The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on January 14, 1891 · Page 6
Get access to this page with a Free Trial

The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 6

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, January 14, 1891
Page 6
Start Free Trial

•Woman of the Present. ftoe frofhftn of the present jg a sweet, alluring , thing, AM qulto as sentimental n« the songs to-tiny tttifi is fond of bfiriufl and tlnticlnjr, and cnjoyft a ttiorry JIMP, •AM lior followers doolttro tlmtslio'e ncroaturo ttiOst divine. 4lie fromiiri of tho present la a paragon of ^ ., But tlio fellow wlio cnn win iicr love deserves liorfuvocfent mnllo. •lie's a plH whoso fads and fnnclcs often talto lift by mifpHM). i at, licnrt. sliomny bohomst and con- wise, *ho woman of llio present lias ft thousand clmrmlnfr wuvc, And despite of Cushion's liobdlcB Is a subject k tncol foi 1 pi'iilse. Dospllfl llio Imperfections thataro common to t us lioro, Ifslio (loos her duty nobly, Blio'll bo noted In lief sphere. tttio woman of tho present loves to mlhglo In n crowd, But tho choicest specimens you tncct aro liellher Viiln nor loud. You'll find her at tho tennis court, and often book In hand, And when you wiillc or drlvo wltli her you're In onclmntcd land. !Wio woman o? the present Is Inclined to flirt, I I'D snld- We 11 lot that, question go and ask If elio can malic good bread; AndfuH.hor ask If she can mnko good cake and npplc plo That would one s ni'potllouppoaso and cause tbom not to die, Tho woman of tho present, ns wo leave her to liar fa to, wo liopo some dny sho'H win tbo lovo of a couvcnlal mate; And wlnitwo cannot understand or fully com_ prclicnd, wo trust she'll overlook nml still consider us hoi' friend. _ — JToKoa 0/iffo Shli'loy, THE EMIGRANT GIRL. Down through tlio skylight of tho groat emigrant ollleo tho sun bent like a gigantic burning-glass, tlio blue flios buxzi'd noisily in tho window frames, and Honora Hough sat uneasily on her hard wooden bench, hor heart throbbing restlessly at every sound. "Is that 12 o'clock striking?" sho ventured to ask at last of u good- natured ollicial who was writing at n tall desk close by. "That's 12 o'clock," he said, carefully blotting page 91 before ho turned to page 02. "And no one has come for me votP" "No one Jm.s come for you yet. 1 ' And the oflk-ial commenced on a new page with u fresh dip of the pen. Houora's heart boat faster than ever; 8 sort of mist seemed to gather over her blue eyes. Did sho fall asleep, or wns it only a sort of waking swoon from which she aroused to hear some one' saying close to her; "Ever since this time yesterday, aud not a soul has inquired for her. I think it's more than likely she'd bo glad of a decent place. Wouldn't you, young woman?" "1 want some ono right away," said a spare, hard-featured,"elderly woman, with a basket ou her arm and a crimp cup under hor bonnet. "My daughter is very sick, and I can't got along no longer without help. The wages ain't high, but it's a good homo for auy yoiing woman; that I'll guarantee." Honora drew a long breath, glanced once more wistfully at tho window, aud then decided. "I'll go," said sue. 1 Perhaps it was as well that she arrived at that conclusion. Tho sickness incident to the sea-voyage and the long waiting for tho "friends" who had no! come had pretty well undermined hor nervous system, and she was at least enured tho shock of the "lire," which, although not serious—merely u spark "ifrom the still siftolderiug cigar of a gwnllomun visito- falling in a scrap- butikut full of torn envelopes and •papers—was snllieiont to give all the .employes a good fright, aud to erase from t|ie emigrant bureau world all 'truce of poor little Honora Hough's (•whereabouts us penciled down on ono '•of the slips of paper that wore destroyed. Sho went homo with Mrs. Caroy, Jielpud nurse poor little Sarah Carey '•on her weary journey out of the world, took filial caro of the old lady herself In the days when rheumatism racked her every bone aud joint, and finally married Ben himself—Mrs. Carey's sou and Sarah's brother—who, alas i'or the reign of romance! was a dealer in rugs ami bottles, and daily drove a Wirt clamorous with bolls and drawn Iby n subdued