onca more." "God bless you, O my child!" murmured the old man, "God bless y«u!" I am come," resumed William, "to repay the debt of gratitude I owe you —" "The debt of gratitude?" "Yes, for what does not a son owe to his father, especially to such a father as you were once to me! My mother was taken away when I was young and Hetty but an infant, but you filled her place; you educated me; you did every thing in your power to make me happy. Now I am come to repay the debt aa freely. I have a dear and happy home in New York, to which I will remove you and Hetty as soon as you are able to leave your bed. Till then, I will see that you are made comfortable here. Oh, I thank Heaven for putting it in my heart to come back to Boston and search you out!" My situation during this interview was painful. It was a relief to hear footsteps ascending the stairs and to soe little Hetty enter the moment after. Seeing two strangers in the room with her father, she started back surprised, for she was far from recognizing her brother. The old man saw her and called her to his side. William uttered not a word, but stood regarding her in silence. "My child," said tho old man, "do you remember your brother William?" "Oh, yes," replied the girl, quickly. "I remember him—he was always so kind to me. Don't you wish be was here now, father?" "My child, he is here!" exclaimed the old man. "This is your brother William!" The girl turned, and when she saw her brother, regarding her tenderly and kindly, open his arms to receive her. she flew to his bosom, and flung her arms wildly about his nock. At this moment my friend, the physician Hetty had gone for, having followed her almost immediately, rang at the door, and I hastened to conduct him up the stairs. Ho gave the sick man encouragement of affording him immediate relief, and having prepared some medicines for his use, took his departure. Thinking it best to leave the now united family alone, I shortly after arose to depart. The old man and his son thanked me warmly for the interest I had taken in their affairs, and the little girl, as she conducted me to the door and bade me good-night, besought me with tears in her eyes to visit thorn again. That night I went home a better man than when I left a few hours before. The lesson I had learned had a peculiar effect upon my mind, teaching me, as it did, the folly of family pride, of tha pride of wealth, and the divino beauty and sweetness of forgiveness. When I visited the house again, I found a coach at the door, and being admitted by a servant, I met little Hetty in the hall dressed ready for 4 journey. The little creature flew to welcome me, and fairly wept with joy. "Where are you going?" I asked. "Oh!" said she, "father and I are going to New York with brother William. Father has got almost well, so that he can travel. We are going to live with brother, and we shall be so happy!" At this moment, William and his father came down-stairs, being ready for a start Although the old man was leaning on the arm of his son, when he saw me, he sprang forward to grasp my hand. William did the same, while Hetty stood by, laughing and weeping by turns, from joy. I saw them depart, and onoe more I retraced my steps homeward, ailed with admiration of the old man's proud, stern, but generous spirit, the candor, beauty, and single-heartedness of the child, but above all, of the young man's noble* ness of soul, of his true Christian ben* evolenoe and forgiveness.—J. T. Trow* bridge, in Yankee Blade. The Size of Human Head». The Popular Science Monthly reoent- ly made some interesting observations on the comparative size and fprm of tha beads of the members of different nationalities. For example, it says; Tha usual size for an adult Englishman is No. 7. Germans have round heads, Malays small ones. The heads of Portuguese aVerage from six inches and seven* eighjhs to seven inches; those of Spaniards are a little larger. The beads of Japanese excel the Etagliph average. Meu that hive much tpdo with harsea said td, have the surliest - - FAttMERS AND FREE TRADE. th* of Jninr«m»o f,, p ftrm values— floes Tariff Tax tho l<-nrmer?