THE HILLHEIM JOlR\ 'L.
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Office in the New Journal Building,
Tenn St., near Hartman'e foundry.
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Address letters to Millhf.im Journal.
NO MOTHER NOW.
I have no mother now,
That faithful heart is stilled;
The voice forever hushed :
The lips forever chilled.
I have no mother now,
" She sleeps beneath the sod ;
Her weary heart's at rest;
Her spirit is with Hod.
I have no mother now:
What bitter tears of woe
Fall o'er a mother's toinli.
No one save orphans know.
But He, that Hod of love,
Knows all our chef and pain;
And soon the loved and lost
Will give to us again.
T WILL SOON BE DAY.
However wild the thunder,
However dark the way;
Though skies seem rent asunder—
' Keep on, right ou, alway.
Though sounds and shapes uncertain.
Weird-like, about you play;
Hod vet will Hit the curtain-
Keep on;'t will soon be day.
FATE AND THE FUTURE.
I can almost see it yet ; the long
winding turnpike road leading up the
hill to the school house, dotted on eith
er side with white cottages, with fringe
of silver maples that formed a sort of
arcade, from the town pump in the
valley to the tall red house where, year
in, year out, with the exception of Sat
urday, grim old Mr. Nickelby Glasgow
held undisputed sway over an infan
tile domaiu which recognized but oue
power superior to bis, and that the
birch rod, which he wielded alike re
gardless of jacket and wearer ; yet he
was a good well-meaning soul, this Mr.
Nickelby Glasgow, take him before
nine o'clock or after four, and I trust
he rests well iu the genial shade of the
very trees he plundered to facilitate ed
ucation.
The old school house stands at the
head of the bill yet, and the boughs of
the silver maples interlace as tenderly
as they did on the day that Mary
Throne and I walked up the turnpike
road for the last time. Let me see ;it
must be ten years ago, for I was six
teen and she was a year younger. I
remember that I carried her satchel,
auu that she trudged along very close
at my side. I talked very soberly of go
ing away, and she cried very softly be
hind a brown veil.
"Going away 1" she repeated after
me, with a pitiful attempt at indiffer
ence.— I "Going away ! When and
where ?"
"To-day, Mary," I made answer.
"You know there is no home for me
here since mother died—no home for
me any where except the one I shall
make for myself and—and you, Mary."
She stopped and leaned against the
trnnk of a maple, and looked at me
half quizzically from the shade of the
browu veil; she seemed to be lauguiDg,
bnt there were tears in the laugh, and
tears were trickling down her face.
"But where are you going ?" A
pause between every other word.
"I cannot tell you, but to some place
where there is a chance fora poorboy ;
and it seems to me that I ought to go
a long distance from here to find
that."
She was still leaning against the
tree, looking up at me.
"Are you so very poor.then ?" she
queried. I remember I laughed at her
question, and she accepted the laugh
in reply, and continued, "Ah, ye 3, you
are, I know,and it is terrible to be
poor, is it not V"
"I trust you may never know just
how terrible it is," I said.
I saw her baud fumbliug at the pock
et of her dress ; by-and-by the hand
was withdrawn, and I saw that the fin*
gers were pressed tightly over a deli
cate silken purse, on which her mono
gram, "M. T.," was quaintly embroid
ered in a bright shade of floss.
"Here, Bob, take this," she said,
pushing the purse into my reluctant
palm. "It isu't much, but it will help
you. Now don't refuse, unless you
want to make me angry."
I did not refuse ; perhaps I did
wrong ia taking it, but it certainly
would have boen a greater wrong had
I deuied her wish. Feeling, however,
I was wrong in accepting the purse,the |
only chauce I saw to retrive myself lay
in makiug a return of some kind. My
store of worldly effects was meagre,but
I had a ring which iu her youth my
mother had worn. It wa3 a quaint de
vice of Etruscan gold, curiously
wrought, and of marvelous beauty if
not worth. She had given it to me
just before she died, as she laid her
hand on ray head and bade rue be true
to myself and her.
"Take this, my son," she had said,
"and some day wheu you haye found a
girl sweet and good whom you may
love even better than you do ine, and
say that iu heaven I will watch over
you both and wait for your coming."