old gray horse about tlio .Wools. "I always thought," confessed Honora, "that I should marry a cattle king win 1 ') 1 eame to this country, or a rich gold-digger, or sound hing of that Jvind. I'uoplo get, tilings iwisted all • sorts of ways iu the old country. But I am sure lieu is nicer than any cattle "If J was a gold-digger, though," shrewdly observed Ben,""l might have given you a bigger house than this little one-storied 'shunty, and something besides calico to wear." "I don't want anything but you, Bon!" said Houora, her pretty, quaint brogue .accentuated, as it always was, by strong emotion. "Aud no millionairo of the lot could lovo you boiler than 1 do, Nora," said tho young man, simply. It was till vury well, this lovo-in-a- ootlugo business, while they were woll and trade held its own. But even in the rug-und-bntllo prnfes-sion there is competition—and tlio horse fell lame, and Bon Carey lay ill for weeks with a jow type of fever". Thou it was that, what with nursing Bon all day, ami walking the lloor with the te'elbiug baby at night, and trying to edge iu a Jittlo clear-starehiug aud lino needlework for a neighboring ladies' furnishing store between whiles, so that tho etore of money in thu cracked teapot on tho drossor-sholf need not run quite dry, Honora grow gaunt and palo, and her eyes got bigger anil bluer day bv day. Yet all this was forgotten in the delight of the first day whou Bon start ml put again with the wagon and Old Wbiioy and tho string of olamor- pus bolls, and Honoru hold tho baby up to Ibo window lo luugh and clap his tiny hands with glee. "Hold ou there!" said u hard-fout- Hred man, with a dog's-eared .moiuo- ramluin book under his arm. "Not so fast, Mr. Carey, if you please. Them lust installments on the 'orso wasn't paid, and I've orders to clap down on him- Our folks has u call for just j«ch a 'owe," JJeu turned pale. , To lose 014 Whitey—tliaj. would, iudcod, be thu .',..1, . . : ;.t'i.j«/, ., .. jfc. cruelest stroke of fatei ••Can't you give a fellow a little MrrteP" said he. "I've been fiick, autl 1« "Oh, yes, that's wot they all sny," said the man. "We've give more tiirie a'rondy thail we can afford. Business is hnsinoss; iiinl if the Imtsk instnllniuiii.i isn't sqtiai-ed up by this day weijk ij • 'orso will be callod'for— that's all." Poor (.'.insyl Like most AmeHcan farmer's <nns. he had been brought lip to no piii'iicitlnr trade or profession, and all that day as he jariglcit liis bells ap one street and down another, lovingly (licking the Hies from Old VYiifioys neck with the whip, ho badgered his bruins to think what he could do to k(,cp II01 u>ni and the little one if the horse were taken n\vay. Nctvci'lhck'fis, ho canio cheerfully home lit the day's end. "J3()i;iinso I'm in a bad box, it ain't worth while to scold and fret, and make Nora and the boy miserable," reasoned Hun. "I got a good lot of old iron and household utensils to-dny, Norn," said lie. cheerfully, When she brought the baby out into the back yard to watch him uiijoad. "P'r'aps there might be something yon could use fii the kitchen. There's a good, sound spider somewhere, and a gridiron with ouly one wire cul, and " "Oh, Bun, an old-fasliioncd brass warming-pan!" interrupted Nora, with broathlcsH delight. "Old-faNlilonod? Welt. I should say sol" said lu-r husbnnd. "Look at the atrenks of verdigris on it, tind tho queer ilouriHliiis and (lie hitter 'M' all done in <|iicrlicuus and Ihiugniiijigs ou the top." "Ben," said Honora, stooping to examine it, "it's just such a one as I can remember at my grandmother's in the old country—only in those days it used to shine like gold, and had a"long turned handle with a siring to haii!j; it up by. Where did you got it, Bun?" "At an old house in 15th street, where they were overhauling and 'cleaning up. The butler sold me tho old things. Oh, I toll yon, Nora, it was a lino house! Eli?" What's the mutter, Puss?" For Nora had turned pule, and began to tremble. "Ben," said she, "dear Bon, don't laugh at mo; but when I look at this brass warming-pan the old hills and tho old house rise up buforn my eyes, and I can almost hear my mother's voice again. Let us go to this place, Bon. Let us see it' this but lor man don't know