The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on January 13, 1892 · Page 6
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 6

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, January 13, 1892
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By FERGUS W, HUME, turned, and looked at 'the girl In feotno surprise. "Yesl" Bbe answered, meeting hte look ftteadtly, though her face was very pale; "I tansfc be there. I shall go mad with anxiety unless I know how the trial goes on." "But think of the disagreeable amount of attention you will attract," urged tho lawyer. "No one will recognize mo," she 'said calmly; "1 am very plainly dressed, and I •will wear this veil;" and, drawing one from her pocket, slw went over to a small looking glass which was hanging on the wall and tied it on her f nee. Caltrtn looked in a perplexed manner at Mr. Prettlby. "I'm flfrnid you must consent," ho said. "Very well," replied tho other, almost sternly, while a look of annoyance passed over his fuco. "I will leave her in your charge." "And your "I'm not coming," answered Frettlby, putting on his hat. "I don't care about seeing a man whom I have had at my dinner table iu the prisoner's dock, much as I sympathize with him. Good day;" and with a curt nod he took his leave. When the door closed on her father, Madge placed her hand on CaltonVarm. "Any hope?" she whispered, looking at him through the black veil. "Tho merest chauce," answered Calton, putting his brief iuto his bag. "We have done everything in onr power to discover this girl, but without effect. If she does not come at the eleventh hour I'm afraid Brian Fitzgerald is a doomed man." Madge fell on her knees with a stifled cry. "Oh, God of mercy," she cried, raising her hands as if in prayer, "save him. Save my darling, and let him not dio for tho crime of another. Gud" She dropped her face in her hands and wept convulsively, as the lawyer touchedher lightly on tho shoulder. "Come!" ho said, kindly. "Bo tho brave girl you were, and wo may save him yet. The hour is darkest before tho dawn, you know." Madgo dried her tears and] followed tho lawyer to the cab, which was waiting for them at tho door. They drove quickly up ty the court, and Caltou put her in a quiet place, where she could see tho dock and yet be unobserved by the people in the body of the court. Just as ho was leaving her she touched his arm. "Tell hira," she whispered, in a trembling voice, "tell my darling I am here." Calton nodded and hurried away to put on his wig and gown, while Madge looked hurriedly round tho court from her point of vantage. It was crowded with fashionable Melbourne of both sexes, and they were all talking together iu subdued whispers. Tho popular character of the prisoner, his good looks and engagement to Madge Prettlby, together with tho extraordinary circuni- Etances of the case, bad raised public curiosity to the highest pitch, and, consequently, everybody who could possibly manage to gain admission was there. When the prisoner was brought in there was n great flutter among the ladies, and some of them even had the bad taste to produce opera glasses. Brian noticed this, and he flushed up to tho roots of his fair hair, for he felt his degradation acutely. Ho was an intensely proud man, and to bo placed in the criminal dock, with a lot of frivolous people, who had called themselves his friends, looking at him as though he wero a new actor or a wild animal, was galling in the estreme. lie was dressed in black, and looked pole and ,van, but all the ladies declared that he was as good looking as ever, and they were sure he was innocent. The jury was sworn in, and tho crown prosecutor arose to deliver his opening address. llo gave a rapid sketch of tho crime, which was merely a repetition of what had been published in the newspapers, and then proceeded to enumerate Che witnesses who could prove the prisoner guilty. He would call tho landlady of the deceased to show that ill (Mood existed between the prisoner and the murdered man, and that tho accused had •called on the deceased a week prior to the •committal of tlw crime and threatened his Jit'a (Tliera tv;is great excitement at this, and several indies decided, on tho spur of (the moment, that tho horrid man was ieuUtj. but tho majority of tho feuaalo (spectators still refused to believe in tho 'guilt of such n good looking young lello'.v.i He would c:u; a witness who could prove that U'hyte wo.-, drunl; on the night of jthe munli;r,and went along Russell street, in the direction of Collins street; Clio cabman lloyston could swL-nr to the fact that tho prisoner had hailed Che o:il>, and after going away for a short time returned and entered tho <•«!