THg.CTm.DMMonrca. ALGONA. IOWA. WEPKESPAY. JANUARY u, i*u. of the Present. fbft Wprtmn 6f the ptcsctit la a swoei, fillurt&* , tiling. And quite M scntlmentnl tit the songs mi. ti . •he wreinl of nnniiS nhd dftnetng, and enjoys n „ tncttp tinip, 4na war followers doelnre tlmtslio's noroatnfo bifjstdlvlne. sick, * tlso present 18 ft parflffon 6f ftot tlid fellow- who enrt win her love deserves _ lior djvcctept mtiilo. •lid B a jrlrl whose* fnds and fancies ofttin take «a by mif'pHso, tfJinfc liwiH.slietnfty l;e lionrst and con- Borvailvo and wise. wptnfth of tlio present lias a thousand . rif fiigiiloh'fl hobhlca la ft subject ~. tni'ctfni- pnilfic. BOSpltalho Imperfections tlmlaro common to . tin here, If Biro docs her duty nobly, sWll be noted In Ijcr Bphcro. <fiio wfimnti of tlio present lores to ialBsto In a ^ 01*0 Wfl« But the 1 cholehst Specimens you meet aro _ liolUierrnlii nnMfiml. Ton II flntl licr nt tho tennis court, and often book In liiuid, Ana Wlmn vou wallc or drlvo with tier you're In ouclinnted lund. *ho *omnn of^ the present Is Inclined to flirt, %o'll let tluil, ont-Btlon so and uslc If sho can mukoffootl hrciult And further auk if she can mnko good cake Hint would OIIP s ai'petlloappoaso and causa them not to die. The woman of tho present, as we leave her to J>erfiil/o, Wo hope Rome rtny she'll win Hie lore of a oonvonlal mute: AM Whutwu oauuot undorslind or fully com- pr/'/joita, We trust Blio'll overlook and still consider us , _ — Moses Qngo Shirley. crudest stroi«e or/atei ••Can't vou giro a fellow ft Hme?" said he. "I've been and—-" "Oh, yes, that's Wot they nil ftay," said tho frmn. "We're give hiofe time a'ready than we can afford. Business is business; ninl if tho back installment.-! mii't sqtini-ed up by this dity week i!i • 'ofso will be cullod for— that's all." Poor I'.insyl Like most American farmer's suns, he lind been brought up to no particular trnde or profession, ftnd nil tluil day as ho jangled his bolls ap one slrcpt and down another, lovingly flicking the (lies fi-nui Old Wlilioys neck wttii the whip, ho badgered Ids bhiin-t to think what ho could do to laop Honora and the little one if tlio hoj-.s() wore tiikeii nwny. Nevertheless!, ho cam'o cheorftilty homo nt tho day's end. "Because I'lh in a bad box, it ain't worth while to scold and fret, and make Nora and the boy miserable," reasoned Bun. "1 got a good lot of old iron and household utensils lo-ilay, Nora, 11 said lie. cheerfully, when she brought tho baby out into tho back yard to milch him unload. "Pr'aps there might be something yon could use in tlio kitchen. There's a good, sound spider "And it i.hadn't -inttH in Mio rag business,"said honest Bed. "my wife? here, never would have dome into bef inrtuue. "—Fireside Companion. DRAMATIC REMiTEli PECULIAR BRANCH OF SERVICE IN VOGUE IN NEW YORK. result tlfat the cnst of the play appeared on evefy dead wall headed by Not n CHtlo lint a Oosilp Onttinrnr—Ool, Mnpinftnn n« ft Ptrtin Aseht— Ail Amtulnff story 6f Kdwln Booth. somewhere, and a gridiron with only one wlrn nnl. ntiil " one wire nnl, and Oil, Bon, an old-fashioned brass THE EMIGRANT GIRL. Down through tho skylight of tho grout emlgrant'ollioo tho sun beat like a gigantic burning-glass, the bine ilios turned noisily In tho window frames, and Honora Hough sat uneasily on her hard wooden benoh, her heart throbbing restlessly at every sound. "Is that 12 o'clock striking?" sho Ventured to ask at last of a good- i natural olllclal who was writing'at a tall desk close br. "That's 12 o'clock," ho said, carefully blotting page 91 before he turned to pago 92. "Anil no one has come for mo votP" "No ono has come for you yet.'' And the ofliuinl commenced on a new pago with a fresh dip of tho pen. Ilonora's heart boat faster than ever; a sort of mist seemed to gather over her blue eyes. Did sho fall asleep, or was it only a sort of waking swoon from which she aroused to hear some one'saying