Surely I had found the "sweet, good
girl," and I slipped tie ring from my
finger and kissed it, then laid it in Map
y's hand.
"It was mother's," I said. "Wear
DEININGER & BUMILLER, Editors and Proprietors.
VOL. 58.
it, Mary, as the seal of our betrothal ;
wear it, and I know you will always
think of me.'
"Good-by, Mary."
I meant to be very calm, very self.
(Kissed ; tears were for women, I
thought, loftily and repression for
men ; and I looked down on her
trembling little figure,vaguely outlined
agaiust tho red background of the
school house wall, then I looked down
the road—tho road we might never
walk again—and thought of all that
had been, and might be, and my heart
seemed to leap full in my throat and
almost choked me ; and then I broke
down entirely, and we were crying in
concert—and, well, I was but sixteen,
and she was younger.
The school house bell clanged omin
ously, and tang an unconscious knell
to our friendship ; the moment of part
ing had come.
"Good-by, Bob," sho said, softly.
4 Kiss me. Bob."
1 bent and kissed her. I presume if
Mr. Nickelby Glasgow was looking,
his seDse of prudence and propriety
was outraged ; however, I kissed her
not once but twice and thrice and
then—
"Good-by, Bob."
4, G00d-by, Mary."
We had parted.
That was ten years ago, ten years of
trial, privation, and final reward. At
the outset I knew the world was a
gainst me, and that I was against the
world. But I was resolute, presever
ing and, above all,hopeful. There was
many a struggle, a long, long series of
disappointments—moments when hope
was all but vanquished and despair su
preme. But I struggled ou, determin
ed to conquer, not be conquered ; and
what is impossible to youth, blessed
with health, hope and ambition to suc
ceed ?
I cannot bring myself to believe that
a recital of struggles, temptation and fi
nal achievement, however glowing,
told by one's self is interesting to oth
ers; therefore I shall notlengtnen mine.
Simply suffice it to say that from the
position of an office boy to a legal firm
I advanced to clerk, then to student,
and finally to junior partnership. All
this was, of course, not accomplished
as easily as written. There was many
a lapse from the gaol of ambition,man
y a quiet heart-ache, many a moment
of complete discouragement. But
nothing, however paltry, was beneatli
my notice, nothiug, however great, be
yond my energy. From "Bob" I rose
totne diguity of "Robert," from that to
the high estate of "youug Halleck,"
and finally to the pre-eminence of
"Robert Halleck,Esq. ;" and ten years
had gone by since the May afternoon
when in the shadow of the school
house wall I had said farewell to Mary
Throne.
What of her, you ask V Well, to go
back again too the outset of my career,
I was then to miserably poor to indulge
in the luxury of regular meals, to say
nothing of a correspondence. But fi
nally I did write a long letter, telling of
my battles and beggiug a reply. A
month passed, but none came ; then I
wrote again, again and again, but each
letter met with the similar fate. Fin
ally, in sheer despair, I wrote to Mr.
Nickelbv Glasgow, assuring him in an
apologetic sort of way that I knew he
was anxious to hear of my welfare,and
dually concluding with a postscript
much longer than the letter itself, in
which I iuquired the whereabouts and
fate of little Mary Throne.
Then I waited patiently enough for
his reply, which came at last, encased
in a yellow envelope, addressed in large
scbolary hiroglyphics, and was alto
gether just such an epistle as Mr. Nick
elby Glasgow and Mr. Nickelby Glas
gow alone could indite. lie was -glad
to hear of my health and prosperity ;
hoped I read my Bible regularly on ris
ing and retiring ; the former ceremony
he trusted occurred not later than si x
o'clock A. M., and the latter not later
than eight o'clock P. M. lie feared I
was wrong in leaving my native com
munity, and he assured me I was
greatly missed. Then he went 0:1 to
say the school had rather deteriorated
of late, the scholars were few, and the
pay ii regular and small. He hinted
modestly that the scholars, young and
old—a deep line under the last clause
were to make him a substantial present
at the close of the term,and then referr
ed vaguely to the years he had labored
in behalf of childhood, and the arduous
labor that it was. The letter ran to a
considerable length; told me the village
but< her was dead,the apothecary bank
rupt, the little widow who kept the
millinery shop at the corner remarried,
and then--just as my patience had
readied the limit of endurance—ray
eye caught the name of Mary Throne.