> with the deceased. lie would also prove Unit the prisoner loft the cub at tin- gitimm.-!)- si-bool in the St. K i Ida road, and on the ;:rriv!i| of tht» rab at the junction he discoveivil tho deceased hr.il been mur dercd The- cabman Hiinkin would prove that he drove tho prisoner 1'rom the St. Hilda road to 1'iwlett street in East llelbourni), where he got out, and (he would <-;ill tho prisoner's landlady to prove Ui;;t thu prisoner resided in 1'owlett street, and that on the night of tho murder he bad iu>t reufhod homo till shortly after i! o'clock. fie would also call tho detective who had charge of thocaso, to prove tho finding of u glove belonging to tho deceased in the pO','l:et of the coat which the prisoner wore on the night of the murder; and the doctor who had examined the body of the deceased would give evidence that tho death was caused by inhalation of chloroform. Ac lie had now fully shown tho chain of evidence which he proposed to prove, ho would call the first witness, Malcolm lloyston. Eoyston, on U;>u- sworn, gave tho samo evidence as he hud given at tho inquest, from the time that tho c-ab was hailed up to his arrival at tho St. Kilda police station \yith the dead body of Whyte. In the cross examination. .Calton asked him if ho was prepared to swear that the man who hailed tho •cab, and the man who got in with tho deceased, wero one and the same person. Witness— 1 am. Calton — You are quits certain? Witness— Yes; quite certain. Calton — Do you then recognize the prisoner as the man who hailed the cab? Witness (hesitatingly)— 1 cannot swear to that. The gentleman who hailed the cab had his h:;t pulled down over his eyes, so that I fon.M not seehiaface; but the height and general appearance of the prisoner are tho same. Culton— Then it is only because the man who got into the cab was dressed like the pri.soK'-i'on that night that you thought they were ii'.itb the same* Witness— It never struck me for a minute ttwB they were not the same; besides, he spoke as U' be had been there before. I said— "Ob, you've come back," and he said— ".Yes; I'm going to t»ke him home," and got Into my cab. Oaltoa— P14 yaw notJos any different in $1*9 second time hd dams back, very , Calton—Yotl were sober, 1 suppose! Witness (Indignantly)-Vesf q«itBis0befc . Calton—Ah! You did not have a drink, eay at) the Oriental hotel, which, 1 believe, is near the rank where your cab stands f Witness (hesitating)—Well, 1 might have had a glass. Calton—So yott might; you might have had several. Witness (sulkily)—Well, there's no law against a cove feeling thirsty. Calton—Certainly not; and I suppose you took advantage of the absence of such a law. Witness (defiantly)—Yes, I did. • Calton—And you were elevated? Witness—Yes, on my cab. [Laughter.] Calton (severely)—You are here to give evidence, sir, not to make jokes, however clover they may bo. Wero yon or were you not slightly the worse for drink? Witness—I might have been. Calton—So you were in such a condition that you did not observe very closely tho man who hailed you? Witness—No, I didn't; there was no reason why I should; I didn't know a murder was going to be committed. Calton—And it never struck you it might bo a different man? Witness—No, I thought it was the same man the whole time. This closed Royston's evidence, and Calton sat down very dissatisfied at not being able to elicit anything more definite from him. One thing appeared clear, that some one must have dressed himself to resemble Brian, and spoke in n low voice because he was afraid of betraying himself. Clement Rankin, tho next witness, deposed to having picked up the prisoner on the St. JOlda road, between 1 and 3 on Friday morning, and driven him to Powlott street, East Melbourne. In tho cross-examination Calton elicited one point in the prisoner's favor. Calton—Is the prisoner tho same gentleman you drove to Powlett street? Witness (confidently)—Oh, yes. Calton—How do you know? Did you see his face? f Witness—No, his hat was pulled down over his eyes, and I could only see the ends of his mustache and his chin, but ho carried himself the same as the prisoner, and his mus- tacho is tho say/io light color. Calton—When yon drove up to him on tho St. Kilchi road, where was he and what was he doing? Witness—Ho was near tho grammar school, walking quickly in the direction of Melbourne, and was smoking a cigarette. Calton—Had he gloves on? Witness—Yes, ono on the loft hand, tho other was bare. Calton—Did he wear any rings on the right hand? Witness—Yes, a large diamond ono on the forefinger. Calton—Are