something of I ho people at homo. For J'm suro—quite sure— : Bon, that this is the vory shining pan, with the letter II for Hough, that used to hang on the walls at homo." "But it can't bo, Nora," said Ben. "Why can't it be, BenP" "Well, to plo&so you, my girl. I'll take yon there to-morrow, M said Ben. "Not that I think it'll bo any use. Look at this lot o' piotor books. I irot 'em cheap. I thought you could pick, out something for the boy before we turned 'em over for paper stock." "Who is that, JohuP Whoso voice is that I hearP" "I beg pardon, sir; I hope it ain't disturbed you," said the butler, apologetically. "It's a person iu the rag- and-boltlo business', sir, as I made bold to disposo of soino of the old household iitonsils. You was kind enough to tell me, sir—-" But hero Honora pushed herself valiantly forward, holding the brass implement like a golden shield before "And it I hadn't been in business," flaid haaai't Ben, "in? ^Ife here, never would bavo come info her fortune.' -Fireside Companion. MAMATIC PECULIAR BRANCH OF NEWSPAPER SERVICE IN VOGUE IN NEW YORK. Jfut a Crltlo bat a Oog<tlp Gntttnror—Col, Ataplnftnn lift n PITS* A$ent—Ah Annul/iff Story of Edwin Booth. A few days ago ona of our pers contained an account of how two yoiing men went to eighteen theaters in one evening and saw something of the play at each one. If tln'se young men had been in the newspaper business they would scarcely have thought of their performance as'a font to boTist of, for tho same thing is done every evening by tlio representative of each of our largo newspapers, and the reporter who makes the round of tho theaters not only looks in at the house, but often interviews the manager and sometimes one or two of the players. The critics, both musical and dramatic, have nothing to do with the news of the amusement world. If an actor fulls.dead ou the stage, the critic may mention tho fact, but it is the duty of the dramatic reporter, if the accident happens in a theater, or tlio musical reporter, if it is iu opera house or a concert hall, to lind out all about it and treat it accordingly. I believe that Mr. Loandor Richardson^ now the editor of ono of our dramatic journals, was original^'responsible for extending tlio liofd of dramatic journalism so that it might take iu everything, from tlio-details of the star's private life, down to the color of tho chorus girls' stockings. Richard- sou was employed as a reporter on the Times, when, ton or fifteen years ago, ho began to make daily nolcs of wiTat this or that actor or .actress had told him. Ho was acquainted with many pro fuss ion n I people who wore only too glad to see (heir names in print, itieh- ardson did his work so well that the place of theatrical reporter was created for him on the Times, and for several years his duties consisted iu visiting as many theaters as lie could evory evening, and following up every bit of gos- Hie ra» result that : the cist of the piaf *4 on 6 ?**S dead Wall headed by fiAMLfiT - * Simple Edwin Booth, A good old lad.v frohi the S&Untry who had read much about Booth, but who had never been to a theater, was waiting for a stage at the cornet of Broad (vity aud Fulton street one day with her son, a well-known editor, when a''sandwich" man passed bearing EDWlfc iJOOf II A3 HAMLET on his back. The old lady. Who had never seen one of these gentry before, opened her eyes in astonishment lie was a particularly grotesque specimen of his race— a fat, red, blear-eyed tramp, smoking a villainous pii>e. "Dear me." said the old lady to her j son, "I never thought Mr. Booth was that sort of a looking mail, and I should think lie would be above carry* injr'l.hat sign. They say that these actors don't look won ott ino stage.aiia now I can believe it. — N. Y. Cor. Chicago Journal,. WIT MACPIES IN NEVADA. A Garrulous Specimen Xluit Gormlps with Rullroad rusupiiRrcrs — Hold Thieves. and put her Ho bout over "you aro so long. tho My her. for she had polished it brflli.uutlv until now it shouo aud glittered bravely. "It was this old-fashionml warming- pan," said she. "Pluuso, sir, I'm almost sure it used to hang on the home walls in County Cavau when I was a girl." "And who aro youP" asked tlio tall old man with the sparkling light-blue oyos and the duke of Wellington nose who stood towering in the doorway. •i am Mrs. Carey, sir. Born tlon- ora Hough IV simplybxplainod lh« girl. "Honora Hough, who canm over in the Merchant Prince, July 9. 