"I am very grieved," he wrote, "to
inform you that the Thrones have gone
I know not wither, the cause thereof
being the receut reverses sustained by
Mr. Throne, where by his fortune was
entirely consumed. I know you will
MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 10., 1884.
share the regret I experienced at their
removal ; they were excellent people,
and Mr. Throne's name was foremost
in all charities, of which tho school
fund was the principal one."
I tossed the letter away, and my
heart and thoughts went out to the lit
tle girl struggling, pet Imps, just as I
was struggling, lighting the same hard
battle, bearing the same heavy burden,
only with less strength than I. 1 tried
to And her, why, I do not know, unless
L fancied it would make both loads
lighter to feel the other near. But all
was in vain, and year glided into year,
and the yearning of my heart grew less,
though my love never did. 1 laid the
silken purse with its tloss monogram
"M. T.," away, and laid with it the
sweet hopes and memories of the one
I telt was lost to me. Then I went
back to the battle of life again, fortified
and defiant.
Yet never a speech ilid I make in a
crowded court room that it did not
seem to uie the influence of Mary-
Throne insensibly and invisibly affect
ed it. Never a book did I read bill
that the purest,sweetest character in it
1 felt was suggested by and suggestive
of her's. Never a fair face did I see
but her's was before me, in the full
bloom of her beauty whose opening
tints remained in memory still.
And ten years had come and gone,
and the snows of an early winter lay
upon the streets and house tops, and
shook from the leafless branches of the
trees as they swayed to and fro with
a doleful sort of cadence, and sharpened
the already cutting air. Yet, spite of
this, the lights of the city shone with
brilliance undiminished, and occasion
ally aboye the sighing of the wind rose
the echo of a merry laugh, a broken
song, or a strain of music ; then the
wiDd was uppermost again.
The clock in the old Trinity was
striking twelve, I had passed into
Broadway, had buttoned my coat
tightly about me, and was waiting for
a cab to carry me homo. You see I
ride in cabs nowadays ;they are one of
my favorite follies, and throw money
into a good channel of circulation.
The last chime had died aw*y, and on
ly the hum of clanging bells remained.
I looked down the street in search of
my cab, and straightway looked back
again, at the sound of a low voice at
my elbow.
"I—l beg pardon, sir ; but can you
direct me to the Bowery, please ?"
Looking down I saw the shrinking
form of a woman leaning against the
lamp-post at my side. The voice was
low and inexpressively sweet, and al
most lost beneath the shawl which cov
ered the head and shoulders so com
pletely that only the white outline of
the face was visible ; yet there was
something about either the face or the
voice which attracted mo irresistibly.
"The Bowery ?" I repeated. "I
can scarcely direct you, it is so very
far from here."
"How far please ?"
There was a mute appeal in the voice
and it seemed for an instant to magne
tize me. I caught a glimpse of bright,
dark eyes shining behind the shadow of
the shawl as mechanically I replied—
"At least an hours walk. Is there
anything 1 can do for you ?"
"No—yes—no ; 1 must find the
Bowery."
"At this hour of the night ?" It is
very cold, and their are many dan
gers."
"Cold ! What is cold when the
brain is aflame ? What are the dan
gers to a starving wretch like mo V"
She staggered back against the lamp
post for support.
"Pardon me, sir, for speaking so, for
speaking at all ; but I must find—"
The voice died away entirely now,
and was lost in a great convulsive
sob that shook the little figure as the
beating of the storm does a reed, and
me back in my life to the old turnpike
road, with its arcade of maples, and
the litte girl who was bidding me
good-by. A spirit of the lost one
seemed to pervade me,and placing mv
hand on the shrinking figure I said—
"lf you are in need I will assist
you."
"In need !" she repeated. "Oh,
sir, the words are feeble ; 1 am starv
ing, sir ! We are starving—mother,
the children and lat home. lam 110
beggar, but we must have relief, and
if I could find the Bowery I would
part with this—his ring."