you sure? Witness—Yes, because I thought it a curious place for a gentleman to wear a ring, and when ho was paying me my fore I saw tho diamond glitter on his finger in the moonlight. Calton—That will do. The counsel for the defense was pleased with this bit of evidence, as Fitzgerald detested rings and never wore any; so ho made a note of tho matter on his brief. Mrs. Hablcton, the landlady of the deceased, was then called, and deposed that Oliver Whyte had lived with her for nearly two months. He seemed a quiet enough young man, but often came home drunk. Tho only friend she knew he had was a Mr. Morolaud, who was often with him. On the 14th of July, tho prisoner called to seo Mr. Whyte, and they had a quarrel. She heard Whyte say, "Sho is mine, and you can't do anything with her," and tho prisoner answered, "I can kill you, and if you marry her 1 will do so in tho open street." Sho had no idea at tho time of tho name of the lady they wero talking about. There was a great sensation in the court at these words, and half the people present looked upon such evidence as being sufficient in itself to prove tho guilt of the prisoner. In cross-esaminatioa Calton was unable to shake tho evidence of the witness, as she merely reiterated the samo statements over and over again. The nc^t witness was Mrs. Sampson, who crackled into tho witness bos, dissolved in tears, and gave her answers in a piercingly shrill tone, of anguish. She stated that the prisoww wua in tho habit of coming home early, but on tho night of the murder had come in shortly before U o'clock. Crown Prosecutor (referring to his brief)— Yon mean after i \Vitness-—'Avin' made a mistake once by saying live minutes after 3 to the policeman as called himself a Insurance agent, which 'e put tho words into my mouth, 1 ain't (v-goiji 1 to do .-so again, it beiu' live minutes afore 2, us 1 can swear to. Crown Prosecutor—You aro sure your clock W;IP rj;F|U? Witness—It 'adn't been, but my uevvy beiu' u watchmaker Cciiled unbeknown to mo and mado it right on Thursday night, which it was Friday mornin' when Mr. Fitzgerald came 'ome. Mrs. Sampson bravely stuck to this statement, and ultimately left the witness box iu triumph, the rest of her evidence being comparatively unimportant as compared with this point of time. Tho witness Rankin, who drove tho prisoner to Powlett street (as sworn to by him), was recalled and gave evidence that it was a o'clock when the prisoner got down from his cab in Powlett street. Crown Prosecutor—How do you know that? Witness—Because I heard tho postoffics clock strike. Crown Prosecutor—Could you hear it at East Melbourne? Witness—It was a very still night, and I heard the chimes and then the hour strike quite plainly. This conflicting evidence as to time was a strong point in Brian's favor. If, as the landlady stated, on tho authority of the kitchen clock, which had been put right on the day previous to the murder, Fitzgerald had come into the house at five minutes to 2, he could not possibly be the man who had' alighted from Rankin's cab at 2 o'clock at Powlett street. The next witness was Dr. Chinston, who swore to the death of the deceased by means of chloroform administered in a large quantity, and he was followed by Mr. Gorby, who deposed as to the finding of the glove belonging to the deceased in the pocket of the prisoner's coat. Roger Moreland, an intimate friend of the deceased, was next called. He stated that he had known the deceased in London, and had naot him in Melbourne. He was with him u great deaL Ou tho night of the murder he was in the Oriental hotel in Bourke street. Whyte came in, and was greatly excited. He was in evening dress, aud wore a light coat. They had several drinks together, and then went up to a hotel in Russell street, and bad some more drinks there. Both witness and deceased were intoxicated. Whyte took off his light coat, saying he felt warm, and went out shortly alwrwards, leaving witness asleep iu the bar, J3$ was ((.woke by the bjM! man, who wanted him to leave toe hotel. 