18—, and who disappeared unaccountably, leaving no truce behind her?" said the old man. "Yos, sir, I came over in tho Merchant Princo. July 9, 18—," admitted Honora, with a little gasp. "And — and I think you must bo my Uncle Warren, for your eyes aro like my mother's, and when you spouk. to mo tny heart answers back to tho tone of your voice." She wont up to him hand confidingly iu his. and kissml her. "I bel'mvo," said he, girl wo have looked for diiar, I_buriod your aunt a month ago. There is u vacant plnco in mv homo and in my heart. Who shoul'd fill it like my sislor's child? Will you couio hero and livo, little NoniP" "Oh, I couldn't lujvvo Bou," said Honora, quickly-. "Who is Uun'P" "My husband." "Woman, do you suppose I want to part wifo and husband?'" said tho old man, a twinkle of humor in liis .shrowd eyes. "A lino, frank-faced vonng fellow ho soonis to bu," us ho oxU'iulud his hand to Bon. "You and are wolcomo hero." Ben; Carey smiled. "There's 'a baby, too," saiil ho, ."that wo couldn't very well leave behind." "i said 'you and yours," 1 repeat ad the tall old man. "Etulorliy," to tlia nma/Aul bullur, "call a cab for the lady logo back for her child, and got ilm front rooms ready for my nieeu and her family. And "now, toll mo, Honora, how it was that wo missed you when wo went to Palace garden for you that day?" "I don't know, uncle," said Honora, "1 waited there twenty-four hours, ana no one came, and then I took a place with Bun's mother, aud afterward I married Bun." •"It's perfectly unaccountable, 11 said her uuolo, knitting bis brows until they mado a lovi-l lino of snow. "But never mind, so long aa you are horo now. Tho bureau of emigration slKHild bo more efficient— that is all." For uoithor iiuclo nor niuce knew anything of tho smoldering cigar- KUurk and the lire that had boon so promptly extinguished by the tiro department. A trifle in" itsolf— such things huppon dully iu a great city— ' ' sip about theatrical people. If Miss Lillian Russell had mado up her mind, to elope, he know it before she did,and told the readers of his paper all about it. Managers have told me that thov often looked among Richardson's notes to lind out what wus t going on iu their own companies. Ono night last winter I was told by a clover and pleasant young fellow who had for two yours hold the place of dramatic reporter for one of our important papers, that in his round* that evening ho had received no less than three offers to join theatrical companies as their press agent. One of the offers camo from a New YoH{ manager who 1 would require no traveling from his agent and would pay him $50 a week, with u vacation of a mouth in in summer. His duly would bo to got all the free advertising for his ompk>3'- er that ho could manage. It may seem strange that a manager and his clerks can not write what aro known as press yours yet it hud •ara's d wrought great ohaugos life. ' ! notices so that they will suit the editorial eye and lind their way into print, but it is a well-known fact that a fluent writer with a knack for dressing up little bits of news or gossip for print is as rare us he is indispensable in every largo theater. It is the duty of this man tin know that tho chorus girls' stockings were changed to match tho prima donna's huTr and to put this fact in such shape i hut it will lind its way into print as an amusing item. • The famous Col. Muplosou. onco commander of Hor Majesty's operatic forces, who made a great deal of money by giving Italian opera in this country, was his own press agent, and a most ellieiunt one. Mupleson nsud to say i bill he got more free advertising in u wuuk than other managers got in month, simply because the reporters know that he was ul\vays ready for them with some talo worth printing. Ho kept a special note-book devoted to such stories or anecdotes as might look well in print. If there was a squabble in his company, ho was the first to send word dowii to the newspaper ollleos, with a request that tho reporter