She slipped something from her fin
ger, and at the same time the shawl
dropped from her face. It was I who
staggered backward now, and clung
white and trembling to her arm, for
getful of everything but the one hope
that possessed me. I did not speak—
I could not—and she continued, hold
ing out in the moonlight a thread-like
hand of gold whose quaint design I
knew full well—
"Here is the ring, sir ; will you
buy it ? What will you give ?"
I caught her in my arms like a cra
zy man.
"My love—my life—everything I
have, Mary 1
\ PA PR 11 FOR THE HOME CIRCLE
The ring fell from her grasp, and
she sprang back with a scream of joy.
"Hub—Hob—o Hob !"
And she was erving on my breast,
just as she had cried a dozen years
before, and just as she will never cry
again, (iodwilling ; for she is mine
now, all mine, for there was a solemn
and beautiful wedding next day, and
we are happy as the day# are long,
Mary ami I.
Toys and National Traits.
"Show me a nation's toys," said Mr.
Crandall, the'children's friend,' "and
1 will tell you what kind of people
they are. Now the Germans, you
know, are a great toy nation; they go
go in for quantity rather than quality.
They manufacture toys and every
i child in the couutiy has them. Every
German child,sir, has plenty of toys.
; What is the result? Why, we lind
them the most soc*uble, kindly,
Imm st people in tlio world, possessed of
all the household virtues; kind to
| their wives and children. Then the
French ; they go in for quality rather
than quantity; everything they make
is a work of art; their children have
few toys, and those they have are very
expensive, and musl be played with in
a quiet, genteel way. llow do you
find the French? why, very polite, refin
ed, suave.
"Take the Chinese. They are a
great toy nation; they ascend to the
sKy and decern! into the sea for ideas
in regard to toys, and spare no pains
in making them. and giants,
and dwarfs, and strange fish, and sea
serpents, and curious nondescript be
ings and animals all serve, and then
give the children plenty of them; result
is that the Chinese are like the Ger
mans, among themselves sociable, great
for great days and celebrations, and
very industrious. Japanese are much
the same. The English now run more
011 out-door toys and games which ex
ercise—projectiles, tenuis, foot ball,
cricket, shinny, hoop, marbles. The
boys play tag and pull-away and all
such running games and the girls play
ring games. How do we find the En
glish? Jovial, atheletic, rough and
boisterous. Again, look at the Span
iards; very few toys they use. What's
the result? Why , they are treacherous,
harsh, implacable. Then the Indians
—our own Indian s—the only toy they
have is the bow. Well, now tins cul
tivated and killing instincts only.
What was the result? Why, we had to
kill tliern all off; they were entirely un
tamable. The Esquimax, he has no
toys at all, and he is the meanest si>eci
meu of mankind on God's footstool.
For the Boys.
The Wide Awake gives the following
story which is all the belter for being
true. Two men stood at the same table
in a large factory in Philadelphia,
working at the same trade. Having
an hour for their nooning eveiy day,
each undertook to use it in accomplish
ing a definite purpose; each preserved
for about the same number of months,
and each won success at last. One of
these two mechanics used his daily
leisure hour in working out the inven
tion of a machine for sawing a block of
wood into almost any desired shape.
When his invention was complete, he
sold the patent for a fortune, changed
his workman's aprun for a broadcloth
suit, and moved out of a tenement
house, into a brown-stone mansion.
The other man—what did he do? Well,
he spent an hour each day during most
of a year in the very difficult undertak
ing of teaching a little dog to stand on
his hind feet and dance a jig, while lie
played the tune. At last accounts he
was working ten hours a day at the
same trade and at his old wages, and
finding fault with tl'ie fate that made
his fellow workman rich while leaving
him poor. Leisure minutes may bring
golden grain to mind as well as purse,
if one harvests wli eat instead of chaff.
Keep the Children Warm.
Half the illness and fret fulness of
little children might be prevented by
keeping them warm enough. They
arc often so unequally dressed—some
parts covered to excess, and others,
more vital still, loft almost unclothed
—that they are in constant discom
fort. They cannot toll the difficulty;
and thoughtless mothers dismiss the
whole subject with the general com
plaint of crossness. Warm under
fiannels and good homo-made woolen
stockings are a comfort beyond com
putation in the winter season. When
worn in the winter it is common to
delay in putting them ou until the
seeds of a sad cold are sown, which
may last for the season or even for
life. If the mother is ouly before
handed with her calculations for the
changing seasons, this might all be
prevented.