'He saw thjtf Whyte had left bis coat behind him, and &0fe it up with fita Intention pj glvtng 1* to him. As he stood in tnS street *Mae «,«e snatched the coat from him, ftftd ftsM* riff 'with It., tje tried to follow the thief but he eoulrt not do so, being tho intoxicated*. He then went hohio and to bed, as he had to teavS early for the country to ths ttoralnc In cTossMSxairtihation! Calton—When you went ttito the street aftei' leaving the hotel, did you see the de-' ceased? Witness—No, I did not; but I was very drunk, and unless deceased had spoken to me, would not have noticed him, Calton—What was the deceased excited about when you met him? Witness—1 don't know. He did not say. Calton—What wore you talking about? Witness—All sorts of things; London principally. Calton—Did the deceased mention anything about papers? Witness (Surprised)—No, he did not. Calton—Aro you sure? Witness—Quite sure. Calton—What time did you get homo? Witness—I don't know. 1 was too drunk to remember. This closed the case for the crown, and as it was now late, the court was adjourned till tho next day. The court was soon emptied of the busy, chattering crowd, and Calton, on looking over his notes, found that the result of the first day's trial was two points in favor of Fitzgerald. First, the discrepancy of time in the evidence of Rankin and tho landlady, Mrs. Sampson. Second, the evidence of the cabman, Royston, as to the wearing of a ring on the forefinger of the right hand by the man who murdered Whyto, whereas the prisoner never wore rings. These were slender proofs of innocence to put against the overwhelming moss of evidence in favor of the prisoner's guilt. The opinions of all were pretty well divided, some being in favor and others against, when suddenly an event happened which surprised everyone. All over Melbourne extras were posted and tho news passed from lip to lip like wildfire: "Return of the missing witness Sal Rawlins!" CHAPTER XVIIL SAL RAWLTK3 TELLS ALL SHE KXOW3. And, indeed, such was tho casa Sal Rawlins liad made her appearance at the eleventh hour, to the heartfelt thankfulness of Calton, who saw in her. an angel from heaven, sent to save the lifo of an innocent man. Lawyer Calton and Kilsip went to the humble abode of Mrs. Rawlins, familiarly known as Mother Guttersnipa When they entered the squalid, dingy passage that led to Mother Guttersnipe's abode, they saw a faint light streaming down the stair. As they climbed up the shaky stair, they could hear the rancorous voice of the old hag pouring forth alternate blessings and curses on her prodigal offspring, and the low tones of a girl's voice in reply. On entering the room Calton saw that the sick woman who had been lying in the corner on the occasion of his last visit was gone. Mother Guttersnipa was seated in frout of the deal table, with a broken cup u.ud her favorite bottle of spirits before her. She was evidently going to have a night of it, in order to celebrate Sal's return, and had commenced early, so as to lose no time. Sal herself was seated on a brokeu chair, and leaned wearily against the wall She stood up as Calton and the detective entered, and thoy saw she was a tall, slender woman of about 25. not bad looking, but with a pallid and haggard faca She was dressed in a kind of tawdry blue dress, much soiled aud torn, aud had an old tartan shawl over her shoulders, which she drew tightly across her breast as the strangers entered. Her grandmother, who looked more weird and grotesquely horrible than ever, saluted Cultoii and tho detective on their entrance with a shrill yell and a volley of choice ^language. Kilsip paid no attention to her, but turned to tho girl. "This is the gentleman who wants to speak to you," he said gently, making the girl sit on the chair again, for indeud she looked too ill to stand. '-Just tell him what you told me." " 'Bout the 'Queeu,' sir?" said Sal, in a low, hoarse voice, fixing her wild eyes on Calton. •'If I'd only known as you was a-wantin 1 me I'd 'uve-cotno afore." "Where were you?" asked Calton, in a pitying tona "Noo South Wales," answered tho girl, with a shiver. "The cove ns I went \vitJi t 1 Sydney irft i-.m-ycs, left u.«? to dio like a dog in the gutter." "Blarst'mi/ 1 ' eroakt..! chi» olO woman iu a sympathetic manner, as sho nook u drink trom tho broken cup. "1 looked up with a Chinennnii,'* wont on iher gruudduuglaer, wearily, "un 1 lived with Mm for a bit—it's orfut, ain't it?" she said, with a dreary laugh, as .she saw the disgust on the la wyer's face. "But Chinermen ain't liad. they treat n pore girl u dashed sight letter nor n white covt does. They don't (mat thp life out ef 'em with their lists, nor drag 'em about the floor by the 'air." "Cuss 'em;" croaked Mother Guttersnipe, drowsily, "I'll tear their 'earts out." "1 think 1 must have gone mad, 1 must, 1 ' said Sal, pushing her tangled hair off her forehead, "for after 1 left the Chiner cove, 1 went on walkin'anc( walkin' right into the bush, a-tryiri' to cool ray 'eaii, for it felt on Jlre like. 1 went into a river an' got wet. an' then 1 took my 'at and boots orf an' lay dowu on the grass; an' then the ruin corned on, an 1 1 walked to a 'ouse as was near, where they looked me iu. Oh, sich