-»Vliat He Thronnrli Protection — The Fnrmur Other I.'tmla. A free trade writer tries to show that if tho Ryots of Hindostan and the Fellahin of Egypt, who gladly worked flf toeft hours per day at farming for five to ten cents, were allowed to compete without protection against American farmers in the home markets of tho latter, the said American farmers would be all tho better off. In other words, he claims that the American farmer would be better off without protection than with it. He says as follows: Tile figures wnluh I K ivo below will prove beyond a doubt that tha farmer nbovo all others should heartily Indorse tho Democratic party In Its off jrts to reform the tnrJff. The Increase In th ) value of our farina between 1850 and 180) was as folio wa : 1850 .................................. $8,271,575.421 I860 . ................................. 6,615.045.007 ler may ride through fifty miles of the most fertile soil, blessed by the flneat \ climate under the aun, without seefng an inhabitant or a cultivated field. Vast and fruitful tracts of country in Turlc- sh Armenia, the Troad—nay, tho very environs of the Hosphorus—tilled only wenty or thirty years ago with all the jare of garden husbandry, are to-day a howling wilderness, scattered here and .here with graves and ruins. On the borders of Armenia rises still with lofty walls and large stone houses a city peopled, it is said, within the memory of man with 60,000 souls; but it is a city of iho dead. The finest country in the vorld has been more wasted by peace and free trade] than other lands have )een wasted by war." CONGRESSIONAL CAMPAIGN. Total Increase tn 10 years $3,378,46'J,586 Average yearly Increase 337,»46,9>8 This was the free trade era the ten preceding years of a Democratic low tariff. Contrast those with the twenty years of high tariff. 1880 $ 6,045,045.007 1880 10,197,OJ6,77C Total Increase In 20 yours $ 8,552,051,78'J Average yearly Increase 177,6(2,688 The foregoing is to say the least ingenious if not ingenuous. For with the census tables before him ho very carefully omits tho figures thereon of the aggregate of farm values in 1870, which are quoted at $9,202,803,861, and a foot note referring to the figures of 1870 and 1880 evidently designed as a caveat to guard against exactly such erroneous misrepresentations as are advertised by free traders. That foot note we produce thus: "In all comparisons of value between 1870 and 1880 it should be borne in mind that in the former year gold was at an aver- ago premium of 25.3 per cent. With this hint from the Commissioner of the Census, we reduce the valuation of 1870 to gold by deducting 20 per cent, from the amount given above, and the comparison of 1800| and 1870 will stand thus: 1870, value of farms, gold $7,410,213,099 1869, value of farm <, gold. 6,645,045,007 Increase In these years under Protection $765.198,002 Which, considering the fearful ravages of war which devastated the country within that decade, sweeping the Southern half of our country of its fences, houses and other farm buildings, is a very triumphant evidence of the potency of protection. We submit that if at the end of that ten years the value of our farming property had been as great as the beginning thereof, we should have shown a recuperative power unparalleled in the history of nations, and we have to thank protection for it. When we came out of the revolutionary war and lived nearly , a decade under a free trade regime we got poorer ane poorer every day until we saved our social and National system by the Constitution and protective tariff. Let us now consider the ratio which the farm values of 1880 bore to those o 1870, which are shown by the census to have been thus: 1830, farm values, gold.'. $10,197,093771 1370, " " " 7,410,24:1,08. Increase $ 2,786 813,687 Considering the fact that in those ten years, as emphatically noted by the Com missioner of the Census, the country had changed its measure of value from paper to gold—a change considered b} many of our best thinkers more disas trous in a money sense than the devasta tion of war, the farmers are to be con gratulated that they not only sustained that vast depreciation of values, but in creased their holdings nearly three thousand million of dollars. The next remarkable mare's nest i as follows: "There Is an average yearly tax on each farmer, farm hand and dairy maid of $82.59 •which is paid upon the Imports for farm ers." The statistician assumes that" the farmer pays.all the duties which resul from imports of exactly the value of the amount of goods which he sells for for eign markets, or in other words pays an average export duty