closo to her: "Ever since this time veslerdav, and not a soul has inquired for her. I think ijt's more than likely sho'd bo glad of a decent place. Wouldn't you, young woman?" "1 want some ono right away," said a spare, hard-featnrod,"elderly woman, with a basket on her arm an'd a crimp cap under her bonnet. "My daughter is very sick, and I can't got aloiM' no longer without help. This wages ain't high, but it's a good homo for any young woman; that I'll guarantee." Honora drew a long breath, glanced once more wistfully at tho window, and then decided. "I'll go," said sno. 1 Perhaps it was as well that she ar- rivoil at that conclusion. Tlio sickness incident to tho sun-voyage and the lon<' waiting for tho "friends" who had nol como hud pretty well undermined her nervous system, and sho was at least spared the shock of the "lire," which, although not serious—merely a spark rfroiii the still smoldering cigar of u ,gtfiilloman visitor, falling in a scrap- '•baskot full of lorn envelopes and papers—was mifticiont to give all tho .•employes, a good fright, mid to erase from tho 'emigrant bureau world all 'trace of poor little Honora Hough's < •whereabouts as penciled down on 0110 •of'tho slips of paper that wore destroyed. Sho wont homo with Mrs. Carey, Jielped nur.so poor litilo Sarah Carey •on lior weary journey out of tho world. \varmiiig-pan!" interrupted Nora, with breathless delight. "OhUfajihionod? Well, T should say so!" mild her husband. "Look at the filroaks of verdigris on it, and the queer llourlslie.s nnd (lie hitler'H 1 all ilono in t|iiorli<;uos and thingnuijigs on tho Ion." "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 cold, and had a'long turned hiindlo with a string to him" 1 it up by. Where did you got it, Ben?" "At an old house in 15th street, whom tlmy were overhauling and 'cleaning up. The butler sold mo the old things. Oh, I toll vou, Nora, it was a lino house! Eh?" What's tho ma I tor, Puss?" For Nora had turned pale, 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 before my eyes, and I can almost hear mv mother's voice again. Let us go to this place, Ben. List us see if this but lor man don't know something of tho people at homo. For I'm sure—quite sure— Ben, that this is tho very shining pan, with tho letter H for Hough, that used to hang on tho walls at homo." "But it can't be, Nora," said Ben. "Why can't it be, Bon?" "Well, to plo&30 you, my girl. I'll take you there to-morrow,' 1 wild Ben. "Not that I think it'll bo any use. Look at this lot o' picter books. I <rot 'cm cheap. I thought you could pick out something for the boy before we turned 'em over for paper stock." "Who is that, John? Whoso voice is that I hoar?" I beg pardon, sir,; I A few days ago ono of our pers contained an account of how two young men went to eighteen theaters in one owning and saw something of the play at each one. If Hwsu younw men had boon in the newspaper busi" ness they would scarcely have thought of their performance as a feat to boast of, for tho same thing is done every evening by tlio representative of each of our largo newspapers, and there- porter who makes tho round of the theaters not only looks in at the house. but often Interv'iows the manager and sometimes ono or two of the players. Tho critics, both musical and dramatic, have nothing to do with the news of tho nmtisemenk world. If an actor fp.lls.dcad on the stage, the critic may mention tho fact, but it is tho duty of the dramatic reporter, if tlio accident happens in a theater, or the musical reporter, if it is in, opera house or a concert hall, to find out all about it and treat it accordingly. I believe that Mr. Leander Riohard- son.^now tho editor of ono of our dramatic journals, was originally responsible for extending tlio field of dramatic journalism so that It might take in everything, from tho-details of the star's private life, down to the color of tho chorus girls' stockings. Richardson was employed as a.reporter on the 'limes, when, ten or fifteen years a."