should call upon him. He reveled in squabbles, and I have more than half an idea that some o/ the furious feuds between members of his company were organized by the gallant Colonel in order that tlio newspapers might find a pretext for devoting a few columns to Ids affairs. He used to toll tho critics that ho liked abuso, provided that there wore columns of it; ho could stand anything but silence upon the part of tho press. When his prima donna had hor diamonds stolen, which happened every season, ho had no end of reminiscences about such misfortunes, and he was always nioro than willing to toll tho reporters all about tho affair, incidentally mentioning the fact that tho opera house was always crowded, and tho performances under Col. Mapleson's direction the best that America hud ever seen, Mapleson was a remarkable press agent, but ho was too extravagant to succeed as a manager. Ho made a clour profit of about $20,000 a year during the six or eight years of his prosperity horo, but ho spent $25,000. As u man, he never know what it was to bo down-hearted. No mutter how desperate were his straits, ho found moans to drink champagne at dinner I .. every day and to wear a January rose 8t< in his button-hole. "For instance, that story that old Bon Baker used to tell about Edwiu Booth being billed all over Rochester as 'Simple Edwin Booth, 1 I drew out of Baker, aud it made u capital anecdote for ever paper iu the towns whore Edwin Booth is to play this season. Booth took it into his h'eud in Rochester ono day that he would drop the 'Mr.' before his name on tho blur-bills, aud emit Baker to the printers to" make it 'simple Edwin Booth' wherever his name appeared in progams, posters or humNbills, BuUer gave the message, and the printer took it Hterullj-, wUl) Uie The magpie Is a bird of peculiar interest wherever he may be found, says the Virginia City Bnlerprise, and particularly so in tho state of Nevada, where he. ranks as a specialty, like the "Washoo canary." His stout, sharp beak—like a minor's pick—his unreasonable long stiff tail, and his lively, squuwky, chattering voice would make him a marked, specialty anj'- whero. As a rattling conversationalist he rivals the parrot, the raven, or the crow, and he is easily' domesticated, making a very comical aud amusing pet. Down at Mound House—junction of the C. & C. with tho V. & T. railroad —is another lively young magpie. He belongs to Dave Pitt man, conductor on the C. & C., and makes himself ut home in and around tho depot. He especially enjoys Hying into the open door or window of some temporarily stopping passenger car and having a garrulous chat with the passengers. The other morning, for instance, when tho local passenger train stopped there, us usual, "Barney" Hew in through tho rear door, perched himself on the back of ono of tho suats, and astonished the ladies and gents present with the volubility of his linguistic powers. Ho volunteered more information, than anybody had heard or ho know himself, waiting for no introduction to those who didn't know him. Everybody liked him and listened to him like an oracle. One familiar gentleman addressed him: "I sav, Barney." "WhutP" "Aro you there, Barney?" "Ah, there—pretty good 1 Ah, there —ha, ha, ha! dammit, get out! dry up —rats!" "Whore are yon going, BarneyP Are you a deadhead on this train?" "That's what. Hurrah! ha, ha, you bet! rats, rats!" "What's the news in politics, Bar- neyP Who's getting in?" "Barney, Barney, ha, ha, whoo, whoo! dammit, rats!" "But who is going to be the nex.. congressman?" "John Mackay, John Mackay! ha, ha, John Mackay!" "But which party is going to win, re publicans or democrats?" "Rats! rats! rats! ha, ha! dammit— rats!" the con- bagguge- Just here Jerry Bray, ductor, stepped in from the room. "Get out o' hero, you long-tailed rascal, whoosh!" and with a wilr!. derisive squawk Barney flitted out .,.