exactly corresponding with the import duty, or on an aver age of $88.59 per year for every "farmer farm hand and dairy maid" in the coun try. This is but another mode of stating the old free trade fallacy, that everi charge for import duty increases the prico of like articles whether importec or not. That fact is so moldy and musty, and has so of ten been shown to be baseless that it is very much like thrashing ou' old straw to tackle it again, and we wil only say here and now that if that is so tho farmers are the greatest gainers at, the protection on their products is so large, that if the duty is added to the normal free trade prices thereof, they are endowed more iavishly than anj other class of American producers. Ex-Governor, now Senator Brown, o Georgia, a large farmer when at home from his place in the Senate chamber March 14, 1888, made an exhaustive analysis of this matter, and proved conclusively, that if that theory is true, the farmers of this country received in augmentation of prices resulting from the tariff in 1887, 81,203,954,994, or $599.16 for every "farmer, farm hanc and dairy maid" in the United States. If the free trader wishes to see the practical workings of free trade hi should go to Turkey, where he can glu himself to satiety. Some two centuries ago, that then prosperous and powerfu empire bound herself to approximate free trade by treaty stipulations with Great Britain. By that treaty Turkey bound herself to charge no more than three per cent duty on imports, and to this time only a fraction over seven percent, is charged on imports from Great Britain. Similar concessions by the "favored nation clause" and otherwise have given like advantages to other nations. That adherence to free trade tolled the funeral bell fop the burial of all Turkey's greatness. Originally the garden of the world, the site of Eden, she was prominent is agriculture as in manufactures. A we ajg gre Adverting to farming es- will quote from the Lon- r, which not long ago. said: to Epoesus fte. PITH AND POINT. Slinll the Next CongregH Have a Majority of I' - ree Trader* or Protectionists? Congressional nominations are being made almost daily, and from the candidate's speech or letter of acceptance wo can gather the principles that are to be Fought for this fall. Of course the tariff question is foremost. In fact it seems to be the only issue. The ]fcmo- crafs are evident y tiring of "Tariff Reform" and have decided to call things by their right names, and all g-ivo utterance to about the same sentiments. Tho following quotation from the speech of M. D. Hartor, nominated by the Democrats of tho Fifteen Ohio district, may be taken as a tersely expressed specimen: I would abol'sh a very custom hiuso In the land. 1 would rather v< to for the establishment of mi inslltut'on to sprend Iho cancer or afield In which to propuxate (holera, or n school In which to teach vice and crime, rather than to vote for a protective tariff of any kind. These sentiments were uproariously applauded, showing that his views were heartily indorsed by all his would-be constituents. Tho Democrats are evidently following the lead of Henry George, who said in the Standard of April 30: Tho tariff question will be renewed at the polia at the coining full elections, and the duty rests upon us—the real free traders of America—to exercise wisdom and display activity In BBS sting to bring free traders forward as candidates, and In helping to elect them when they are nominated. Well this is what we want, a good square fight Let protectionists in every district in the United States nominate only candidates who declare themselves "uncompromisingly in favor of the American system of protection,"and who can bo relied upon to vote as they talk. The issue is plain and simple. Shall the Fifty-second Congress have a majority of free traders or protectionists? A Page of Free Trade Bookkeeping 1 . A certain class of idiots think that this country needs free trade, and, like all idiots, have theories. "Free trade would help the workingman," they say, "and make food and all necessary clothing so much cheaper that though wages should be reduced real comfort and happiness would be increased, all things being on a sound normal basis." If any real workingman has been influenced by such drivolings, it may instruct him to read this extract from the London Pall Mall Gazette: He and his brother