-o, ho began to mnko daily notes of what- this or that actor or actress had told him. Ho was acquainted with many professional people who wore onlv too glad to see thoir names in prim, ilich- ardson did his work so. well that tho place of tlieatrioal reporter was created for him^on tho Times, ami for several years his duties consisted in visitino-as many tlieal,ers MS lie could every evening, and following up every bit' " SAMLET « * Simple Edwln'Bobth, A good old Iftdv from the citMtry wha had read much about Booth, but who had nevef been to a theaterj was waiting for a stage at the cornet of Broadway and Fulton street one day tvith her son, a well-known editor, when a''sandwich"man passed bearing Ebwifc BOOTH AS HAMLET on his back, The old lady, who had never seon one of these gentry before, opened her eyes in astonishment. Ho was h particularly grotesque specimen of his race—it fat, red, blear-eyed tramp, srnokinsr a villainous pipe. "Dear mi)," said the old lady to her son, "I never thought Mr. Booth was that sort of a looking man, and I should think he would bo above carry- in^'that sign. Thev say that these actors don't loolc Weil ott tne stage,anct now I can believe it.— JV, Y. Cor. Chicago Journal. MAGPIES IN NEVADA. A Giirruloun Spcclmpn Tlmt Oonalps with BallroadPiiggengt-rg-noia Thieves. WIT AND I1UM011 took filial cnre of the old lady herself in tho days when rheumatism racked her every bone and joint, and Dually married Ben himself—Mrs. Carey's ! son and Sarah's brother—who, alas i'or ^ \ tho ri'igu of roiiiaiicu! was a dealer in i A rags and bottles, and daily drove a Uncart clamorous with bolls and drawn by a subdued old gray horse about the 'streets. "I al- ays thought," confessed Honora, "that I should marry a cattle king wlicn 1 came to I his eo'nnlry, or a < rich gold-dig;;-i!r. or something o'f that kind. lY-opIo get thiiiffs iwi.stod nil sorts of wnys in the old I'uuniry. But I am sure linn is nicer than any cattle Jcing could bo!' 1 "If 1 was a gold-digger, I hough," shrewdly observed Bon,*"! might have given you a bigger house than this little one-storied shanty, and something besides calico to wear." "I don't want anything but you, Bon!" said Honora, her pretty, quaint brpgua .accentuated, as it always was, by strong emotion, "And no millionaire of tho lot eimld Jovo yon bollor than I do, Nora," said thu young man, simply. It was all very well, this lovo-in-a- cottugo business, while (hoy worn well and trade held its own. But even in the rag-and-botllo profession there is competition—and llio horse fell lame, mid Ben Carey lay ill for weeks with u low type of fever, Then it was that, what with nursing Ben all day, ami walking the tloor with the teething baby ut night, and trying to edge in a little cloar-staroliing and lino needlework for u neighboring ladies' furnishing store between whiles, so that tho Btoro of money in tho cracked teapot on tho dresser-shelf need not run quite dry, Honora grow gaunt and palo, and her eyes got bigger and bluer dav bv day. Yet all this was forgot ton in tho delight of tho Jirst day when Bon start'oil out again will) tho wagon and Old Whiioy and the siring of clamorous bells, and Honora hold tho baby up to tho window lo laugh and clap his tiny hands with gloo. "Hold on there!" said a hard-featured man. with a dog's-eared .memorandum book under Ids arm, ''Not so fast, Mr. Carey, if you please. Them lust installments on thu 'orse wasn't 'aid, and ]'yo orders to clap down on "Hi. Our folks hua a call for just u 'orse." turned pale, would, , To loso iudced, 014 the T, . --. ---,, - hope it ain't disturbed you," said tho butler, apologetically. "It's a person in the rag- anil-bottle business* sir, as I made bold to dispose of some of the old household utensils. You was kind enough to tell mo, sir—-" But here Honora pushed' herself valiantly forward, holding