A Dakota Hail-Storm.
Experience of an Eastern Engineer
in tho Bracing Air of the North
west.
Jamkstown, Dakota, December 13.
About the most striking tiling it has
boon the lot of the writer to wit nets in
(his land of the Dakotas was a hail
storm. Cyclones we rarely have —East
ern papers to the conrary notwithstand
ing—but a genuine Dakota hail-storm is
something to talk adout. List summer
some Jamestown capitalists concluded
lo run a railroad from that cily south
ward iu search of new town sites to
boom. This search for pastures new
usually is the moving impetus to the
construction of branch roads here is
the Northwest. To survey this road a
bran new corps of engineers was
brought out from the East and set to
Wcrk. We had battled successfully
with the mosquitoes and tin other con
comitant pleasures of plain life for a
week or more and were beginning to
congratulate ourselves upon the stoicism
with which we roughed it when this
particular hail-storm, talking us—as
the thunder took the toad—off guard,
knocked all the conceit out of us.
Wo were just finishing supper one
evening, when, to some one's observa
tion that it was getting (lark mighty
fast, our chief looking up, dropping
knife and fork and yelled: "Thunder!
boys, it's going to rain. Hurry up! get
the things inside the tent." Get the
mischief! for pitter patter—whiz-bang!
and one of the ivorst hail-storms that
ever swept the plains was upon us,driv
ing us all—a round dozen in number—
into a little eight by ten tent. Three
minutes after the first drop fell it
would have cost a man his life to have
gone any distance from shelter, for the
ice was coming down iu blocks of six
inches in circumference and in perfect
sheets. Our covered wagon started off
on a trip across the country -proving
itself literally a prairie schooner—and
brought up in the river beyond, and, de
spit the efforts of a dozeu stalwart men,
our tent came nearly following after.
All around inside the men were either
on their knees holding down the canvas
or hanging on to til* ridge-pole with
might and main, while the hail pelted
the roof, sides and ends of our tent
with such force that no one could stand
against the canvass, and through the
hollows which the stones knocked in
our supposed tightly-stretched tent the
water poured in volumes. The mules
of our outfit tore loose from their pick
els and rushing wildly about sought
shelter along the high banks of the riv
er. One wise old ass called Balaam
backed up against the lee side of our
teut and assisted not a little in keeping
it from blowiug over. One particular
mule—the meanest brute that ever wore
long ears —too stubborn to run, stood
kicking throughout the storm, which
lasted about twenty minutes. We were
about a mile away from the nearest
point of shelter—a village of rough clap
board bouses, which had been run up
inaday or so with the first talk of
building a road. So,"after the storm,
for this village we started. Wet to the
skin we waded across the intervening
plain, raeny places over shoes in ice and
water, and to add to our misery it kept
getting colder and colder as we splash
ed through the water and ice. Arriv
ing at the only hotel iu the town we
found the usual Western hospitality.
To our demand for a fire by which to
dry our clothing the landlord replied
that we should have one just jjis soon
as ho could hunt up the neccessary
fuel. In the course of an hour the fire
was started anb around it we clustered,
turning a dozen pairs of shoeless feet up
tothewarmth, and by alternating "fore
and aft," drying the outside and wet
ting inside,we finally succeeded iu res
toring circulation.
A heavy lain now set in, and how it
can rain out here on the prairies! Our
landlord and his son stood in the hall
sweeping back the water as it Hooded in
under the door—a practical illustration
of King Canute and the flood and a
bout as successful. Bed time arrived
and a dozen stiff boys, shoeless, coatless
as well as less several other articles of
attire which need not be mentioned,
all of which were left belliud to dry by
the only fire the hotel offered, marched
out through the wet hall climbed a lad
der to the loft. Ilere we wrestled man
fully with the bugs tiil near morning,
when it began blowing sucli a terrific
gale that a dozen fellows came to a sit
ting posture to debate the question of
hunting the cellar. One of the regular
boarders awakened ly the diu fettled
this question by calling out You
infernal fools; there's not a cellar in
town ; lay down and sleep; it's better
to be on top than under any day." We
lay down.