postmen thought the minimum p:iy of 18s per week was too low, and that it was almost Impossible for men lo maintain themselves on such a Pin all wage." So saJ.,1 tho snokeman of the postmen's deputation to Mr. llaikes yesterday. How married men do manage to maintain themselves on that sum we learn from the pathetic letter which has found Its way Into print from a postman's wife: First there is rent, 4s. for one large room; six loaves at 4%d., 2s. 3d.; fresh meat for Sunday, 10d.; cuttings for Wednesday to make soup, 41; herbs for do., Id; meat Saturday, 6d; bacon during week, 4d; vegetables, Is.; 1 pound butter, Is.; flour, 5d; rice. U£d.; treacle, IWd.; tea, 9d.; cocoa, Sd.; milk, BVSd.; sugar, 4d.; two egijs, l^d.; cheese, ad.; jam, 4d.; condiments, Hid.• coals, % cwt. at is. 2d., lOVfed.: loose wood, 3d.; soap, soda, matches, hearthstone, black- lead, etc., 4i£d.; oil, 3d. Husband having so much walking ha wears two pairs of boots per year at 9s. per pair; repairs of same, 5s, lOd. (average SViid. per week); myself, two pairs at 69 ; boots for two children, 10s. per year; repairs, 8s. 10d-£l. 3s 10d., or 6^d. per week- Insurance of children. 2d.; solipol fe B for one, 2d.; Postmen's Auxiliary Benefit Society, 3d.; Postmen's Union subscription,3d.; weekly newspaper, Id Clothing for self and two children can not be reckoned at less than £2. 10s. per year, or Is. per week. Balance, Vad. This is how we have laid out our 18s., my husband keeping Is for himself out of which he buys his own private clothes, iuclucUng shirts and socks. He smokes a little sometimes, but liappl'yhe does not drink. When -he can afford It he goes to ihe baths, which costs him 8 J., as there Is no bath room where we live. So you see, though we are not extravagant we can not save for old age or even for a holiday, and to buy other articles needed In the house we must do without something mentioned above. It is probable that the average American workingman's wife, if it came to a pinch, would object to the "normal basis" which would make bookkeeping such a feature in her life and seven cents a week the family allowance for milk. This sample of free trade bookkeeping, of course, does not apply to the young Mugwump who moans because under an accursed tariff his spike-tail coat costs him twelve pounds more than in London,—N. Y. Evening Sun. Savings Here and ID Great Britain. The following table shows the accumulations in savings banks in some of our industrial States under a protective tariff, compared with those of Great Britain under free trade and a tariff for revenue only. Our people live better and save about eight times as much as the people of Great Britain: 6tatea. Massachusetts . . ('ounttctlouc New York New York and New England .. Great JJritHl'i 03 ^~~ U a « $ 817,000,001 102 QUO 000 &05 ODO 000 1,100,000.000 520.00'UIOO ff 1,783,000 6 *0 000 6 000 000 11.000,000 •18.0!) > 000 f s 100.00 18.65 —Vanderbilt's oheok for £700,OuQater* ling, for some time the largest ever drawn, has been overshadowed by a check for £1,250.000, drawn by the Indian & Peninsular Railroad company on the London and County bank, of London. The big check hag just passed through the o earing house, wliere aa object of •«-ltt A room in one of the railroad Station a of this city is this* notice: "Gontlft* men will please toot spit on the floor,* Gentlemen never do.— Boston Herald, —The dude does not look so muchlik* an ass, clad in his blazer, an he resem* bios a zebra. This is rather rough oft the zebra, too,— N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. —First Small Boy— "Been to the circus?' 1 Second Small Boy— "Yes." "Did yer get in under the canvas?" "Course I did. Did yer 'spose the show waa ia the open air?"— Yankee Blade. —Cautious Dame— "Are you sure thi» horse is suitable for a lady to drive?" Livery Man — "Yes'm. He's a very intelligent boss, mum, and won t let yott run him into any thing." — Good News. — "I think it's so stwange," said Chappie. "She's awfully fond of dogs, but she won't have any thing to do with me." "That does seem rather contradictory." put in Cynicua. — N. Y. Herald. — "If women ever become railroaders, I can recommend Bridget as a brake- woman," sighed Mrs. Snaggs, as shft gazed at the latest accumulation of broken crockery. — Pittsburgh Chroninle- Telegraph. — Tho information that property Is "just a stone's throw from the railroad station" is very frequently calculated to impress one with intense admiration for the man who throws the stone. — Washington Post —Mrs. Coldham— "It is painful to reflect how many things must suffer before a dinner for human beings is over." Thinly— "Yos, indeed; very sad." Mrs. Coldham — "There are the chicken, tho cattle, the fish, the oysters, the—'* Thinly— "Tho boarders." — Amazed Mother — "What does this mean, miss? The idea of allowing a young man to hug and kiss you that way!" Sweet Girl— "Oh, it's all right, ma. Mr. Nicefello gives me a penny a hug, and it's all to be applied towards raising the mortgage on our church."