tho brass implement iiko a golden shield before her, for she had polished it brilliantly until now it shono and glittered bravely. "It was this old-fashioned warinin"- pan," said sho. "Please, sir, I'm almost sure it used to hang on the home walls in County Cavan when I was a girl." "And who are you?" asked tho tall old man with tho sparkling light-blue eyes anil tho duke of Wellington- nose who stood lowering in the doorway. . '-I am Mrs. Carey, sir. Born Honora Hought" simplyoxplainod tho girl. "Honora Hough, who came over in tin; Merchant Prince, July 9, 18—, and who disappeared unaccountably, laav- injr no iruco behind her?" said tho old I'.an. }'''••«, sir, I came over in tho Morch Liit Prince. July 9, 18—," admitted Honora, with a Jiltlo gasp. "Ami— and I think you must bo mv Uncle Warren, for your eyes aro Tike my mother's, and when you speak (o me my heart answers back to the touo of your voice." She went up to him and put her hand confidingly in his. Ho bent over and kissed, her. "I believe," said he, "3-011 aro tho girl wo have looked for so long. My ditar, I^buriod your aunt a month ago. There is a vacant place in mv homo and in my heart. Who should fill it like my sister's child? Will vou como hero and live, lililo Nora?" "Oli, I couldn't louvo Bon," said Honora, quickly. "Who is Uou'P" "My husband." "Woman, do you suppose I want to part wifu and husband?" said tho old man, a twinkle of humor in his shrewd eyes. "A lino, frank-faced vonnsj follow ho seems to bo," as ho' extended his hand lo Ben, "You and yours are welcome hero." Bei; Caruy smiled. "There's a baby, too," said ho, "that wo could n't very well leave behind." "1 said 'you and yours,'" repeated the tall old man. "Emlorby," to tho nmaaod butler, "call a cab for thn lady logo back for her child, and got llm front rooms roadv for my nieeu and her family. And now, toll mo, lion- oi-n, how it was that wo missed you when wo went to Palace garden for you that day?" "I don't know, uncle," said Houora. "1 waitod there twenty-four hours, nmt no ouo came, and then I took a place with Ben's mother, and afterward I married Bon." 'it's perfectly unaccountable," said her undo, knitting his brows until they made a level lino of snow. "But never mind, so long as you are hero now. Tho bureau of emigration should be more etlieiont—that is all." For neither unclo uor niece knew anything of tho smoldering cigar- spark and the lire that had boon so promptly extinguished bv the firo department. A triilo in" itself—such things happen daily in a groat oitv— yet it hud wrought; great changes* iu 'ntMi'u Hf.i ' } ~ ' ^ sip about tlmatrioar people. If Miss Lillian Russell had 'made up her'mind to elope, he know it before she did,and told tho readers of his paper all about it. Managers have told me that they often looked among Richardson's note's to find out what was,going on iu their own companies. One night last winter I was told bv a clever and pleasant young fellow who had for two years hold the placo of dramatic reporter for one of our important papers, that in his rounds that evening ho had received no loss than three offers to join theatrical companies as their press agent. One of the offers camn from a New Yo-k -man- agor'who would require no traveliii" from his agent and would pay him $60 a week, with a vacation of a month iu in summer. His duty would bo to »-et all the free advertising for his employer that ho could manage. It may seem strange that a manager and his' clerks can not write what are known as press notices so that they will suit tho editorial eye and lind thoir 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 as he is indispensable in every lariro theater. It is the duty of this man to know that the chorus girls' stockings were changed to match tho prima (lonua's hah-and to put this fact in such shape i hat it will lind its way into print as an amusing item, • Thu famous Col. Maploson. once