kind people," she sobbed, stretching out uor hands, "that didn't badger trie 'bout my soul, but gave me good food to out. I gave 'em a wrong name. I was so fraid of that Army a-flqdin 1 me. Then 1 got ill, an 1 knovv'd uothia' for weeks. They suid 1 was off tny chump. An' then t came back 'ere to sea gran'." "Cuss ye," said the old woman, but in sucti a tender tone that it sounded like a blessing; then, rather ashamed of the momentary emotion, she hastily wound up, "Go to'elL" "And did the people who took you in never tell you anything about the murder*" asked Caltou. Sal shook her hoad. "Mo; it were a long way in the country, and they never knovv'd any thin', they didn't" "\\ "Ah I that«sp}<*iflS it," muttered £eJV>n *o !*^» w -*^^flpri$4jf> iiMM** w ~~~ STB IN WASSIKGTON, HE MAKES THE ACQUAINTANOE OF A PORTER WHO HAS MONEY, A Vlttlt to the Sennto Wing at the Capitol— A 11 Authoritative Account of the Aooldent that nefell the Humotlgt In IGopyriuht, 1802, by Edgar W. Nye.) i WASHINGTON, January, We have just formed the acquaintance of a colored porter, who was kind enough to tell me his personal history. It seems that he has been engaged in his present business and associated with Sir George Pullman for fifteen years. He has made probably no more money than other porters, but he has been more judicious and economical in his use of it. Tho result is that he owns a building site in Washington valued at $5,000, and will build this season a house worth f8, 000. All this he has made by sweep- THK PORTER. ing the aisle of the car and then dusting off each passenger at twenty-five cents per pop. He would be well fitted, and is thoroughly qualified, to act as conductor, and, in fact, has educated a score of new conductors, but his color is agin him. He told me that in the north he could act as conductor if the company saw fit to appoint him, but in the south he would be unable to enforce his authority. I have just been visiting the Capitol, and especially the senate, but did not remain long, owing to the fact that last summer during the heated term a large and prosperous cat crawled through one of the valves of the heating apparatus of the senate, and strolling abovit through the catacombs of hot air pipes, at that time idle and cool, became bewildered and at last sank down helpless with a low cry. "Shall i perish here alone?' 1 she exclaimed as she sat down on a cold register. "Will no one help me?" But echo alone replied. People who visited the senate chamber late in the stammer thought they heard a wail of disti'ess on several occasions, but were told that it was doubtless the convulsive death struggles of some bill that had not been killed so dead as was supposed. On opening the senate chamber, however, this session a new odor seemed to have established itself in that locality. Some thought that it came from the dead letter office, but this was found to be a mistake, and only recently has it been thoroughly settled that it is the cat, who strolled into the works of the heating apparatus while they ! Were cool. We should learn from this that while we may go on through life enjoying ourselves, gayly entering into the pleasures of the moment, sitting coolly and calmly upon the frigid register of the present, some day the great janitor of the world's heating apparatus will close our resistor ami turn on the heat. We will cry out. but cry in vain, "Oh, once more give me d chance to choose a more congenial climate!" Washington is the city of which we. as Americans, it' we will lay aside all personal prejudices, are naturally most proud. 1C we will lose sight of our little local boomer for a moment, we will discover that no city in the United States can approach Washington when we consider it aa a city of homes. Much has been said already by able writers and better pennwn than 1 regarding the beautiful .streets of Washington, but no one can so thoroughly enjoy them as the man whose head is still one grand aggregation of noises peculiar to Broadway, a congress of deadly vibrations and metropolitan racket. Coming, us I did. in early life from the dirt roads and rural quiet of Moosehead lake, it is not surprising that tho city ol' New York proved to be several sizes larger than 1 had been accustomed to, and the varied style of noises peculiar to the priiKtipal business sti-eets interfered with my contemplative moods, and once or twice BO confused me that 1 did not get home until a late hour at night. Here 1 find nothing to interfere with thought, of which 1 am very fond, or improving conversation, of which 1 am also passionately fond. Here one may hire a conveyance for two bob, as wu say in England, which will take him about over the city, meantime giving him also an opportunity to speak in low passionate tones to his companion without rapturing a blood vessel. 