— N. Y. Weekly. — The Portland drummer who was enumerated with his entire family three times in Seattle and twice in Tacoma, but not at all in Portland, where he lives, is anxious to know where he is to vote next election and if he cart vote as many times in each city as he appears on their census returns. — West Shore. —"Clara," said the old man, 'that young follow can't have you. Ho smokes cigarettes, I know, for I smell them when he ia around." "Papa," said the dear girl, "ho never smokes them, but he owns a cigarette factory." "So? Then, my darling, he can marry you when he will. There's money ia the business." — Harper's Bazar. —She Had Not Expected It.— Alice— •'Oh, Maud, I'm so troubled!" Maud— "What about, dear?" "Why, I'v« been engaged to Tom Jinks for nearly threj weeks, and he hasn't given ma any chance to break it yet, and I'm afraid he isn't going to. What shall I do ? I really believe he thought I meant it J"— Lawrence American. ' What a Wobbler Is. It is interesting to learn from so accomplished an expert in equine peculiarities as a London omnibus driver of many years' standing that a "wobbler" is a horse which puts all its feet down at once while engaged in drawing a vehicle at the maximum rate of six miles an hour. How, while observing this attitude, the animal contrives to advance a single step may be comprehensible to persons possessing an ex» ceptionally intimate acquaintance with the habits and capacities of a -horse. For our own part we frankly confess that the method of progression thus indicated is new to us and that a wobbling steed is a freak of nature which we have not yet been fortunate enough to contemplate in the flesh. Yet the driver in question ought to know, for he has guided this particular simultaneous "wobbler" throughout an entire decade and can scarcely be mistaken in respect to its special gifts of pace and action. Alderman Cowan fined him five shillings and costs for "driving to the common danger of the public." Scientific observation, like virtue, is alas, too frequently its. own reward. — London Telegraph. Hannibal Hnuilln at EiRlity. "I dropped into the Tarratine Club at Bangor the other day," says a writer i» the Lewiston Journal, "and looked into the pretty little parlor where there were groups of gray-haired men at tables en-. joying afternoon whist and smoking- peacefully. It was raining like fury- out of doors, and tJie patter on the east windows was alluring. I sat down neat the window in the reading-room adjoin* ing the first parlor, and was doing littla or nothing, when I heard a voice from the next room saying: 'My trick, old boy. Got you that time. Didn't play that just exactly right, did you? Well, well, live and learn.' The voice sounded familiar, and stepping into the parlor I saw an old friend just slapping down A winning card in an alluring game of auction pitch, He Jopked up and s»id| 'How-dye-do,' It was Hannibal Hamlin, and be was piaying in good luck, An hour later I saw him walking home> in the rain without an umbrella." Hood Hood used to toll a story of a hypo* chondriac who was in the habit, two or three times* week, of beUeyJtng hini- self dying. Oa a certain occasion be was taken ijj with one of bis terrors while out riding in bis gig, and, ,b»'p» pening at the time to see ia the road ahead his family physician riding in his carriage in the same direction, h$ ap* plied the whip to bis horse to overtake the old doctor as won as he posslWy could. The doctor, however, seeing him com-ine, appHM *b* whip to hi* own horse, and as bp bad a nag that V|i considered a '«goer'* they b** » els** time of it for about three mile* tho hypochondriac, drivluf a finally cum* ajojpgside * J1 and exclaimed; W

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