commander of Her Majesty's operatic forces, who made a groat deal of money by giving Italian opera in this conn- try, was his own press agent, and a most olliuiunt ono. Mapleson nsml to say i h;ii, he got more free advertising in \\ week than other managers uol in month, simply because the" reporters knew that he was always ready for them with some talo worth printing. Ho kept ;i special note-book devoted lo such stories or anecdotes as might look well in print. If there was a squabble in his company, he was the lirst to send word down to the newspaper offices, with a request that the reporter should call upon him. He reveled in squabbles, ami 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 were columns of it; ho could stand anything but silence upon tho part of tho press. When his prima donna had her diamonds stolon, which happened every season, ho had no ond of rominisco'nces about such misfortunes, and he was always more than willing to toll the reporters all about the affair, incidentally mentioning tlio fact that the opera house was always crowded, and the performances under Col, Mapleson's direction the best that America had ever seen. Mapleson was a remarkable press agent, but ho was too extravagant to succeed as a manager. Ho made a, clear profit of about $20,000 a year during tho six or eight years of his prosperity here, but ho spent $25,000. As a man, he never know" what it was to bo down-hearted. No matter how desperate were his straits, ho found moans to drink champagne at dinner every day and to wear a January rose in his button-hole. "For instance, that story that old Bon Bakor used to tell about Edwin Booth being billed all over Rochester as 'Siiuplo Edwin Booth,' I drew out of Baker, and it made a capital anecdote forever paper in the towns whore Edwin Booth ' " " Hurrah! ha, ha, you Tho magpie is a bird of peculiar interest wherever he may bo found, says the Virginia City Enterprise, and pa'r- tlcularly so iu tho state of Nevada, where he ranks as a specialty, like the "Wnshoo canary." His stout, sharp beak—like a miner's pick—his Unreasonable long stiff tail, and his lively, squawky, chattering voice would make him a marked specialty anywhere. As a rattling conversationalist ho rivals tho parrot, ihe raven, or the crow, and he is easily domesticated, making a very comical and 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 at home in and around the 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 the local passenger train stopped there, as usual, "Barney" How in through tlio rear door, perched himself on the back of ouo of tho seats, and astonished the ladies and gents present with the volubility of liis linguistic powers. Ho volunteered more information than anybody had heard or he know himself, wailing for no introduction to those oigos- W | 10 ( ff lh , H know , ljmi Everybody liked him and listened to him like an oracle. One familiar geuUoman addressed him: "I say, Barnev." "What?" "Aro you there, Barney?" "Ah, there—pretty good! Ah, there —ha, ha, ha! daiiimit, get out! dry up —rats!" v "Whore are 3-011 going, Barney? Are you a deadhead on this train?" "That's what, bet! rats, rats!" "What's the news in politics, Barney? Who's getting in?" "Barney,. Barney, ha. ha, whoo, whoo! dammit, rats!" "But who is going to be the next congressman?" "John Mackay, John Mackay! ha, ha, John Mackay!" "But which party is going to win, republicans or democrats?" "Rats! rats! rats! 1m, ha! dammit— rats!" Just hero Jerry Bray, the conductor, stepped in from the ba«-ga"-e- room. "Get out o 1 hero, you long-tailed rascal, whoosh!" and with a wild, derisive squawk Barney Hitted out of the back door, Hying back toward Mound House. "Oh, what a pity now," some of tho ladies exclaimed; "he'll bo 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 the Eureka dump." The trainmen, freight-handlers, and everybody about Mound House station knows Barney and handle him familiarly, yet have to bo on their guard lest he should take a sly notion to nip a small chunk out of thoir linger or back of their hand with his sharp, stout beak. Three or four days ago. at tlio boarding-house ncsir i ho sin! ion, ho was having a little, noneert witn :i pot canary, when, out of pure rollicking fun, he gave his musical little friend a jovial poke wiih his bill undo!