In the morning our landlord brought
up our shoes, clothes, etc., in a bushel
basket and empt'ed them out on the
floor to be scrambled for. On going
out the worst scene of devastation it
has ever been the lot of the writer to
see met his eye. The day before large
Terms, SI,OO per Year, in Advance.
fields of grain, ripe for the sickle, could
be seen, stretching away in all diiec
tions. of which not a stalk remained
standing; gaiden growth of all kinds
utterly destroyed; hardly a pane of
glass was left in tlie village ; the fol
i ige of the trees was so cut and mang
led that 1 tie limbs looked bare as in
winter time. A belt eight miles in
width and twice as many in leugth
was entirely cleared of vegetation.
TRIPLET MAXIMS.
Three things to do—think, live, act.
Three things to govern—temper,
tongue and conduct.
Three things to cherish—virtue, good
ness and wisdom.
Three things to love—courage, gentle
ness and affection.
Three things to contend for —honor,
country and friends.
Three things to hate—cruelty, arro
gance and ingratitude.
Three things to teach—truth, industry
and contentment.
Three things to admire—intellect, dig
nity and gracefulness.
Three things to like—cordiality, good
ness and cheerfulness.
Three things to delight in—beauty,
frankness and freedom.
Three things to avoid —idleness, loquac
ity and flippant jesting.
Three things to wish for—health,
friends and a contented spirit.
Three things to cultivate—good books,
good friends and good humor.
SIXTY FEET UNDER THE SEA.
44 ] was once a diver —not a wrecker,
but a pearl diver—and hard business it
was," recently observed the captain of
a Spanish brig to a reporter of the Cal
ifornia limes. 'We worked off the
Mexican and Panama coasts, princi
pally on the pacific side. Sometimes
we worked alone, but generally on
shares, and sometimes for pay. We
went to the grounds in small sailing
vessels, the n we took the small boats
and covered as much ground as poss
ible. Each man had a basket, a weight
and a knife. For sharks? yes, but it is
a poor defence, for it is almost imnoss
ible to swing the arm with any force
under water. The best weapon is a'
short spear. When you reach the
ground you strip, put your feet on a big
sinker, take the basket that has a rope
for hoisting, drop over, and soon find
yourself at the bottom.
"Then your business is to knock off
as many oysters as you can and pile
them into the basket before you loose
your wind. It is a terrible straiu, but
I could stand it in those days for six
minutes, and I have known some men
who could stay down teii; but it is sure
death in the long run. If the ground
is well stocked you can get twenty or
more shells, but it is all. When the bas
ket is full it is hauled up, and after you
come up for your wind down you go a
gain, being hauled up with a small cord
for that purpose. It was on one of
these trips that I ran afoul of the an
imal that gave me a lasting figlit. You
will smile when I say it was only a star
fish, hut that it really was. I went
down sixty feet with a rush, and land
ing onj[the edge of a big hunch of coral,
swung off into a kind of basin. The
basket was ahead of me, and as I
swung off to reach the bottom some
thing seemed to spring up all around
me, and I was in the arms of some kind
of a monster that coiled about my body,
arms and legs. I tried to scream, for
getting that I was in the water, and
lost ray wind.
u lt was just as if the plant had
sprouted under me and threw its vines
and tendrils about uie. There were
thousands of them, coiling aud writh
ing, and 1 thought I had landed in
nest of sea snakes. I gaye the signal
as soon as I could, and made a break
upward, part ot the creature cling ing
to me, while the rest, I could see, was
dropping to pieces. They hauled me
into the boat when I reached the sur.
face, and pulled the main part of the
animal from me. It was oval, about
three feet across, and the five arms
seemed to divide into thousands of
others. 1 probably landed on top of
that one, which at this time was the
largest I had ever seen. I afterward
saw the body of one that was washed a
shore on the isthmus that must have
had a spread ot thirty-five feet. Their
power of grasping is considerable, but
touch them in a certain way and they
throw off their arms in a regular show
er, and are soon reduced to an oval
body."
Murderer Loom is' Dying Tes
timony.
Itum lies at the foundation of all my
sorrows. It found me a motherless
boy, with no one to influence me to
discard its use. I followed on,
fore I was aware of it it held me like a
slave. The more I used, the tighter
were the chains reyited about me unti
now I find myself about to be hanged
on account of what it has done for me.