1 hope that the time will come when enough people will have seen the beauties of Washington streets so that in their return to their respective homes they will sow the seeds of discord and discontent and make things unpleasant in their neighborhood until they have similar (Streets. . Where I am sitting as 1 write these lines 1 can see one of the historical portions of the city, one that baa been recently so ably described by Mr. Croffut. It ia a little piece of ground which 4»r- jjjg the devolution belonged to the farm of David Burns. In 1790 it was as Lafayette park, it is. § *P#t wjJich have clustered and _.___„, . time* Lo6k, m ifist&ftee, at the uuw dfice la ttte dre& and behavior of ott? tcpresentatlvea abroad at present aa compared with those In the times of fhwiklin, Think how Mortifying, it ttttiat have t>een ttt a ybtittg republic just getting on its feet, with a aew job press tor printing its ttaweney and a mortgage thereon, represented abroad, not by a refined and well dressed man like Mr. Lowell or Mr. Lincoln, but temporarily, perhaps, by such a man as Franklin—a man with a deep and lasting contempt for the R. S. V. P. badness ; a man who would attend a german at the queen's place dressed in a little brief au* thority and a f awnskin vest, talking of the best time of the year in which to assassinate the hog and other matters for which her majesty did not then, and does not now, care a continental. Imagine, then, if you please, a man like Franklin at the royal table sweetening his consomme, talking of the rotation of crops and putting \Vorcester- shire sauce on his terrapin. Now we can do this sort of thing with impunity, because we are a great nation. But at that time, when our currency was printed on a Gordon press and our standing army had not had a new pair of boots for six months, the American minister attending a royal donkey party with his pantaloons tied down over the legs of his boots to keep the snow out and rabbit skin ear tabs sewed on his Mackinaw hat would naturally injure the social standing of our nation with foreign powers. , Here dwelt Sir Bulwer Lytton, who wrote his most celebrated poem, "Lucille," on this ground. Colonel John Hay lives across Sixteenth street, so also does Henry Adams, a grandson of John Quincy Adams. imagine, if you pleasd, the mighty contrast between the Washington of the present—full of elegance, refinement, difficult words, settled up with a nice class of people like Mr. Elaine—compare, 1 say, the Washington of today, where 1 sit, environed by everything that can environ one; compare,! say, such a city with the low, wet, snipe infested fiats where once the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the low, somewhat vulgar Indian, on whom there is nothing but a shell necklace and a jag. We live, indeed, in a rapidly growing age, an age of wonderful development. And this reminds me. though possibly the reader may not see exactly how, of a young man whom 1 met in the cars of the justly celebrated Richmond' aud Danville railroad yesterday. He said that the practical education of young people of both sexes was a subject which he thought ought to be looked into. Last winter he boarded at the same house with a bright young school mistress \vhose intelligence was out of all proportion to her extreme youth, for she had i-ead and claimed that she could explain, with the use of blocks, one of Mr. Browning's earlier poems. Noticing that the young man of whom I have spoken Avas wearing,at the time a pair of trousers around the heels of which a slight lambrequin seemed to be forming, she suggested, as they became better acquainted, that as she had been taught very thoroughly in all branches of needlework she would be most happy to repair the trousers at any time when his business was such that he would not actually need them. It is needless to say that with a beating heart he one night reached them through the sparsely opened floor of his apartments and left them in her hands, to deal with as she might see fit. I hesitate to go on with this account, but now that 1 have begun it I must not turn back. When he received the panties he found that they had been most Ingeniously mended where they needed it most, but while the trousers apparently had not suffered in any way, he found when he came to examine them that the repairs in the foyer had been made at the expense of the seating capacity. That is why he says he thinks that the practical