- the left oar, Directly after Barney stood over him watching his death struggles, with his head ooirfcwl contamnliilmdy over ouo sido, muttering •'Dammit, rats, rats, rats," Barney wits arrested and caged, but for the two days that ho languished in tho bastile he never spoke a, word or oven squawked The magpie is a mischievously do- Kinuaivo fowl, perhaps more so in'some lunaliiios than others. Harry 1 li.ii- coek, the well-known moivinuiiu traveler, tolls iho following which would be hard to believe coming from most anybody else. Glugage's old station on the Tmoarnra road,"eight or nine miles from Elko, has been deserted I'or some time, and tho magpies have taken possession of it. They tore the shingles ott' the roof to get inside, and picked tho lock of the door. Then they carried off bedding, blankets, and whatever odds and ends of provisions and things they could find. They even got away with the cooking utensils and stove-covers, and one day the passiiv stage-driver saw about forty of them doing their best to pnek off the stove, but it was too much for them. They squawked terribly over thoir failure, but had to give it up. Thefe ate two things that mak« a man drpum— mince pie and 16 Vn.— AtcMnoti tji'tibe. "Tlio insolent cooking utensil'* is phra«o for a saucepan credited to B ton housekeepers.— /?oSto» Transcript. Thirteen Is Always an imlncky ntiili- ber» Adam's thirteenth rib wa8 the cause of ull his troubles, — Texas Siftings. In Spain the barber shents donkeys as well as mon. In America the barber shears dudes as well as men.— SL Joseph News. At 20 a man thinks ho knows it allj at 80 ho merely thinks he could have known it nil if lie liad tried. — Indiaii- apolis Journal. Mr. Callowe— "Is the report true that you are engaged?" Miss Three Slavs — "No such luck! I'm even out of an engagement.'' — JV. J. World. ''I hear your husband is quite a gallant Do you ever lind any letters in his pockets?" Only the ones I give him to post." — Spare Moments. "The Clymers' reception was a failure. Tlio rooriis wore not 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 any better at home, but there's more of it." — Youths Companion. Chappie— "I had a ten-mile gallop this afternoon and got back feeling as fresh as a daisy." Maud — "You have just returned, have you not?" — N. Y. Herald. If the average play were as • dry as many of the mou wlio witness it scorn to be the drama miirht 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 tlio clerk. "Yes, sir." "And what did you liucl outP" "Mr. Jones."— Washington Post. Customer—"Will these goodswash?" Epstein (iiijiirodly;—"Vash? Vash? Mine fremit, dose goods vould stand a Turkish bath efery morning!"— American Grocer. "It was a terrible blow to the family," was what the man out West remarked to a friend after a cyclone had visited his premises and carried uway his house.— Yonlcers Statesman. He—"Rememtor you're taking my heart with you." Siio—"You are the fifiii man that has told me tho same thing. You all must think I am a pork packer."— Yenowiue's Kews. "What awfully poor billiards Missem plays, doesn't boP" "Yes. Only natural, though." "How so?" "He's a detcctivo, and you know they can't handle a cue."— St. Joseph News. Fleeced Player—"Lend me five dollars," Lucky Player—-Pm afraid it will change my luck." Fleeced Player— "Then leud me seven, dollars—seven is a lucky number."— Texas Si/tings. "About the most disagreeable man on earth," said Charlie Cashgo, "is the pawnbroker." "Yes," responded Billy Bonder,' dolefully; but we luive to put up with him."