I hereby warn everybody, both those
who sell it or in anywise uphold its use.
Let my fate be a warning to the young
and old, that the safest way is to touch
not, nor taste the cup that has robbed
me of home, friends and life.
N0.2-
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HUMOROUS.
HE HAD SOME FUN. —About 8 o'-
clock yesterday morning a man, smok
ing plug tobacco in an old clay pipe,
walked out of a Michigan avenue ho
tel with u rat in a trap. He looked
neither to the right nor to the left un
til lie had reached the middle of the
street Then he placed the trap on
the ground and whistled for his dog.
If ho had a dog the animal did not
respond, but the public did. In less
than two minutes 30 men were rush
ing to the spot.
"Hi! there! Don't let him out till
I get my dog," shouted one.
"Hold on! Wait for the dogs,"
yelled half a dozen voices at once.
"Keep cool and form a circle!"
commanded a policeman, as he took a
firmer grip of his baton.
The man with the trap spread a
large handkerchief over it and waited.
He was not a hit excited. On the
contrary, lie was as placid as a chip
sailing in the wash dish.
"Whar' did ye ketch him?" inquir
ed a newsboy.
The placid man did not deign to re
ply.
"What'll ye take fur him ?" asked
another, but his inquiry was treated
with the same silent contempt.
Then four or five men came run
ning up with dogs under their arms,
and ten or fifteen dogs on foot follow
ed behind. There was a fight between
a bull dog and a Newfoundland, and
there would have been a row between
their owners had not a second police
man appeared. Order was finally re
stored. The dogs were arranged in a
circle and held by their collars, and
the placid man slowly knocked the
ashes from his pipe, looked carefully
around, and then raised the trap and
shook the rat out. All the dogs made
a rush, but in ten seconds each and
every canine walked off on his ear
and seemed to be hurt in his feelings.
A boy stepped forward and held the
rat up to view.
"It's a crockery rat!" be yelled as
he whirled it around.
"Yes, it vhas a groghery radt, and
he cost me den cents!" calmly replied
the placid man as he walked off with
his trap.— Detroit Free Press.
HEROIC MR. SPILKINS WISHING TO
EARN A PENNY BY SAVING IT HE SHOV
ELS TITE SNOW FROM HIS PAVE. —"No,"
said Spilkins to the small boy who
rang his door bell askingif he wanted
his sidewalk shoveled off, and who off
ered to do the job for a quarter. Spilj
kins had just been reading a book in
which a lot of pernicious aphorisms a
bout the desirability of economy were
set down, such as "A penny saved is
a penny earned," "A groat a day is a
pound a year," etc.; therefore he said
to himself, "I will save the quarter
that the job of cleaning my sidewalk
would cost, and do the work myself.
Besides the exercise will be good for
me." He told Mrs. S. of his resolu
tion, and she, like all true wives in
these eases, told him that he was a
fool to think of such a thing, and that
to do the work himself would be ten
times what it is worth. But Spilkins
has a mind of his own, and he put on
his rubber boots and mummified him
self by means of a long ulster, a com
forter and a fur cap, and went out to
his self-selected labors. As he emerg
ed from his door he struck a piece of
ice on the top step and went into the
street flying and got a lot of snow up
his sleaves aud trousers legs and
down the back of his neck ; however,
a little profanity relieved his mind in
this respect and he fell to work.
The job was harder than he antici
pated, but be stuck to it, and at last
went into the bouse again, bathed in
perspiration and triumph. But on sit
ing down to smoke, as was his custom
after anything particular, he found
that in his fall down the steps he had
ground to snuff three twenty-five-cent
cigars which he had in his pocket and
the next morning woke up with an in
fluenza which has given him the aspect
of the weeping philosopher and the
temper of a bear ever since. He there
fore says that economy is a frand and
has thrown his book of maxims into
the fire.
A boy with a patch on his knee cant
be hired to go on an errand to the next
house, but he will follow a band wagon
all over town and never realize that he
isn't dressed in broadcloth.
According to the New York Express,
it is the boy OD top of the molasses
hogshead who sings: ,4 Oh for a thous
and tongues."