education of women, he fears, is not always in practical hands. STEPPKU ODT, So many incorrect accounts of my re-* cent mishap in Mississippi have been printed that I venture to offer a brief statement of the ease at this time by means of a stenographer, i have always had the same difficulty in convino- ing the reading public that 1 needed sympathy. S#me years ago I became involved in a personal difficulty with a cyclone iu the .northwestern part of the state of Wisconsin. I had never said anything derogatory to the cyclone, but in fact had rather spoken of it, in a kindly spirit, atuj yet on that ocoasioa 4 was caught up into the heavens an4 rer turned with thanks, not because | we* lacking in merit, but merely because } seemed tobewwDJit^j f or columns, ol ---^ „ 0 — bones were about to day my edstly couoh, made to butternut) fell to the floor, leaving foot attached by meant of a pulley afi& Weight to the candelabra of the robin, Bat to return. At Yafcoo City,* Wnictt is in the state of Mississippi, 1 wad advertised to appear as a delineatot of tdy own character, and expensive printing 1 had been posted up all over the town* so that between twenty and thirty j>eo* pie, all of whom had secured tickets by allowing our lithographs to hang in their; windows, had gathered together in ther Palace rink, a luxurious opera house belonging to the kerosene oil circuit in the* shoestring district. The front of the house is on a level with the ground. The rear is not. It cost me $600 to find this out, but I found out. The owner of the rink took down the stairs by which an exit had been generally made from the rear of the house. He had not spoken to me about it, neither had he closed tho door so as to indicate that one should not go down that way. So I feel like the author of "Beautiful Snow." 1 alighted on the ruins of the stair steps that had been taken down, I do not know what the owner took the stairs down for. Possibly he ran out of kindling wood at home. However, my arm waa broken, and the old friendly feeling which was growing up between myself and the south is somewhat sprained and has a large poultice on it as 1 dictate these well rounded sentences. Economy. "Aw, me deah fellah, what is the mattah with your eye, that you should keep it shut?" "Me doctah says me eyes are failing very fast and that I must take great care of them, so I only use one of them at a time."—Life. Proved That He Ts a Genius. He seemed to be proud of himself as he strolled down the street, and when a Mend asked him the reason for hia elation he said: "I've got proof at last." "Proof of what?" asked his friend. "Proof that I'm a genius. I always thought 1 was, but never was abl& to demonstrate it before." The friend was inclined to be sarcas- tic, biit the young man persisted in his assertions. "I tell you that's right," he said. "Did you see that last poem of mine? It's the third I've had accepted by different magazines." "Oh, well, that's no proof of genius. Lots of people" "Not by itself, of course," interrupted the young man, "but it's a point, it's a point, although it didn't convince me any more than it has-you. But you know how careless I have always been." "Yes." "Throw things down anywhere." "Yes." "Scatter my clothes all over the room." "Yes. But you don't think that" "Not in itself, no; but it's a point. My wife picks them up, you know." "She does?" "Oh, yes. She used to grumble about it, but now she just says it's one of my eccentricities." "She—she picks up your clothes without any side remarks?" "Yes, and she never disturbs my desk. That 1 s why 1 say" "You're right. You have the proof^ You're a genius." "Thanks," he said gratefully. "In the line of handling your wife, anyway," added the friend.—Chicago- Tribune. Due Notice. A Yorkshire vicar once received tfee >J following notice regarding a marriage-.' from a parish house: ,"TwB is to give' you uotis that 1 and Miss Jemima Arabella Brearly is comin to your church, on Saturday afternoon nex, to undergo ' the operation of matrimony at you* -* hands. Please be promp, as the cab is >.' hired by the hour." The "operation" *' was performed in due course.-~N'e'w \ York Tribune. , The Difference. , I—Who was the lawyer _--,., Tr ._ you iu your recent case? Pukane—Jt wasn't a lawyer, "No?" "Up; it was a counselor at law. 1 ',, ''What's the difference?" ' ': "Well, Uncharged me $250 feu?, services. A lawyer would Jjav# fljL^ about $00. You can figure up the 41ffifes *nce yourself.'VPittsbarg '" Telegraph. 4 Mrs. Mr. Blink§*-,reYol?»? it f ron) qjgjgr his £&' Tool. ,» the wor}4 'forgot te mo I >H

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