— Washington Post. "What did the editor say about that last story of yours, Fred?" "Said it wasn't worth the paper it was written upon." "Why don't you try poorer paper next time?"— Philadelphia lie- cord. McCorlde (looking at the individual leaning against the lamp-post)—"That man has a queer name—Triangle." McCrackle—"Itis appropriate, though. "Ho is a rye-tangled triangle."— West Shore. Weeks—"How do you account for the smoke curling from a gnu when the hare is laid low?" Wentman—It is queer! Audit always curls after tlio hare has been haugedl"— American Grocer. seemed clrtcttm enough ttriltl "Yes, but the will was read last n —Brooklyn Life. Rose—"Ah, yon're ready for the acevouP It makes nie think of schooldars to look at you. You W6f$ always "so clever at eompositiQfl." Matifle—"Ifesj but what reminds you bf it?" "You still make up so well."** St, Joseph tiews. Mrs. Do Stylo—"I see the Mormoni hare voluntarily renounced poly* gamy." Mr. fid Style—"Yes thd scientists are right* . The Oufth h growing colder, and I presume thd ciliimite of Utah has become cold enough for sealskin sacques. "—>.«• Jri Wucwy. Rich Banker (to future' son-irt-lftW) —"I hope you appreciate, sir, that in marrying my daiiglitor yoii are marty* ing a" young girl full of heart nhd generosity." Poor Young Man— "Yes, indeed, sir; and I hope sho gets thesd qualities from her father."— Harpist Jiaznr. Guest to Landlord—"My rooia pleases me very muoh, indeed. There is a magnificent spectacle from tha windows." The sight of those mount*' aius wake in mo the fondest rooplleo* tipns." Landlord to waiter (whispering)—"Charge him a dollar extra for having fond recollections waked."— JFliegeiide Blatter. Old Fuddy—"George, just look in the dictionary and see what the meaning of syzygy is." George—"0, bother! YV'hy not write t!ie editor of the Sunbeam and ask him. It will save labor, and besides it will make him think wo are literary lights." Old-., Fuddy—"George, your'ro a genius, that's" what you aro."— Uonton Tran-. script. RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME. Thn Expnrlonon of n Hoy \V!io Grew DU« miHsflpd wIMi UN PHrnnU. The sultan's three classes. life. „ . , . • ,'s to play this season. 4ooth took it into his head in Rochester one day that he would drop the 'Mr.' before his name on the blay-bills, and aeut Baker to tho printers to make it'simple Edwin Booth' whin-over Ids name appeared in progums, posters or hand-bills. Baker gave the message. »nd the pi'itjUir took it litwilly, w»tU file wi\as are divided into There lire five of the of the Father—"Didn't I hear high words between you and your brother just now, Henry?" Henry—"Very likely, father; out surely you wouldn't wish mo to use low language."-. Journal of Education. Tiucker—"When my play is presented I want all my friends to bo tho iirst-nighlors. Persuade them all to pome." Rodney--"Yes. I'll tell them it will be their only opportunity."— Munsey's Weekly. Visitor—"Isn't your mother afraid, Willie, of catching cold in those slippers?" Willie—"Huh, I guess you don't know them slippers! Ma lises them to warm the whole family with." — American Grocer, "John,", said Mr. Stingy's wife, "I wouldn't buy any more $2 trousers, if I were yon." "Why not?" "This last pair you bought are tho identical ones I sold Iho ragman six weeks a"o for fifty cents."—zV. Y, Sun. MeFinglo—"I understand that you. write for tho humorous papers?' 1 Me- Fangle—"Yes that's so! I write for them every week. My newsdealer doesn t keep tho ones I want, vou. know."— Boston Traveller. "The difference 'twixt Tweedledum and IweodlodeoP I suppose tho lirst Mr, Tweedle couldn't speak."said Mrs Spriggins. And Mr. Spriggina took on Ins cout so that ho might laii'«-h in his sleeve.