(' the back door, flying back toward Mount House. "Oh, what a pity now," some of the ladies exclaimed; '"'he'll be lost." "Never you fear for him, ladies." responded Jerry; "he's all right. Have to run him out of this every day. Never allow him to deadhead any further than tlio Eureka dump." The trainmen, freight-handlers, and everybody about Mound House station knows Barney and handle him familiarly, yol have to bo on their guard lest lie should take a sly notion to nip a small chunk out of their linger or back of their hand with liis sharp, stout beak. Throe or four days ago, at the boarding-house vicar (lit;station, ho was having a lit i b tjuiscert wiiu :i pet canary, when, out of pure rollicking fun, lie gave his musical littlo friund a jovial poke with his bill under thu left oar. Directly after Barney stood over him watching ills death struggles, with his head cocked contemplatively over ono side, muttering "Dammit, 'ruts, rats, rats." Barney was arrested aud caged, lint for the two days that ho languished in the b,-usi ile ho never spoke u word or ovou squawked The mugpiti is a mischievously clo- ptruotivu fowl, perhaps more so in some localities than others. Harry I Bib- cock, the well-known mcri::iniiio traveler, tolls tho following which would bo bard lo believe coming from most anybody else. Gluguge's old stulioiMJii the Tu-<earoru road, night or nine miles from Elko, has boon deserted I'or some time, and the magpies have taken possession of it. Thoy tore tho shiiiifles off the roof to get iiiside, and picked the lock of the door. Then they curried off bedding, blankets, nud whatever odds and ends of provisions and things they could find. They even got away with tho cooking utensils aud stove-covers, and one day the passing stage-driver saw about forty of them doing their best to pack off the stove, but it was too much for thorn. They squawked terribly over their failure, but hud to give it up. The sultan's wi\os are divided into classes. There are tive of the twenty-four of the second, and 250 of the third. Ohio saloc-:"- keepers pay into the state ind local treasuries $2,452,601) this vpa.r, Tho Diamonds of the World. The probable value of all (he diamonds in the world, according to a recent estimate, is about $1,000,000,000. The world's diamond trudo is curried on by about 8,000 dealers, with a total stock of uot fur from $350,000,000. The stones ure prepared for market by'per* hups 4,oOO cutters uud polishers, priii- cipully in Aiusterdftuj, &utwt)n>,< #flti it" r There are hyo things that always riiake a hirtfi dfpum— mince pie and IOVH. — AlcliiMn (Hobti. ••The insolent conking Utensil" is ft ph>-;i«e for n saucepan credited to Bos* ton housekeepers. — Boston Transorlpl, Thirteen Is always an unlucky ntini i her, Adam's thirteenth rib was the cause of all his troubles. — Texas Sift* ings. In Spain the barber shears donkeys as well as men. In America the barber shears dudes as Well as men.— St. Joseph Aezfls, At 20 a man thinks ho knows it allj at 80 lie merely thinks he could have known it all if lie had tried.— Indianapolis Journal. Mr. Callowe— "Is tho report true thai yon are engaged?" Mlns Three Stuv*— "No sneli luck! I'm even oul of an engagement. 1 ' — N. I'. World. ''I hear your husband is quite a gallant- Do you ever lind any letters iu his pockets'?" Duly the ouns I give him to post." — Spare Moments. "Tho Clymers' reception was a failure. The rootiis were uot half full." "Well, some of the guests did their best to make up for it." — N. Y. Herald. "Well, little Fritz, how did you like your dinner?" asked his aunty. "0, we don't have auy better at home, but there's uiore of it." — Youth's Companion. Chappie — "I had a ten-mile gallop this afternoon and get back feeling as fresh as a daisy." Maud — "You have just returned, have you not?" — N. Y. Herald. II the average play were as • dry as many of the mun who witness it seem to bo tho drama might indeed be regarded as in a very" bad way. — Washington Post. "So you called at Mr. Jones' about that little bill." said the merchant to tho clerk. "Yes, sir." "And what did you lind outP" "Mr. Jones." — Washington Post. Customer — "Will these goods wash P" Epstein (injurodly; — "Vash? Vush? Mine frendt, dose goods voiihl stand a Turkish bath efery morning!" — American Grocer. "It was a terrible blow to the family," was what the man out West romark'ed to a friend after a cyclone had visited liis premises and carried away his house. — Yonkcrs Statesman. He — "Rememter you're taking my heart with you." Siio — "You are the lift!) man that has told me the same thing. You all must think I am a pork packer." — Yenowiue's A'ews. "What awfully poor billiards Missein plays, doesn't hoP" "Yes. Only natural, though." "How so?" "He's a detective, and you know they can't handle a cue." — St. Joseph News. Fleeced Player — "Lend me five dollars," Lucky "Player— "I'm afraid it will change ray luck." Fleeced Player — "Then leud me seven dollars— seven is a lucky number." — Texas Siftings. "About the most disagreeable man on earth," said Charlie Cashgo, "is the pawnbroker." "3'"8s," responded Billy Bonder,' dolefully; but we lyive to put up with him."