— Harper's linzar, ° Eastern Man An appreciative andionco assembled at Plymouth Church to hear the famous writer on Southern life, Richard Malcolm Johnston, road selections from his own works. A double pleasure awaited it, for James Wliitcomb 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 sou and disciplinarian. He brooded over tho matter, and one morning before breakfast climbed over the brtck fence and ran awav. He thought of the surprise and remorse of his parents when they discovered that ho had indeed gouo, and he pictured with rainbow colors the place he would make for himself in tho world. He would show his parents that ho would not brook their ill-treatment, and that ho could get along bettor without them than they could without him. Some way this feeling of exhilaration died out as the long, hot dav wore on. There came a time when" other boys wi>nt home to dinner. Ho raided a neighboring orchard. Tho afternoon* seemed endless. A knotted, rigi'il 'sort of an aching spot came into his throat that seemed to hurt worso when he didn't notice it than when ho did. It was n very curious, self-assertive opinionated sort of a pain. "It was nearly dark when the struggle was given up. and tho bov 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. The hired girl was washing the supper dishes, but she (id not seem glad to see him, in f ac t, did not seem to have noticed that he had been away. He sauntered care- o-'.sly into the pantry, but tho cupboard was locked. He went out in the imck yard and washed his foot at the ram-barrel. Everything seemed pleasanter than it ever hud before. The irollms fluting among tl.o grapevines, tho reflection of tho stars in tho rainl barrel, were soothing to tho tired bov. I hen he walked straight into the old sitting-room. His father «Vlidn' t look up from his pap,.,-; his mother was so i.v sowing she didn't notico his en- Ho sat meekly down on tho «|"e of a chair Why didn't somebody 0 say something? Ho was ready to be scolded or punished. aimhhV rather than this terrible silence/ If the clock would only strike it would bo a re "of He hoard the boys shouting far down '« siroot. but had no desTro to Jofo thoi i-no. never again in the world H« just wanted to stay in of ,i°,ts right there nt home, alwavs> 0 He-' coughed and moved to attract alien.'' on, hiu no one heard him nor loo ed. up. ilo couldn't remember any , r ior sdmieo that at all approached" /"n pom of such profundity of depth and iasa.^^ 11 " 111 ""- Assuming nllo j r ot careless naturalness and ease, ho airily remarked: "'L°°* -' 0 "'™ ot "»« 1 m . lo j r old-ti ma * old his Instructions to Farmers. Ohio galop* keepers pay into the plate uul local in-fiujriosfi', 452, 60J> this y Tho Diamonds of the World. The probable value of nil the diamonds in tho world, according to a ro. cent estimate, is about 11,000,000.000. The world's diamond trade is carried on by about 8,000 dealers, with 11 total stock of m>t fur from $350,000,000. The stones are prepared for market by' pur* haps -1.600 cutters wnd polishers, prin. in Amsterdam, Aotwero,' Purls Jura. f (in Kansas) — wrote to me that Dugoutville was to bo the county sent; but I sou that Sodroof- ville uistfotit. How did that happen?'' Dujr.mtville Man (sadly)— "W« i»m ov.' of ammunition."— #. Y. Weekly. "O," says mamma to her such good news! Baby husband talks. He Don't destroys twnty n. sects hourly. Don't kill iuo"n Kill has just said Ida ttrst words." "Really?' "Yes; just fancy. Wo were at 'the monkey cage in tho park when the baby cried out, -Ah, papa!'"— Clmtter. Brlggs— "Have you heard tho latest? ttobisou has eloped with a chamber- muid." Griggs-"Heavens! What made him do that?" Briggs—"I un. demand she brought him an extra towel when ho asked for it."™' lyn Lift, "Young Waitley seems J wonder wlutt troubles him." «'Hi 8 uncle is dead." "But his uuo)« has been detvd several days, W h e Juja Money Out of frer Pocket.
What members have found on this page
Get access to Newspapers.com
- The largest online newspaper archive
- 8,900+ newspapers from the 1700s–2000s
- Millions of additional pages added every month