— Washington Post. "What did the editor say about that seemed cheerful.enough -..--"Yes, but the will was read last nighj -^Brooklyn Life, Rose—"Ah, you're ready for the ' are you? It makes me think of schooldays to lobk at you. YoO V always "so clever at comnositib.fh" Maude— "¥es,» but what reminds yofl of it?" "You still make up so well. 1 '** St. Joseph Mews, Mrs. Do Styie^"! see the MormonS have voluntarily renounced poly* gamy." Mr. Co Style-"Yes th« scientists are right. The 1 earth is crowing colder, and I presume the climate of Utah lias become Cold enough for sealskin sacques."—j(v. .ri Weekly. Rich Banker (to future 8bU-!n*laW) —"I hope you appreciate, sir, that itt marrying my daughter you are marry* in" a" voting girl full of heart and generosity." Poor Young Man—"Yes, indeed, sir; and I hope she gets these qualities from her father."— Harper'* Jiazar. Guest to Landlord—"My room pleases me very much, indeed. There is a magnificent spectacle from tlia windows." Tho sight of those mountains wake in mo the fondest recollections." Landlord to waiter (whisper- lug)—"Charge him a dollar extra for having fond recollections waked."— Jfliegende Blatter. Old Fuddy—"George, just look In the dictionary and see what the moaning of syzygy is." George—"0, bother! Why not write tho adltor of the Sunbeam and ask him. It will save labor, and besides it will make him think wo aro literary lights." Old- Fuddy—"George, your'ro a genius, that's" what you are."— Boston Tran-,i script. RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME. Tlin Exprrlnnoo of 11 Hoy Who Grew Dl»- Klitlftfipil wIMi Ills Puronti. last story of yours, Fred?" "Said it wasn't worth the paper it was written upon." "Why don't you try poorer paper next tiuioP" — Philadelphia lie- cord. McCorkle (looking at the individual leaning against the lamp-post)— "That man has a queer name— Triangle." McCrackle — "It is appropriate, though. "Ho is u rye-tangled triauglo. "—West Shore. Weeks— "How do you account for the smoke curling from a guu when the hare is laid low?" Went man — It is queer! And it always curls after the hare has been haugedl" — American Grocer. Father— "Didn't I hear high words between you and your brother just now, Henry P" Henry— "Very likely, father; but surely you wouldn't wish mo to use low language." — Journal of Education. Thicker— "When my play is presented I want all my friends to bo tho (irst-uightors. Persuade them all to some." Rodnoy.-'-Yes. I'll tell them It will bo their ouly opportunity." — Munseifs Weekly. Visitor— "Isn't your mother afraid, Willie, of catching cold in those slippers?" Willie— "Hull. I guess you don't know thorn slippers! Ma uses them to warm the whole family with." —American Grocer, 'John," said Mr. Stinjry's wifo, "I wouldn't buy any more $2 trousers, if I were you." "Why not?" "This last jair you bought are the identical onus [ sold tho ragman six weeks ago for tifty cents."— xV, Y. Suu. McFiuglo— "I understand that you write for tho humorous papers?' 1 Mo- Fangle— "Yes that's so! I write for them evory week. My newsdealer loesii't keup the ones I want, you ^now." — Boston Traveller, "The difference 'twi.xt Tweedledum nul Tweedlodou? I suppose tho lirst Mr. Tvyeedlo couldn't speak," said Mrs. Spriggins. And Mr. Spriggins took ott his oout so that he might lati"'h in his sleeve,— Harper's fiagur. ° Eastern Man (iu Kansas) — "You wrote to me that Dugouiville was to bo he county seat; but I see that Sodroof- •ille has got it. How did that happen? 11 Dugoutville Man (sadly)— "We run out of ammunition." — tf. Y, Weekly. "O." says mamma to her husband, 'such good news! Baby talks. Ho ins just said his tirst words." "RuallyP" •Yes; just fancy. Wo were at the iioukoycage iu the park when the baby cried out, 'Ah. papa!'"— Chatter. Brlggs— "Have you heard tho latest? Jobisou has eloped with a chumlior- uuid." _ Griggs— "Heavens! What Dado hnn do thutP" Briggs— "I un- erstand she brought hlnj" uu extra qwol when ho a8 ijwd for H,"— Brook- n lift. "Young WuiUey seems low-suirited, wonder what; troubles him." "Hia An appreciative audience assembled at Plymoul h Church to hear tho famous writer on Southern life, Richard Malcolm Johnston, read selections from his own works. A double pleasure awaited it, for James Whitcomb Riley introduced Mr. Johnston with a story told in his inimitable manner. "There was once a boy." Mr. Riley said, "an aggrieved, "unappreciated boy, who grew"to dislike his own home very much, and found his parents not at all up to the standard of his requirements as a son and disciplinarian. He brooded over tho matter, and one morning before breakfast climbed over the bitek fence and run away. Ho thought of the surprise and remorse of his parents when they discovered that ho had indeed gone, and he pictured with rainbow colors the plnce he would make for himself iu tho world. He would show his parents that ho would not brook their ill-treatmqiit. and that ho could get along better without them than they could without him. Seme way this feeling of exhilaration died put as the long, hot day wore ou. There came a time when "other boys went home to dinner. He raided a neighboring orchard. The afternoon 1 " seemed endless. A knotted, rigicT'sbr't- of an aching spot came into his throat that seemed to hurt worse when he didn't notice it than when he did. It was a very curious, self-assertive opinionated sort of a pain. "It was nearly dark when the struggle was given up, and tho boy slowly walked along the dusty road "towards home. When ho reached the woodpile he gathered up a load of wood and carried it in with him. Tho hired girl was washing the supper dishes, but she did not socui glad to soe him, in fact, did not seem to have noticed that he had boon away. He sauntered carelessly into the pantry, but the cupboard was locked. He went out iu the hack yard and washed his foot at the rain-barrel. Everything seemed plousunlor than it overbad before. The fireflies flitting among tlio grapevines, tho reflection of the stars in tho ratal barrel, were soothing to tho tired boy. Ilien ho walked straight into the old sitting-room. His father'"didn't look up from his paper; his mother busy sowing she clidu't notice trance. •'Ho sat meekly down on tho «d<r e of a chair Why didn't somebody 0 say something? He was ready to bo scolded or punished, anything rather than this terrible silence/ If tho clock would only strike it would bo a relief. Wo heard the boys shouting far down tho street. br;t had no desire to join them—no, never again in the world. Ho just wanted to stay in of ni-dits right there at home, alwavs>° fl« coughed and moved to attract attention, but no ono hoard him nor looked, up. He couldiit remember anv prior was so his en- silence that at all approached" ft m pom of such profundity of depth and density of hush. Ho felt that ho 1m- self must break it. Assuming an air ot careless naturalness aud old-time ease, ho airily remarked; | "I.soe you've got tho same old cat.' "•I hut boy. "Mr. Ri| ey saicl '„ ^ Richard Malcolm Johnston, in who™ heart still abides a love forWo J, ° ! olis Instructions to Furniors, It is said that In many y vi ages boards are sot up bourin French the mcle is dead." "JJut his dend suyeru.1 days, nM« i TO.> h<? ,, ys seventy to 100 thu cockchafer. Birds- partment of Franco losVw Tyearlv '!""'«," or francs through ^ by Money Out of Her Pocket. 'Well, ma'am," said the fisherman f'sliokmh. obstor's olaw, iiore," h.a lead pencil "the oyster the season j« Wull, I've boon orn <r clams ot yours. S tow«l,ull sun mer "si! answered, - " boarder, surprise, Korviu' thorn big » H h2 'jiud whenever one of UUL lilt I

What members have found on this page

Get access to

  • The largest online newspaper archive
  • 8,900+ newspapers from the 1700s–2000s
  • Millions of additional pages added every month

Try it free